“So there it is.” Laurel looked to each of her friends and housemates in turn as she finished relating the basics of the data General Pratt had sent her. She hadn’t wanted to tell them over breakfast, but it didn’t seem right to keep it from them any longer than necessary. Regardless, she could tell by most of their faces that she’d added more than a little stress to their day.

“No more slick attempts at cover-ups, no more fronts. Without the Academy, Tome’s tactics have switched to outright kidnapping. Olivia White was even taken from her home.” Laurel continued, recounting what she’d already said as if to convince herself of the fact.

“Are we sure it’s Tome?” Alexis asked. Her voice came out in a croak thanks to a late night out with Ian compounded with this new element.

“Maybe I’m being hopeful.” Laurel said, “In all honestly, I’m praying that this isn’t some new danger to young psionics, but the evidence and motive is there. All of the kids on that list are around the same level of strength or versatility in their powers or have a rare power, just like the kids they’ve gone after before. And the document has been confirmed as coming from Tome by the ROCIC.”

“So, what are we going to do?” Cyn was the only one who was still eating. It was literally impossible to cause her to lose her appetite.

“We can’t ignore it.” Warrick said.

“Even if they aren’t Tome, we can’t ignore this list if it really is a kidnapper’s itinerary.” Juniper joined in shyly.

“I think we all understand that.” Laurel said. “The question I’m working on is that ‘what will we do about it?’.”

“We can’t take them in.” Melissa said dryly, staring dully at her pancakes. “This place isn’t big enough for thirteen more people; it’s a bed and breakfast, not a mansion.”

Cyn gave her a sidelong glance, but she was right, however nastily she’d put it. “And we can’t trust any of the new schools, can we?”

“Not at all.” Alexis said sadly. “We looked into it and of the two dozen schools out there now, all of them are owned, sponsored or controlled by a grand total of five corporations. None of whom were exactly known for their philanthropy before there were young psionic minds to influence. And any one of them could still be a front for Tome.”

“What about that place where you got all the stuff you use to train us?” Warrick asked.

“The Brunswick School?” Ian supplied.

“Didn’t you say that palace was run by British Special Services?” Warrick asked.

“MI-6 is Military Intelligence.” Ian corrected, “But pretty much. At least the man in charge is a company man.”

“Hugo Lansdale is former military intelligence.” Laurel corrected his correction. “In fact, I did some checking. MI-6 publicly only admits that Lansdale was employed as a clerical worker, when in fact he was a psionic operative codenamed Absolute Silence. He was forced out after allegedly failing to complete a mission involving a young mentalist they believed the French were conditioning to be an agent of their intelligence agency, the DRM.”

“’Allegedly’?” Cyn said around a mouthful of hash browns. “You couldn’t get anything more specific?”

“That’s all MI-6 got, apparently.” Laurel admitted. “The boy disappeared, the training facility was destroyed, but no one at the agency could confirm him dead and Lansdale’s powers fouled every lie detector they tried on him. The crown’s been grudgingly allowing him to operate his school without normal oversight for the past decade out of fear that he still has ties to this boy, whoever he was. And believe me; they’re so afraid of him that every database I can access has been scrubbed of any mention of his actual name or abilities.”

“So he could be a good guy or a bad guy.” Cyn concluded, attacking her heretofore unmolested sausages. “I mean we don’t know what it was he did to the kid. He could have eaten his brains to gain his powers or something.”

Juniper gave her oatmeal a horrified look as it changed to something wholly unappetizing in her mind’s eye thanks to Cyn’s colorful example and pushed the bowl away. “That’s just horrible. He can’t be like that, can he Ms. Brant?”

Laurel was in the process of giving Cyn an odd look and took a few seconds to respond by shaking her head. “Nothing that graphic, I imagine. Thank you for the mental image nonetheless, Cyn.”

“No problem.” Cyn replied. “Are you going to eat that grey matter, Jun?” She asked, pointing to the girl’s abandoned oatmeal. When Juniper indicated she didn’t, she stretched out an arm and snatched the bowl up.

“But you’re right, Cyn.” Laurel continued, “He may be dangerous. For all we know, Tome has gone global in the decades since they broke from the government. But the Brunswick School is our best solution if I can trust General Pratt’s theories about it.”

“That they’re the one’s smuggling kids out of the country.” Said Melissa. “But has it occurred to you that maybe they’re just competing with Tome? Pretty much everyone else on the planet wants to alternately kill or experiment on us; I don’t see how these people would be any different.”

“Everyone?” Cyn asked slyly. “So what does Terry want to do; kill you or experiment on you? And remember, playing doctor doesn’t count as experimenting.”

“I think it would.” Juniper said, completely missing the innuendo.

“Mind your own business.” Melissa snapped at both of them, sending Cyn into peels of laughter.

“Girls.” Alexis said firmly, causing everyone but Cyn to quiet down. She ignored her; trying to tell Cyn what to do was like telling a glacier to hurry up. “We’re getting away from the point. If you can’t get better information on him, Laurel, then no one can. That’s a big gamble we’d be taking with these kids.”

“Yeah,” Ian added. “One I don’t think any of us is willing to take. This isn’t like contacting the kids’ parents, this is literally taking a chance at handing them over to the enemy.”

Laurel took a sip of orange juice “I didn’t say I couldn’t get any more information on Lansdale and the school, only that I couldn’t access it digitally. The Brunswick School’s intra-net is entirely separate from the internet and even the normal internet access is strictly controlled. I’d be willing to bet that he’s got a technopath on staff just for this purpose.”

“How are you going to get information without the internet?” Warrick wondered.

Ian shook his head in mild disgust. “Okay, kids, next training assignment is to read a couple Sherlock Holmes adventures and watch some detective movies.” He sniffed at Warrick’s stunned reaction to this. “Come on. Do you not understand basic investigation skills; hunting for clues, interviewing witnesses?”

“My dad taught me a few things.” Juniper spoke up. “But… how is Ms. Brant going to do that from here, Mr. Smythe?”

Ian blinked. It hadn’t occurred to him in his righteous indignation over the kids not respecting the classics. “Well, she’d have to…” He looked over to Laurel. Obviously, she’d already come to the same conclusion, possibly within minutes of reviewing Pratt’s disk. “You’re not going to England, are you?”

“It’s the only way.” Said Laurel, starting in on her own sausage. “I’ve convinced General Pratt to arrange a tour for us using his own and my father’s World Affairs Council connections. I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”

“What?” Alexis was shocked. “You already arranged this without telling us? You’re going to visit a potential enemy on foreign soil alone? I can’t let you do that, L.”

“I’m just as dangerous as any of you in proper context.” Laurel returned. She couldn’t help but smile at the concern she engendered. “And if you’re really concerned about it, well, I anticipated someone would want to come along to keep me company, so I had Daddy get me a second ticket.”

“Why would you need your father to book airline tickets?” Ian asked.

“Because we’re not going to be taking a plane.” Laurel said, “I want to get this done as quickly as possible, so we’ll be taking a sub-orbital shot.”

Alexis blanched. Cyn finally found something to distract her completely from her meal. “Awesome.” She said with a seriousness and wonder that bordered on a religious declaration.

Later that day, the door to Laurel’s workshop opened as she oversaw a file transfer to her notebook computer. “Hey.” She said cheerfully. Glancing back, she saw that it was Ian. “I would have thought you’d be helping Alexis pack.”

“She kicked me out for being unhelpful.” Ian admitted. “Is it my fault I think everything she has looks good on her?”

“Pretty much, yes.”

She noticed him poking at a half finished piece of equipment on one of the work tables. “What’s this?” he asked.

Laurel left the computer to come over and look. “Oh, that’s something I’m helping Warrick work on. After Tina’s electromagnet immobilized him, he figured the bad guys may figure out the same thing. So this is a demagnetizer. Or it will be once he figures out how to get it to work.”

“He figures it out?” Ian asked, “But I know for a fact you know how. We used industrial demagnetizers in Seattle.”

“But he doesn’t.” Laurel supplied, “And I’d rather he figure that out by himself. He’s a pretty bright kid when he applies himself. Have you seen his chemistry grades?”

“Not hard to ace chemistry when you can actually check you watch battery to see how many electrons nickel has.” Ian quipped.

They both had a little laugh, which faded to uneasy silence. Laurel rushed to fill it. “So is Alexis still nervous about the sub-orbital shot?”

“Incredibly. I’ve got to ask: Is there any particular reason you’ve suddenly decided it’s necessary to shave eight hours off your flight time when it just happened to involve a mode of transportation she hates more than anything.”

“I told her; g-force dampers are generations ahead of the ones they had went we took our senior trip.”

“Laurel…” Ian used the tone she herself used when people weren’t being completely straight with her.

“Alright. I was trying to convince her to stay here.” Laurel admitted. “For one the kids need her here training them. Especially Melissa. I swear, she’s become worse at using her healing under pressure, not better; and she never uses her emotion heightening.”

“The training’s in good hands.” Ian assured her, “Mine.”

“Speaking of which…” Laurel went over and lifted a notebook computer out of its charging cradle. “I’ve programmed in the training sessions for the three days we’ll be gone. Remember, Cyn needs practice mimicking inanimate objects and Warrick needs focus control. Don’t worry about Kareem aside from the usual medical care; he knows what the manifestation routine I planned for him by heart.”

“I know, I work on the lesson plans with Alexis.” Ian accepted the notebook. “And don’t think you’ve made me forget my question; why are you trying to convince Alexis to stay home?”

Laurel sighed and sat down in one of her computer chairs. “Because this is what I’m good at and staying here, watching the home front and leading the Descendants is what she’s good at. If we can’t let one another fulfill our roles, we’re going to have problems.”

She scrubbed her hand through her hair. “It isn’t even that I don’t want her on the trip. I’d love nothing more than to tool around Europe with you two, and I know she’s choosing to go because we’re best friends. I just think it’s more important to have her here.” Giving up, she looked at the ceiling. “This would be so much easier if I was all cold and logical like the hyper-cogs in the movies. At least I wouldn’t feel bad for thinking this way.”

Ian grabbed another chair and pulled it over to her. “I for one am happy you aren’t. You’d be pretty annoying if you were.” They both laughed at this. “But don’t worry so much; I’m on the case here and I’ll handle leading the kids if anything comes up. I’d say ‘it’s only three days, what could happen?’, but we both know that would summon a giant shrimp or something to attack the city, so I’ll shut up.”

Laurel laughed at the mental image of an immense shrimp rampaging through the city. “Thanks, Ian, I needed that.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” He smiled. “Listen, you’ve said more than once that Alexis is better at thinking on the fly than you because you have to analyze everything, right?” He let her nod before he continued. “I think this qualifies as on the fly. Day before yesterday, we were dealing with Mad-Mad warping reality. Now we’re suddenly back to thinking in terms of Tome? Not to mention you’re going to only have three days at the Brunswick School. Maybe it’ll be to your benefit to have Alexis along.”

“That’s true.” Laurel conceded. “But I’m still taking the sub-orbital shot. I find them fascinating.”

The cab had dropped her off down the road from the main entrance, affording her time to duck into the woods and shed her overcoat as well as don her mask. By the time she was properly attired and her coat securely packed in her suitcase, noon had slipped past her.

Those circumstances suited her fine. The dirt road was a comfortable walk and took a switchback route that offered a view of the French coast, gorgeous in the noonday sun. Soon enough, the path turned away from the coast and onto wooded hills.

Between two of those stood an ancient manor house that bore the patchwork effect of an owner desperate to renovate while at the same time suffering constant natural disasters. It and the grounds that belonged to it were surrounded by a concrete and steel wall. Incongruously, a set of old fashioned, wrought iron gates were set into the gap in the front, the words Arceneaux Academy pour les Arts Spéciaux were formed from the metal at the very tops of the bars.

There was also a camera, which she only noticed when she was close enough to have already been spotted. No worries, she wasn’t there to cause trouble.

“Do you have an appointment, Mademoiselle?” A deep, male voice asked in French from a speaker box set into the wall. It was a concerned, suspicious voice. The kind that called the police or reached for a firearm in a hurry if things didn’t go exactly the right way.

“Monsieur Arceneanux is expecting me.” She replied in her own, rather poor French. Of all the languages she’d learned, she’d neglected to learn the one she used most often aside from English until very late in life.

“For security, Madame, “the voice replied, “Please remove your face covering and submit to biometric recognition.”

“Non.” She said with sharp irritability.

There was a pause, and then the gates swung open before her. “Welcome to the Arceneaux Academy, Mademoiselle Vorpal.” The man on the intercom said cheerfully.

-- • --

The front of the manor had undergone the most extensive reworking. The stone façade that set off twin oaken doors had been replaced with an atrium enclosed with what appeared to be, but most assuredly wasn’t glass. That had been done since Vorpal had last visited.

Stephan Archeneaux was already there to open the door for her. “I didn’t know when to expect you.” He spoke in English for her benefit. “Otherwise, I would have sent Arnold to pick you up.”

“A free vacation in the south of France is doing more than enough, thank you.” She set down her bags and the two shared a quick hug. “Besides, all things considered, I figure Arnold has his hands full already with you converting the manor into a school. Your parents hired him to take care of one young psionic, not half a dozen.”

“It’s closer to a full dozen now.” Stephan said, matter-of-factly. “We had two new arrivals this week, a brother and sister. We’re letting them stay in their rooms until they’re comfortable.” He ran an analytical gaze over her. “I didn’t expect you to be in uniform. That’s new, isn’t it?”

“Courtesy of Vincent Liedecker.” Vorpal held out her arms and turned so he could see it all. “The metal is a new alloy they call ‘orihalcon’; probably because they failed Classics class. It’s supposedly indestructible once nano-assembled.”

“Then how…”

“Because it isn’t.” Vorpal cut him off smugly. “You of all people know, Stephan: Nothing’s indestructible when I’m determined.” That left an unsteady lull in the conversation. “In any event, don’t worry; I won’t be wearing it around here this week. I packed real person clothes; shorts, skirts, my bathing suit, sleeping clothes – the essentials.”

“I promised you that I wouldn’t give you trouble over the mask,” Stephan started, “but won’t it be uncomfortable? Especially if you’re swimming?”

“I bought a cowl.” Vorpal made a show of casually looking about the receiving hall. “It’s lightweight and still covers my hair and eyes.”

“Even on vacation?” Stephan asked.

“I have to take it off when I go to my apartment or shopping, or anywhere in my normal identity.” Vorpal explained. “But on vacation is where a person is allowed to be themselves. I’ve told you, Stephan; the girl under this mask isn’t me. She never was.”

“I can accept that for now.” Stephan agreed, trying to salvage the occasion. “I’m just happy to have you here again. It’s been years since we’ve met in person. I frankly don’t know where to start; showing you the renovations we’ve made to the place, introducing you to the students, asking—“He was cut off by a cacophony of mixed laughter and moans from a room just off the receiving hall.

“It sounds like the students have spoken.” Vorpal said with a smirk. Stephan only smiled and motioned for her to follow him to the door of the adjoining room.

The last time Vorpal had been to the Archeneaux family manor, the room had been a formal parlor with all the trappings gathering dust after its young master’s long absence. Formality had been replaced by joviality. One wall was populated by antique arcade games, the one opposite it by a large television monitor. The monitor was currently showing split screen images of two motorcycles racing through what Vorpal recognized to be Hong Kong.

Three sofas had been pulled into a rough semicircle in front of the television. The central most of the trio held two boys while the furthest one from the door was taken up entirely by a bulky figure with knobby, grey skin and a body that looked like an ox had been persuaded to stand on its hind legs then sit cross-legged on a sofa.

The commotion had obviously come as a reaction to one of the two cycles had taken a detour through along the sidewalk and suffered an ignoble end against the side of a fruit stall.

With clear annoyance at the heckling of his classmates, the oversized boy flipped the game controller underhand at the more stout of the two. He muttered something petulant that Vorpal couldn’t understand in a low voice as he did. The throw was off target enough that the intended recipient was forced to extend his arm out to half again its normal length to catch it.

So engrossed in the game were the three that they didn’t notice the two adults entering.

“Has your French improved?” Stephan asked Vorpal quietly.

“Not by much, I’m been busy getting settled in Mayfield.”

“Then this will be interesting; their English skills are just as poor for the most part. I guess you’ll have to learn from each other. Still, if we’re going to call ourselves a school, we really should offer lessons.”

“Not to me.” Vorpal shot back. “I’m your friend, not your student. You’re the linguist; translate for me.”

“I like my way better.” Stephan mused. Before Vorpal could retort, he cleared his throat loudly enough to get the attention of the three boys. “Gentlemen,” he addressed them in French. “This is a dear friend of mine from the states. You’ll know her as Vorpal. She will be staying with us for the week and I expect the best behavior. Additionally, to practice your languages, you will address her in either English or Mandarin for the week.”

“I recognized ‘Mandarin’ in that.” Vorpal groused. “I don’t know—“

Stephan didn’t deviate a bit from his script. “Ms. Vorpal, these are Charles Humbert,” He indicated the young man with the stretching ability, “Jules Krantz,“ The second boy was small and sharp featured, not unlike some kind of weasel, “and this is one of our newer students, Zeke… he doesn’t have a last name.” the giant simply shrugged at this, giving no indication that he knew or cared what Voice was saying about him.

“They don’t have other names?” Vorpal asked, almost automatically.

“What? Like at America’s Academy or British Gifted Education?” Stephan asked. “You saw how that turned out. No, I’m not trying to train prelates or militants here, Vorpal, only give these kids a safe place to stay and learn to use their powers safely. That’s all.” He frowned. “That’s enough, really.” He paused to collect himself, straightening up to his full height before addressing the boys in English. “That will be all for now, boys, you can go back to your game now. Zeke, I’m glad to see you’re spending time with your fellows.”

Zeke gave a half nod and heaved his massive shoulders. Stephan returned with a nod of his own and led Vorpal out of the room. Along the way, he regained some of his cheer. “Come on, I’ll show you your room. I’ve had the new maid prepare the old guest chambers on the third floor for you. There’s a wonderful view.”

Vorpal glanced back at the door to the parlor as they began to ascend the stairs. “Is that the boy you were detoxing last time we talked about the school?”

“We had to use a high powered rifle to administer the treatments, but he’s clean now. Not exactly happy about it, but he’s better off not going berserk on stimulants.”

“If you ask me, a few uppers might do the sullen boy some good.” Vorpal said dryly. “How did he manage to take any kind of drug if you needed to shoot him to give him an injection?”

“Zeke’s skin is nigh invulnerable, but he’s just as susceptible to toxins as anyone—more so in fact. He’d take inhalants or pills and they’d drive him crazy. If we hadn’t gotten to him, the army was going to put him in an isolation cell for the rest of his life.”

“So what’s this about not letting them have nicknames?” Vorpal changed the subject swiftly.

“I haven’t forbidden it, only discouraged it.” Stephan said. “Vorpal, this isn’t America. The EU hasn’t engaged in a twenty year propaganda campaign to make psionics celebrities and ‘productive citizens’ in the peoples’ eyes. When people see a psionic here, they don’t see John Harding or Sonja Remington. They see a potential Arjun Ravi in the making.”

They reached the second floor landing and Stephan held the door to the stairs leading to the third floor open for Vorpal.

“Raising the next generation to make people think of them as those celebrities and productive citizens without the propaganda would help.” Vorpal said, accepting his courtesy.

“Maybe so, maybe not.” Stephan charitably ignored the fact that an international assassin was advocating teaching heroics. Vorpal lived and died by the mantra ‘do as I say, not as I do’. “But this isn’t the place. These kids need a home and a family. Most of them haven’t had either one in a long time. Ever since International Bio-Security introduced those damned tests, there’ve been more and more psionic orphans. People don’t seem to care that the things can’t identify eighty percent of power inducing genes as long as they have an excuse.”

Vorpal started to ask about those tests. They weren’t well known outside of western Europe, but she felt they were a cause for concern. The question would have to wait, as a cascade of mist steeped out of the ceiling, solidifying into a blonde, teenaged girl directly in front of Stephan.

“Mr. Archinaw!” she began in broken French and quickly switched to English in her panic. “She’s doing it again! And the wall’s cracking!”

Stephan’s jaw set. “Thank you for warning me, Wendy. Stay here and Ms. Vorpal and I will handle it.” Without a word to Vorpal, he sprinted up the stairs.

“We will be landing shortly at London Heathrow International Aerospaceport.” A digitized female voice said. “Please return to your seats and observe the landing instructions now being displayed on the panel in front of you. Sight Impaired passengers can now switch to channel three for audio instructions. Being properly secured is important as we transition from our glide path to vertical landing protocols. During this transition, some inertial shifting is normal.”

Alexis didn’t need to be told any of this. Her seatbelt had been buckled the entire way, though considering the grip she had on the seat, it may have been redundant.

“This isn’t any different than flying in a plane.” Laurel rationalized, looking up from her computer.

“’Inertial shifting’ is not normal on an airplane.” Alexis said through clenched teeth.

“Sure, not now, thanks to dampers; but back before we were born, when a plane encountered turbulence, everyone on the plane felt it.”

“Then flying back then was a nightmare too.” Alexis snapped.

“You’ve never gotten caught in a crosswind when you… you know…” Laurel led the question, conscious of the other dozen or so passengers strewn about the cabinet.

“I’m self correcting.” Alexis said. “So I never feel it then.”

“Interesting.” Laurel noted. “I never knew that.”

“It isn’t particularly—oh god!” She clenched her eyes closed as the plane suddenly slowed substantially, straining everyone against their seatbelts. Just as swiftly, it accelerated again, pressing everyone into the back of their seats.

Alexis glared over at her best friend as normality returned. “I bet they started serving alcohol on planes because of the turbulence. Why don’t they do that here?!”

“Because it’s only a half and hour. You wouldn’t have time to get properly drunk before you landed.”

“Then I should have gotten drunk before we got on this thing.” Alexis moaned. “People aren’t supposed to leave the atmosphere.”

“People will be living outside the atmosphere soon enough.” Laurel said, trying to get Alexis’s mind off the flight. “its eleven years behind schedule, but the Indus River should be going live sometime next year.”

Alexis quirked a half grin. “They’re more than a decade behind building the thing and people are still willing to live there?”

“You know, I considered taking the test to be part of the initial crew before everything happened.”

“’Everything’ got in the way of a lot of things. Are you sorry I got you involved?” Alexis asked.

“Are you kidding?” Laurel almost laughed. “The Indus River Project may be a scientific milestone, but it’s nowhere near as important as what we’ve been doing! Not just for us and the kids, but for the city and really, the world. Can you imagine what…” she paused, trying to find a way to phrase what she was saying covertly on the plane, “what this project would be like without our group working on it? That Arthurian Legend case alone would have gotten way out of hand.”

“I hear you.” Alexis nodded. “I would still be teaching… pretty much in the belly of the beast. This feels like what I’m supposed to do.” She let that hang in the air before continuing. “Just like this trip. L, I know you didn’t want me to come, but I think I should; not just tactically, but because… think of it as redemption, okay?”

“Redemption? Er… I mean, why would you think I didn’t want you along?”

“Laurel, we’ve been friends forever and I know that you’re way too smart to accidentally book a mode of transportation that terrifies me while going on a trip I might want to tag along on. Now I don’t know why, and I know you wouldn’t do it without reason…”

Laurel sank in her chair for reasons in no way related to inertia. “Why did you want to come so badly? There’s nothing you’ve done that I know of that you need redemption for.”

“Not really redemption, but… I don’t know, making me feel better? I worked for those guys. I was part of the bait in the trap. If I can help make it so these kids don’t get caught in that trap, I’m going to do anything I can, okay?”

Nodding, Laurel looked out the window at the famous London fog spread out far below. “I can definitely understand that, Alex. And listen, when we go home? We’ll take a regular plane.”

-- • --

Half an hour later, a private helicopter owned by Hugo Lansdale made its way over Cornwall and to the Isles of Sicily.

“Coming up on our right.” The amiable pilot, who had introduced himself to Laurel and Alexis as Greg said, pointing to an island. “Sanctum Island.”

“Formerly St. Helen’s.” Laurel noted. “Sort of odd for Dr. Lansdale to build his school on an island known as a place where sailors were left to die.” She noted Alexis’s raised eyebrow and added, “I read a travel guide to the UK once.”

“Dr. Lansdale chose the place because it’s remote and private.” Greg sounded as if he’d prepared the speech beforehand. “In order to both afford the students privacy and to protect the surrounding countryside from any uncontrolled powers.”

The island was dominated by a multi-tiered concrete structure with high walls encircling the northern face, which was a well manicured lawn with a visible soccer field. A small grove grew on the roof of one of the tiers on the west end of the complex.

“Oh my…” Alexis said. She had worked at the Academy, which was a converted college campus and looked very much the same way any other college campus looked. The Brunswick School was something else entirely. At once, it was both uniform and scenic. It was also massive, with the building itself being larger than half the entire Academy campus. “How many students did you say Dr. Lansdale has here?”

“One hundred and eighty-eight as of last month. To tell the truth, we’re almost at capacity.”

The two women exchanged glances. That wasn’t what they wanted to hear.

Minutes later, the helicopter set down on the highest roof of the complex, perfectly on the ‘H’ marking the helipad. A welcoming party of sorts was there awaiting them; three men and what appeared to be an eight foot mound of pink cotton candy. One of the men was wearing a metal halo brace around his head.

“Welcome to the Brunswick Academy.” The oldest of the receiving party said, stepping forward with an extended hand and a guarded expression. “I am Hugo Lansdale, Headmaster.”

Laurel shook his hand. “I’m Celeste Rankin.” She said, recalling the cover identities General Pratt had furnished for them. “And this is my assistant and long time friend, Victoria Lawson.” Alexis stepped forward and also shook his offered hand.

Lansdale nodded. “Good to meet you.” He said, though the sentiment didn’t show on his face. “Allow me to introduce my core staff;” He gestured to the younger of the other two men. “This is Gavin Meadowbrooke, the Staff Coordinator.” Gavin nodded smartly. Next, he indicated the giant pink thing. “Sally Elizabeth Heinz, also known as Dreaming Bliss, known to the students as Ms. Plush. She’s our Dean of Students.”

The pink lump extruded what could only be called a flipper and waggled it at the pair. An indentation that was most certainly a mouth moved and a whispered voice said “Hello.” In a cheerful manner. The air was suddenly scented with honeysuckle.

Ignoring what for him was a routine occurrence, Lansdale continued. “And this is Professor Harman Ross, school physician and powers trainer.” He was indicating the man in the halo. “All three are aware of your purpose here, ladies and are also aware of my feelings about it.”

“I’m sure the General Pratt has already vouched for us.” Alexis said quickly. “And has told you of the importance of our visit to the World Affairs Council.”

That didn’t seem to win her a friend in Hugo Lansdale. “While I respect my former opposite number, Lewis Armstrong Pratt is not counted among my friends, or even people I explicitly trust. As for the WAC; I put their needs and wants behind the United Kingdom’s and you can ask Parliament how I respond to demands.”

“We have no intention to demand anything of you.” Laurel jumped in diplomatically. “We’re simply here to inspect the school and based on that inspection, issue a request. One which you can entertain, negotiate or reject as you see fit.”

A moment of icy contemplation crossed Lansdale’s face and passed slowly as he nodded. “Very well. If you remain understanding that this visit is on my terms; i.e. you will make no attempts to interact with the students without the supervision of my senior staff.”

“Of course.” Laurel said, grudgingly. She had hoped to privately interview some of the students to get a better feel of how things were run and discover any suspicious.

“Good to know that we have an understanding.” Lansdale said. “Ms. Heinz will give you the tour and show you to your rooms.” He inclined his head to the protomorph, “Dreaming, if you would please?”

Ms. Heinz bobbed her head, giving an impression of a cresting wave of antacid. “Of course, doctor.” Two protrusions swept out before her from her sea of pink fuzz and like a seal lions flippers, propelled her forward. “Come with me please.”

Alexis noted in Lansdale’s eyes that there was no real choice in the matter.

The third floor of the former Archeneaux manor practically vibrated with power as Vorpal and Stephan gained the top of the stairs. The source was obvious; deep purple light spilled out from beneath the door at the far end of the hall. Where it touched the floor, the boards bowed and groaned. The door and its frame looked to have been replaced many times before with stronger and stronger variations. Nonetheless, they were rattling and straining the wall.

“I thought the latest reinforcement would hold.” Stephan said morosely.

“I think you were wrong.” Vorpal said, watching the door warping in its frame. “I told you to use the strongest materials possible last time I was here. Little Miss Attitude is more than just a telekinetic; when she unfocuses it like that, she’s on par with the strongest energy users I’ve seen.”

Stephan shook his head. “I hoped that these moods would stop. She’s been here over three years and nothing I do seems to help.” He gave Vorpal a sidelong look. “The only time she’s ever stopped was when you were around.”

Vorpal grunted beneath her mask and looked back to the straining door. “Because I’m not afraid of her—or for her. Not that it will do much good right now. Can you make her stop?” She caught her own faux pas before Stephan could respond. “For a short time, I mean. I only need a minute.”

Heaving a reluctant sigh, Stephan nodded. “I can. I hate doing this to her though.”

“Would you like to let her finish then? How many times have you remodeled because of her?” Vorpal said back, more sharply than she meant to. She gave him an apologetic look. “Look, I know you hate this. And I hate making you do it but this is real life.”

“That’s the kind of real life I try to keep away from them.”

“That’s the kind of real life they bring with them.” Vorpal said. “Her parents tried to kill her. Did you think she’d just forget that and adjust?”

Stephan didn’t respond to that. He simply squared his shoulders and stepped forward into the hall, just shy of the flickering purple light. When his mouth opened, his wasn’t his voice that made a sound. It was his Voice.

“ANNETTE MIRABELLE ST. JOHN.” The Voice wasn’t loud. As with every time she’d seen him use it, Vorpal was hardly sure it made a sound at all, only a sort of wave that passed through the skull and rearranged the brain. “STOP USING YOUR POWER FOR THE NEXT TEN MINUTES.”

The light died instantly, as if a switch had been switched. The door gave one last groan as it returned to its original shape.

Stephan’s shoulders drooped dejectedly even as Vorpal put a hand on one. “I’ll take care of things from here.” She said to him, and then lightly nudged an elbow into his ribs. “Don’t worry. I promise I won’t be too harsh with her.”

Annette St. John grimaced at the door. She was used to the routine by now; she would use her powers and Archeneaux would either let her destroy whatever room she was set up in, or would use his mind control to stop her and give her a long speech about how he was worried about her and how he only did what he’d done to protect the other students.

“Get it over with, Archeneaux.” She said acidly to the door when he didn’t come through it as expected. Instead of a tide of soft words and empty promises, however, Annette’s ears were assaulted by the screaming of metal. Without warning, a circular section of the door was struck by a hammer blow and launched onto the room. Annette recognized the mask and was appropriately taken aback.

“What do you get out of this?” Vorpal asked as she came through the hole she had made. “Do you just like breaking things? Do you have something against the man that took your ungrateful ass in when everyone else threw you away?”

Instinctively, Annette raised her hands in a threatening gesture. But Voice’s commands still held sway; she was entirely unable to bring her considerable power to bear.

Vorpal stalked toward her, glaring through the eye slits of her mask. The cold gaze scanned the girl’s outfit. Annette had a liking for purple, but didn’t get along well enough with anyone to participate in school shopping trips. As such, her clothes, all ordered online, were all disparate shades of the color instead of uniform. Her turtle neck was dark enough to be mistaken for black, while her tights were royal purple and her skirt was nearly pink. Her lipstick and nails similarly didn’t match.

“Voice says you’ve been calling yourself Ineffable.” Said the older woman, sitting down on the bed across from the dumbstruck girl. “And dressed like this? Are you trying to be some kind of junior miss supervillainess or are you just failing at being goth?”

Annette shrunk back against the headboard. “He called you to deal with me again?”

“I didn’t come here for you.” Vorpal replied. “Neither this time, nor before. Just like last time, I came to spend some time with my friend and you interrupted it with one of your little tantrums.” Her voice grew softer. “Last time I was in a bad mood. I didn’t care. Now, maybe I will. Why are you doing this?”

Annette drew her knees up to her chest and shrugged.

“You don’t know.” Vorpal nodded. “More like you don’t care. After all he’s done for you—“

“All he’s done for me?!’ Annette snapped back in spite of herself. “Shutting off my powers as he sees fit, trying to force me to waste my time with all these orphans and junkies, keeping us here; separate from normal people because either he’s scared of them or they’re scared of us? He’s not doing anyone here any favors, so why should I care what I do to Archeneaux?” She rested her forehead against her knees. “I just don’t want to be here anymore.”

Vorpal pinned her with a gaze. “Don’t give me that.” Vorpal said sternly. “I know everything that’s happened to you. Your parents taking that stupid test, what your father tried to do to you – it’s terrible, but Voice didn’t do that to you. If it wasn’t for him, you’d be a lab monkey for the French army by now, do you know that?”

“Maybe that’d be better than being here.” Annette pouted.

“You’re a really stupid girl.” Vorpal snapped. “Where else are you going to go but here? America? I’ve seen those syrupy magazine articles over here about how in America, everyone loves psionics and welcomes them with open arms.” She leaned close to the girl. “It’s a lie. They love you for what you can do for them, yes. You’re a hero if you work for the government, or do its job as a prelate. But that’s as far as it goes. If you’re not willing to be civil to someone who cares for you like his own child, how are you going to play that role?”

Annette answered with only petulant silence.

“I can understand some of it. I can.” Vorpal said. “I ended up in an orphanage. Not one for psionics though. I didn’t talk much after I lost my parents and they put me in this place for kids with mental problems because of it. Not the same as a place that takes in psionic runaways and former users, but I can relate. I tried using my powers to get out of it too. Of course, the caretakers just drugged me out of my mind when I did.”

“How is that different from using the Voice?” Annette asked.

“Do you have any idea how much it hurts him to do that?” Vorpal asked darkly. “He thinks of every one of you as his students and his children, Annette.”

“Ineffable.” Annette corrected.

“I’m fully in favor of you naming yourself.” Vorpal said, “But that name is terrible. A year from now, five years on the outside, you’ll look back on that and wonder what you were thinking, naming yourself something that—in all honesty—sounds like something a moody teenager with no idea what that word means would come up with. The only thing worse would have been if you had added ‘blood’ or ‘death’ to it.”

Annette glared out over her knees. “Then what would you call me, Vorpal?” She asked snarkily.

“You may think that’s a bad name, but I earned it. It has meaning.” Vorpal said darkly. “But your name is something someone else can’t give to you. That’s for you to decide when you’re smart enough to understand it.” She stretched dramatically. “But that’s neither here nor there. Voice won’t make you stay here if you honestly don’t want to be here. I can talk to him if you want.”

“But you’re right.” Annette said in a small voice. “There’s nowhere else for me to go.”

“You think on that.” Vorpal said, standing. “I’m going back downstairs to try and enjoy my vacation.” Without another word, she left through the hole she’d made in the reinforced titanium door.

-- • --

“Completely useless.” Alexis scowled, looking out the window of the room the friends shared room. The nighttime ocean rolled gently below. They had been guests of the Brunswick School for three days with only reams of paperwork regarding the school’s compliance with UK education and safety standards and several overly fancy meals to speak for it. “He’s done everything in his power to keep us from seeing anything about the school that isn’t on paper—most of which I already have.”

“And he’s been achingly polite in the process.” Laurel noted sourly from her computer. “He thinks we’re just pencil pushers for the WAC, trying to get bureaucratic hooks into the place.” She looked at the figures on her screen, but couldn’t bring herself to focus on any of them. “Maybe if we told him the truth…”

“That’s the one thing we can’t do.” Alexis said, leaving the window and going over to sit on her bed. “For all we know, he’s evading us because he really is a stooge for the British government. They’ve constantly vocal about not wanting the WAC in their business.”

“Well not the whole truth, obviously, but if we told him we were working on the behalf of some parents looking for a safe place for their children to learn to control their powers…”

“Still, he hasn’t given us a reason not to suspect that he’s linked to something secretive by keeping us out of the loop like this.”

“We can’t do anything without proof though. And honestly, what could we do then? The net result would be another two hundred psionic kids without a place to learn when we’re at our wit’s end trying to find a place for a tenth of that number.”

Alexis frowned and hunched over, staring at the floor. “Are we sure we can’t…”

“It’d be impossible.” Laurel said softly and sympathetically. “I know you’re still in love with the idea of teaching, but the house just doesn’t have the room for even half that many kids. We’d have to build massive additions, on top of making special considerations for any kids with special needs due to their powers. Not to mention the government oversight of a project like that.”

Nodding, Alexis sat back up straight. “And some of the kids on that list are protomorphs. That alone would out our little side business in an instant. And then they’d be in danger from a lot worse than Tome.”

They sat there for a few minutes, in silence but for the sound of Laurel clicking through articles.

“Do we have any other options?” Alexis asked at last. “There are plenty of other schools in Europe we could look into. They can’t all be government programs or Tome-puppets, can they?”

‘I’m afraid most of them are.” Laurel admitted. “The UK has twenty-five hundred psionics of school age with powers to warrant power training and ninety percent of them attend state funded schools. The other ten are either home schooled or in this building. Across the Channel, the French run their training programs almost explicitly as a supersoldier program. The rest pretty much follow one or two of those examples. The only places with heavy privatization are Canada or Australia. We could check those out, but by the time we make arrangements, it may be too late.”

With a frustrated grunt, Alexis fell back on her bed. “What are we going to do then? It isn’t as if we can build our own school by the end of summer.”

Laurel perked up and started typing as Alexis continued in her diatribe.

“All that seems to be left is pray that all the second tier private schools back home really don’t have Tome’s claws in them because they thought that the Academy was enough.”

“Don’t be so sure of that.” Laurel said, clicking her way through several context menus before pulling up a window that seemed to contain a second desktop, complete with icons and wallpaper featuring Dracula and Abraham van Helsing fighting with broadswords atop a castle parapet. “You just gave me an idea.”

“I hope it isn’t the part about praying.” Alexis said flatly, sitting up.

“No, but that wouldn’t hurt.” Laurel replied. “But you mentioned schools that are already built and I was reminded that we’ve helped a number of very powerful people in the past. And there’s one person who is directly connected to a school for psionics that was built but never used because of the advent of the Academy. He’s even alluded to it before.”

Alexis came over and looked over her friend’s shoulder. “And… what does that have to do with vampires?”

“Oh, that’s Cyn’s desktop background.” Laurel shrugged.

“You hacked her computer? That’s a pretty big violation of her privacy, don’t you think?”

“I’m not going through any of her personal stuff.” Laurel defended, “It would just take a very long time to dig up the right clip from the local news site when I know Cyn has every news mention of the Descendants archived on her computer.”

“That doesn’t make it less wrong.”

“No, it would be wrong to open the folder she’s marked ‘totally innocent’ over there.” Laurel said, bringing the clip up. Ah, here he is.”

“It’s beautiful out here.” Vorpal commented as she and Stephan sat poolside, half watching some of the kids enjoying the pool and half watching the wooded countryside just outside the reach of the patio lights.

“You say that every time you’re here.” Stephan said. “Which isn’t nearly often enough.” Noticing a cloud of obscuring mist enveloping the deep end, he snapped off a bit of French.

The mist quickly snapped back into the shape of the timid blonde Vorpal now knew as Wendy. Her doing so robbed two boy of their cover and they quickly released one of the younger boys who they had been in the process of dunking.

Stephan didn’t even say anything. He simply stared the pair down until they apologized to the boy in French and swam off. Making sure they were on to less troublesome activities, he turned back to Vorpal. “So tell me, will it be another three years before I see you in person again?”

Vorpal sighed softly and settled back in her chair, being careful to avoid eye contact. “Stephan, you know that if it were up to me, I’d move here, help you with this place you’re building—do a lot of things I think I should do and want to do.”

“But it is up to you.” He said it casually, trying not to press too hard. “It isn’t the money, it never has been. And everyone who… they’re all gone, Vorpal. Except for those you felt were repentant.”

“Is it ever really going to be over?” Vorpal asked. “I asked you to connect me to Liedecker to see how the Descendants really shape up. And do they? No. They’re too altruistic to do what needs to be done. Most of them are young kids underneath the costumes and bravado. It has to be a fluke that they exposed the Academy like they did, because they haven’t been able to finish off the pieces, that’s for damn sure.”

“Don’t you trust me, Vorpal?” Stephan asked, slyly.

“I trust you, but you’re an optimist.” She shot back, “I still have to take the requisite grain of salt.”

“I can live with that.” Stephan said. “Just trust me a little bit longer. I don’t have the resources to root out a vast conspiracy, but I’m hoping the Descendants do. At the very least, they have an in with the ROCIC. I know you’ve wanted a piece of Tome ever since we learned of their connection with the Academy fiasco, but you can’t rush into this with claws out. Don’t worry, you won’t be stuck lackeying for Liedecker for long.”

“Actually, I don’t mind working for him.” Vorpal admitted. “He respects me and my abilities and the only strikes he orders are acceptable targets: no families and all that. I’ve only worked with that type once or twice before.”

“I thought you wanted to stop.” Stephan asked, disappointed.

“I do.” Vorpal said, “But as long as I have to, this is better than the alternatives.” They went silent, watching the teens at play. One of the boys was running high speed laps back and forth across the surface of the pool and catching everyone in his wake. “That makes me perhaps the worst possible role model for Annette though.”

“She seems to both fear and respect you.” Stephan observed.

“Definitely.” Vorpal nodded, “but most of all, she hates being here.” She gave him an apologetic look. “I know how much you’ve put into this place, but you can’t expect to win over every single kid that walks in the door.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Stephan said softly. “I know. She makes it more than apparent. I’d buy her a ticket myself to wherever she wants if I knew she’d actually be safe and well looked after there. But you’ve seen her attitude, her temper. She’d flare up her powers and get herself or someone else hurt in a week.”

“Didn’t you say that’s what your father said about you?” Vorpal asked.

“Yeah. And then he nearly lost everything he had trying to keep me my going down that road—for my own ends or anyone else’s.”

Vorpal smiled and picked up her glass from the ground beside her. It was non-alcoholic; she felt bad drinking when Stephan couldn’t for fear of losing control. “To Francois Archeneaux.” She said, “A true inspiration to us all.” They touched glasses and drank.

“So what would he have done about Annette?” Stephan directed the question more to himself than anyone else. “He’d realize that he can’t keep her here. He’d see the danger of her being alone.”

“He’d turn to the only person that manages to keep her in check.” Vorpal concluded. “Only to realize that no one in their right mind would entrust her with a child, let alone an impressionable, dangerous teenager.”

“I wasn’t—“Stephan started.

“But that is what he’d do. I’ve heard you talk about your father forever and a day, Stephan and you know it’s true.” Vorpal said, “And you’re just like him, even if you don’t see it. The only problem is, well, seriously, I’m the last person this girl should be around.”

“Then we’ll have to think of something else.” Stephan said, “And hope the promise that we’re trying will calm her down a little. If worse comes to worse, Vorpal, you do know the only people we know to be definitely altruistic.”

“The Descendants?” Vorpal gave him a bored look, “That would be a complete waste of her potential.”

“Yes, but a complete waste that won’t give her into the wrong hands.”

Laurel keyed up the video as Alexis dragged a chair up beside her. “It’s a good thing I have the eidetic memory.” She commented to her friend. “I only heard him mention it in passing, but it’s definitely our best chance at making this work.”

“I hope so.” Alexis agreed. “But realistically, we can’t be so lucky as to have the perfect place right in our back yard.”

The video started with a female reporter. “And following the stunning events surrounding the Reverend Douglas Stiles’s anti-psionic, anti-prelate rally in City Central today in which the Descendants, Mayfield’s native prelates actually protected Stiles from both mundane assassins and his own, apparently psionic assistant, News Provider 3 interviewed several of Mayfield’s top citizens and asked them to weight in on the subject. Last hour, you heard from Lester Mendel, CEO of ConquesTech. This hour, we will hear from the man called Mayfield’s favorite son, philanthropist Vincent Liedecker.”

The scene cut to Liedecker in his sitting room, reclining in a soft chair draped with red fabric. “I really don’t know why you even have to ask.” He said in response to an unheard question. “You can’t outlaw psionics, you can’t… force them to work for you. It doesn’t work like that. These are people. And people have rights, damn it.”

He shifted in his seat. “The only thing this man, Stiles has a point about is that a lot of ‘em, they don’t have proper training. The Academy ended up a pretty damned bad idea though and if you remember, that’s exactly what my father said twenty years ago. I’ve got a property in Mayfield right now that’s still waiting on rezoning that was going to be the school he had built.”

Laurel stopped the video. “If he hasn’t already rezoned it…”

“Maybe we can appeal to his philanthropic side.” Alexis finished. “Huh, the top philanthropist in Mayfield. We couldn’t get any luckier than that.”

End Issue #25