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For the rest of the day, I make myself comfortable in my new environment. We watch a movie and play violent video games, and I finally crash in the borrowed bed.
Nutcracker doesn’t appear in my dreams, which is a relief.
The next couple of days pass by quickly; having roommates who aren’t your mother can be pretty fun. On the third day, Felix gets a text from Valerian:
Be at the lab at 5.
When we notify Edith about this development, she’s not surprised in the least.
Our limo ride to the JFK airport is blessedly uneventful. No Overtaken attack, and when we stop at the passenger drop-off point, Ariel asks Thalia, “You’re not coming with us, right?”
The nun shakes her head.
“She’s made a vow to stay on Earth or some such,” Felix whispers.
Of course. I can see how staying on Earth is a form of penitence, on par with a vow of silence or fasting. When I share this opinion with the others, Ariel starts violently defending her home world, and we argue about it all the way to the lab.
Valerian is already waiting for us when we walk inside, and he’s not alone.
A number of unfamiliar people are here, along with some I’ve met before—besides Kit and Itzel, that is.
One such person is Chester, a probability manipulator who looks like a satyr. Another one is Nina, a woman with facial piercings and extremely powerful telekinesis abilities. Also here is Colton, a giant who is a small enough example of his kind to be able to live on Earth. All three of them are members of the New York Council.
“Welcome,” Valerian says. “Let me make the introductions.” He proceeds to name me and everyone I know, along with our powers. When he gets to the first stranger, I pay closer attention.
“This is Fabian,” Valerian says, nodding at a man only slightly smaller than Colton. “He’s the Alpha of the Berlin pack.”
Impressive. A werewolf Alpha is as powerful as an ally can get.
“He’s famous for his martial arts,” Ariel whispers reverently.
“You’re too kind,” Fabian growls with a heavy German accent. “I invented wolfu, the first martial art performed in wolf form.”
Nina tugs on her nose ring. “A wolf fighting? How would that even look?”
“Let’s hope we don’t get into enough danger to find out,” Itzel grumbles.
“That’s Stanislav,” Valerian continues, nodding at a gray-haired man wearing all black. “Head Enforcer of the Saint Petersburg Council.”
Felix eyes the man warily. “A chort?”
“Da,” Stanislav says with a frown. With a thick Russian accent, he asks, “You have a problem with that?”
“Nyet, nyet,” Felix says quickly. “It’s nice to meet you.”
It is indeed. Chorts can mess with their victim’s organs and turn parts of their own anatomy insubstantial when attacked. Stanislav might be even more useful than an Alpha werewolf, and definitely scarier to touch.
Edith examines Stanislav very carefully, and he glares at her in return. I wonder what’s up with that. I’ve heard something about vampires and chorts being at each other’s throats but don’t recall the details.
“Last but not least is Dylan.” Valerian gestures at an attractive young woman in a leather jacket. “Though Cognizant, she doesn’t have a power in a traditional sense. She’ll be our science adviser.”
Dylan lifts her chin. “If knowledge is power—and it is—I’m the most formidable Cognizant here.”
“Don’t forget the most modest,” Itzel says with an eye roll.
Valerian gives Itzel a stern look. “Dylan has a genius-level IQ and doctorates in multiple disciplines—including virology.”
“And don’t forget my knack for languages,” Dylan says. “I’m your translator as well.”
“Gnomes are good with languages,” Itzel objects. “I speak several.”
“Yes, but unlike you,” Valerian says, “Dylan was willing to spend the time to learn the language of Necronia from our necromancer prisoner.”
Itzel stiffens. “I needed to design the masks.”
“Which I helped with,” Dylan says. “If you—”
“Speaking of masks,” Valerian says. “Those of you who haven’t, please try on yours.”
All of us hustle over to the table where the masks await.
“I used hygieia on yours already,” Valerian says, pointing at the middle one. “Go ahead and put it on.”
I examine the mask. It looks overdesigned—like it might help out against a poison gas attack, not just a virus. A strap goes over the top of my head, and two others loop around my ears, creating a snug fit. When I put it on, I can smell something chemical and metallic, but my breathing doesn’t slow down.
“This is an amazing design,” I say, my voice muffled.
Ariel snatches her mask from the table. “It is really cool. Bailey looks and sounds like Bane.”
“That’s Batman’s nemesis,” Felix explains. “Leave it to Ariel to link anything and everything to her favorite caped crusader.”
Ariel lightly punches his shoulder and puts on her mask. Immediately, she looks like a gnome. So does Felix when he tries on his.
Nina levitates her mask onto her face while everyone else puts on their masks more traditionally.
