Chapter 47
We all trooped back outside, and the prime minister led us to a podium that hadn’t been there when we landed.
As we crossed the lawn, the Meg dropped silently down, catching all attention.
I moved underneath it as Omega tear-dropped the entry portal down to the ground and when it irised open, Buster launched herself at me across twelve feet of open space.
The Meg shot upward as I caught up to Vesta and the politicians.
All eyes and cameras were on me and Buster as I acted as her beast of burden.
“Sorry,” I said to everyone.
Croft turned from us and looked at the crowd with a sardonic grin. “Cheeky fellow, eh? Here five minutes and already upstaging me.”
The crowd of reporters laughed.
“Also shot my introduction all to bollocks,” he said.
“Let’s try again. After self-deporting from America, our interplanetary prodigal son, Craig Blackmore, has arrived home.
And he happened to bring along his much better half, Vesta Reynolds-O’Carroll.
As well as what looks like the Beast of Exmoor.
We thought you might like to ask a few questions. Caroline, let’s start with you.”
A thirty-something woman in the front row with immaculate blonde hair and makeup leaned forward. “You’ve had a whirlwind arrival. What were your first impressions?” she asked, her eyes moving between Vesta and me. We exchanged glances and silently decided who would answer.
“Welcoming would be the word that comes to mind,” Vesta said. “We certainly never expected to have the prime minister, himself, and his administration drop everything and meet us on arrival. Especially after our last moments at school,” she said, nodding my way.
I stepped closer to the floating drone that was acting as microphone. “Armed ICE agents,” I said, holding my palms up like a scale. “And UK tea with the head of government,” I said, my right hand rising.
“You both worked to help a frozen town in the grips of a massive blizzard and forced deportation was your thanks,” she said.
“Yeah, like being tossed from the pub for buying a round,” I said. Laughter.
“Nigel,” Croft said, pointing to a bespectacled man two rows back.
“I had six very serious questions to ask, and they all evaporated in the face of your passenger. Who or perhaps what is that?”
“This is Buster. She’s a fifth generation Golf Alpha feline, descended from a Maine Coon cat,” Vesta said. “She is both a scarred warrior of many centipede battles and very much a princess.”
“Centipede? As in Bertran’s False Centipede?” he followed up, incredulous.
“She’s a master at killing them. Makes her extremely popular on Greenacres, er, Golf Alpha,” I said.
“Halley?,” Croft pointed to another woman.
“What are your plans?”
“We think we can finish our university classes remotely, but we also hope to visit with as many communities, both normal and supernormal, as we can,” Vesta said.
“And if we can help out in any way, well, of course we will. I think Home Secretary Barden has a list of places that we might be able to aid in some small way.”
“Small like heating an entire town in subzero weather?” Halley asked, one brow up. “And apparently killing a rogue supernatural predator?”
“That sounds exhausting,” I said. “But sure. Although maybe we could just help grow something, and by we, I mean Vesta.”
More laughs. “What would you contribute?” Halley followed.
“Mostly moral support, but if she gets tired, I can drop to all fours and provide an outstanding emergency bench with my back.”
“Or he might stop a violent attack before it starts. He’s saved my life three times, my parents’ twice, and he cooks pretty well too.”
The chuckles were nervous.
“Ah, excellent segue, Miss Vesta. Who wants to ask a hard question?” Croft inquired. “Forest?”
“President Wagner posted a rather damning diatribe against you this morning, Craig. How would you respond?”
“I’m not familiar with his post,” I said. “We’ve been busy with logistics. What’s the summation?”
“He calls you a dangerous killer who he successfully removed from America. Said it would be criminal to allow you into another country.”
“Well, I am a dangerous killer. You all saw the videos during our wonderful first interview. As to criminal, I have never been charged with anything, unlike President Wagner. My impression is that he is a self-serving megalomaniac with a persecution complex and the morals of a drug dealer.”
“He alludes to an event on Golf Alpha where you shot law enforcement and something he calls a bloody event at your school.”
“I intervened with a criminal group of interplanetary arms dealers on Golf Alpha who were torturing a decorated FBI agent, and I stopped an assassination attempt at Arcane made by a supernatural hit team against the children of Chris Gordon and Tatiana Demidova. Maybe he should be known as the president of false information and lying. Again, no charges ever filed.”
“But you admit you are a killer?” Forest pressed.
My head tilted slightly as I processed his words.
“If you kill anything then you are, by definition a killer. Every country on this planet trains and supports entire organizations of killers. They call them military, special operations, hostage rescue, special weapons and tactics, armed police, spies, agents, operatives. My father was a Royal Marine. I can tell you for a fact that those fine people are not trained to be childcare specialists. They are trained and expected to excel at ending threats. They are killers.”
“Are you a warlock?” Forest asked in the silence that followed.
“Define warlock,” I said back.
“A male witch who is specialized in training and magical skills for war.”
“Yes, Forest. I am.”