She considered Sharice’s suggestions on dress but simply couldn’t appear in public with these people for the first time in jeans and a T-shirt. So she chose a simple dress, cotton-polyester and patterned, and a pair of low pumps. She intended to bring along a down duster against the chill that hung in the air and that would get worse after dark. She contemplated her makeup and touched it up, stuck the pistol in her purse and went forth to find registration.
As she entered the Administrative Center, which was designed like a temple of some sort, she got her first real look at her fellow attendees. There were two Buddhist monks in saffron robes, a man with “punked” hair and a number of piercings on his face, two women in what she could only describe as “ceremonial” robes covered in what she supposed were “cabalistic” symbols and a number of other people that she categorized, aware that it was uncharitable, as “geeks.” Two of them were obviously a pair, possibly husband and wife, the man tall with dark hair and heavyset and the wife short and… okay, she could lose a few pounds.
She stood in line behind them, patiently waiting and, okay, eavesdropping.
“I’m worried that they’re going to assign us to the Lycaean case,” the woman was saying. “I hate New York.”
“Dartho said there’s a case going on at the cons,” the man said. “Maybe we’ll get that.”
“I could do cons,” the woman said, grinning. “At least we’d be able to fit in. I hate working directly with the Bureau. The damned agents are always looking down their collective nose.”
“I know,” the man said, frowning. “And it’s not like they can outshoot us or outthink us.”
“I’m sorry,” Barbara said, touching his shoulder. “I couldn’t help but overhear that you shoot.”
“Is there a problem with that?” the woman said, somewhat nastily.
“None at all,” Barb said, smiling at her. “It’s just the person that picked me up from the airport seemed very… down on violence. And I enjoy shooting. So I was surprised.”
“Oh,” the man said, trying not to look at her chest and failing miserably. “Well, there’s a range here. But, yeah, a lot of the operators are really down on guns. They seem to think that that’s what the cops we work with are for.”
“Part of it is a misunderstanding of the three-fold path,” the woman said, shaking her head. “Evil given returns three fold, you know? But using violence in the service of good is good. It’s not violence itself that stains the soul but the nature of the feelings when violence is used.”
“I see,” Barbara said. “What if… what if when you use violence for good you know that the… side of you that is doing that is not, essentially, good?”
“That can be a problem,” the woman said, earnestly, talking a bit fast so that the words ran together. “That is a crack that the Enemy can use to strike through to your soul. The best way to use violence is to be so steeped in the muscle memory that when you enter combat you simply respond, emotionlessly. Or so it seems.”
“Have you… ?” Barb asked.
“No, actually,” the woman admitted. “So far we’ve never had to draw our weapons. But we’re fairly new to all of this. My name’s Julie Lamm, by the way,” she added, smiling and holding out her hand. “And this is James, my husband. And you are… ?”
“Barbara Everette,” Barb said, holding out her own as she tried to keep up with the rapid patter of the woman’s voice. She had never realized it was possible to both have a southern accent and talk like a New Yorker.
“Crap!” James said, his eyes widening. “You’re Barbara Everette?”
“I’m very pleased to meet you,” Julie said, her own eyes wide. “And I take back any suggestions that I made.”
“I don’t see why,” Barb said, shaking her hand and James’. “I’m here to learn.”
“Learn what?” James asked. “You took down a sixth level avatar! There are only about three agents in the U.S. that might have been able to do that!”
“James, stop that,” Julie said, wise understanding in her eyes and her speech slowing. “Barbara, you have to understand that what you did is considered… amazing. I hadn’t known who you were or I wouldn’t have been so… definite. To simply hold your soul against such an adversary shows that your soul is very tough, very strong. Yes, using anger in combat might open up a channel to the Enemy. But it would take a strong avatar to use it, especially if Almadu was unable to do it. Almadu is one of the Children of Tiamat. A very ancient and powerful godling. If you were able to withstand his glamour, then it’s likely that your soul is… very pure.”
“I was protected by the hand of the Lord,” Barbara said, simply. “I… felt the… what did you call it?”
“Glamour,” Julie said. “It’s one way of saying a mental projection. They come in various… guises. But each tries to use the evil that you feel in your soul against you. If he was unable to…”
“Oh, but he did,” Barbara said, relieved that she could actually talk about her experience with people that didn’t think she was insane. “I… walked through… horrible visions. But then the Lord entered me and they… stopped. I could feel His light in my soul, shielding me.”
“I heard you had a full manifestation,” James said, interestedly. “Actual physical projection.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Barb said, humbly. “But I could not have done what I did without the shielding hand of the Lord over me.”
“Christian?” the man with piercings asked, somewhat hostilely. He had died black hair and blue eyes that were almost black. He was wearing a tattered pair of black jeans and a plain black T-shirt. Barbara realized that if you ignored the piercings he was actually good looking in a thin and hollowed out way. He had gotten his badge and it read simply “Dragon-Kin.”
“Yes,” Barb said, simply. “I’m an Episcopalian.”
“This is Barbara Everette, Dartho,” James interjected.
“Oh,” Dartho said, nodding. “Pleased to meet you. Good job in Louisiana. For a beginner.” He didn’t really sound as if he was pleased to meet her.
“Thank you,” Barbara said, dryly, cocking her head to the side. “I take it you’re not a beginner?”
“No,” Dartho said, turning and walking away.
“Wooo,” James said, shaking his head. “I hadn’t expected that.”
“Dartho’s a powerful adept,” Julie said, shaking her head. “And highly trained. Not one of the ones that think violence is only for the police, either. But probably not powerful enough to have done what you did. That has to grate on him. Especially since you’re…” Julie gestured at her and shrugged.
“Good looking?” Barb said, hotly. “Well dressed? Normal looking? A… what’s the term, a ‘mundane’?”
“Yep,” Julie said, grinning. “That would be it. Between who you obviously are, what you represent, and how much more powerful you are, as a newbie, he has to be sort of hot under the collar.”
“That is so…” Barbara said and stopped.
“Human?” Julie asked. They’d reached the head of the line and she nodded at the person handing out badges. “Julie and James Lamm.”
“Right here, Julie,” the woman said. She was heavyset with teased out red hair wearing a T-shirt captioned in Latin. “Good to see you again.”
“Glad to be here,” Julie said, sighing. “But there’s a lot of tension.”
“Barbara Everette is attending,” the woman said, nervously. “We’re all on pins and needles. I hear she’s a real…”