Induction by T.K. Eldridge (howl and other poems TXT) 📕

Sid

Seven at night, this time of year, was twilight. We found ourselves dressed in black tactical gear, in position around an old, one-story elementary school that had been converted to a community center. Tonight, it was being used by a group registered as The Cultural Exchange Commission. According to the center’s records, the group numbered about thirty to forty members. So far, we’d seen about twenty go inside. The first five that went in about an hour ago carried food trays and bags, so that was the setup and prep crew. After about twenty minutes, people started showing up in singles or small groups. Sin had a camera that was grabbing shots of each person and we’d already identified Professors Angiers, Lang, and Lang’s son, Samuel. A few of the expelled cadets went in, then Lord James showed up. He got out of a black town car with another man that looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him.

I heard an intake of breath through my earbud, though, and then Sin said, “Sebastian LeFleur. Talk about deep fucking pockets.”

Dad spoke through the coms, “Keep focused, everyone. Things just got real interesting.”

“Isn’t LeFleur a witch?” I asked.

Grampa Walsh answered, “He is, an old and supposedly powerful one, but I have never seen him do much to prove that. A lot of hearsay because there were powerful ones in his family. So, LeFleur for the witches and James for the shifters.”

Sin spoke into the coms then, “Keith just went inside with two other young men.”

Sett answered, “I’ve got the recording going here in the van. Clear and loud.”

Auntie Sett was in the command van while Dad, Grampa, Sin, me, and a dozen of Grampa’s people were spaced around the center. If Keith got into trouble, we could be inside in moments and back him up. We weren’t expecting to need to do that, but better to plan for it and not need it.

“Okay, Sid. You go back to the van with Sett. I don’t want her there alone in case someone comes sniffing around,” Grampa said.

“Yes, sir,” I replied and slowly made my way back from my position towards the van. I nodded to Tasha Campbell as she moved in to take my place. Tasha had helped with a couple of the Academy shifter classes as an assistant teacher and was a solid team member to have on our side.

I tapped twice on the back of the van, then opened the door just enough to slide inside and shut it quietly behind me. I pulled off my helmet and glasses, stuffed my gloves into the helmet and found a seat next to Sett. She handed me a headset so I could hear the audio while we watched the live feed from Keith’s button camera.

“This is pretty good quality,” I said, my voice kept low.

“Your Grampa doesn’t mess around. Best equipment he can find, we get to use,” Sett said.

We watched as the gathering made their way to rows of chairs while Grandpa Boudreau and Mr. LeFleur went up to a table in front with four chairs on one side. They sat down and a young man brought them drinks and a plate of snacks. Another set a carafe of coffee and a pitcher of water on the table, with two more cups.

“Who else do you think sits up there with them?” I asked Sett.

“Two more rich assholes?” Sett snarked. She handed me a bag of my favorite chips and a can of cold espresso, then popped her own open and sipped. “The best part about surveillance. The snacks.”

I laughed and pulled the bag open.

“You know who LeFleur is, don’t you?” Sett asked.

“Other than an old, rich, witch? No.”

“Over the past fifty years or so, LeFleur has made about twenty offers on the Fortin farm. Each one was incrementally more generous. And each time, the answer has been ‘no fucking way’. And he doesn’t take no for an answer.”

“Do you think he’s behind this Purist League crap? Like Lord James?”

“You mean, are they the two that started it up? No. They’re the bankroll and the muscle. We haven’t yet figured out who is the one pulling all the strings.”

“What do we know?”

“About thirty years ago, a decade or two after the Species War, the racist crap started to ramp up significantly. It wasn’t just bigots screaming about this side or that being better, but targeted attacks on both sides. A witch-owned store gets firebombed. A shifter family gets harassed until they move out of town. Back and forth until people were starting to worry about another full-on war coming again. The SPD and Academy were still pretty new at that time and they had their hands full trying to get things to quiet down. They arrested a lot of low-level punks who were behind the antics and the most they ever got out of any of them was that She would be coming for them. We still have no idea who She is or was. The SPD cracked down hard, again, about twenty years ago, and cleaned up most of the active gangs. Then, Liam Walsh was murdered, and James Boudreau took over the SPD. Hindsight being what it is, we can see now that from that point on, it was a slow, insidious growth of this Purist League, and the division and breaking down of the basic tenets the SPD and the Academy were founded upon.”

Sett stopped talking as the meeting started to come to order. The two seats beside LeFleur were still empty. A microphone was handed to Lord James and he got to his feet.

“Good evening, everyone,” James said. “Welcome to the monthly meeting of the League for Purity Among Species. If this is your first meeting, please stand up,”

Keith did us the favor of turning around to look, so we got to see two young women giggling as they stood and a stoic, older man. I got on the computer and sent the images to Tasha’s brother, Tino. Antonio “Tino” Morales, a recent graduate of MIT and technological genius, was back at the house he shared with his sister. One room of the house was a tech junkie’s dream and wholly Tino’s world.

While we watched the video of them going over the previous meeting’s minutes, Tino did his magic and was soon sending us back his results.

“The girls are Inez and Jana Peters from Sorsyville who attend the university and live on campus. They’re listed as witches. The man is Michael Burley, a shifter who does handyman work around town. Came to town about six months ago from the city. He’s been mostly hired to work on James Boudreau’s properties.” I read off the information so everyone on the coms could hear it. “So, what? Lord James can’t get enough locals to follow his bullshit ideas, he has to import them from elsewhere?”

“Either that or new folks coming into town are easy pickings,” Dad said over the coms.

“You’ve all been given your assignments. I want to congratulate Mr. Angiers and Ms. Lang for achieving the rank of Deputy after their work in removing the Boudreau twins from the SPD roster. Mr. Samuel Lang, please stand up,” James said.

“Assignments? We’ll have to ask Keith what those are and how they get them,” I said.

Samuel stood from his seat in the front row.

“Mr. Lang,” James continued. “In light of your excellent work, you will be partnered with Mr. Roberts in the next phase of our plan.”

We watched the video as Keith stood, a few rows back and across the aisle from Samuel.

“Meet with Mr. LeFleur after we break for refreshments to get your assignments.”

“Yes, sir,” both men said, then took their seats.

“Remember, everyone. Keep your eyes open and your mouths shut. Do your assignments and contact your team leader when it is done. For you new folks, that’s Mr.