Industrial Magic

Less-than-Legal Adventuring



EVERETT WEBER LIVED OUTSIDE MODESTO, IN A SMALL farmhouse, an ugly cinder block with a freshly mowed lawn and tidy yard, but with woodwork years overdue for a paint job. Probably a rental, owned by whoever owned the surrounding vineyards. Like most renters, Weber was quite willing to keep the place neat but wasn’t about to dip into his own pockets for repairs.

Weber worked at a place in Silicon Valley, so we hoped that at one P.M. on a Friday, that’s where he’d be. From Lucas’s preliminary background check, Weber appeared to live alone. Add in the fact that his house was on a dirt road, with no neighbors for a half-mile in any direction, and a daytime break-and-enter wasn’t as risky as it sounded.

The remote location made it perfect for a B&E but more difficult to get up close and check for occupancy. We called the house from the road, and no one answered the phone, but that didn’t necessarily mean Everett wasn’t there. After some skulking around, Lucas proclaimed the house empty, and we met at the back door, whereupon we discovered that every window came complete with bars and security decals. After a quick check, Lucas declared the decals legit. Weber had a security system, and it was activated.

“No disarming spells in your repertoires, I suppose?” Adam whispered as we huddled near the back door.

Lucas pulled a small kit from under his leather jacket. “No, but I do have this.”

“Cool.” Adam crouched beside Lucas as he worked. “Now this you didn’t learn in law school.”

“You’d be surprised,” Lucas murmured. “No, this comes from having Cabal contract employees as clients. As you might expect, the Cabals don’t contract them for their typing skills. In some cases, an exchange of skills proves more valuable than financial remuneration.” He fiddled with a mess of wires. “There. Now comes the difficult part. I need to cut these three at the same time or I’ll set it off. However, if I do cut them, it’s easily discovered, and Weber will know his system was breached. This may take a few minutes.” He reached into his kit. “First, I need to—”

Adam reached down and grasped the mess of wires. A spark, then they disintegrated to ash.

“Or we could just do that,” Lucas said.

“Damn those spontaneous electrical fires,” Adam said.

“Been practicing, I see,” I said.

Adam grinned and wiped the ash from his hand. He grabbed the door handle.

“Wait,” I said.

I cast an unlock spell. Adam opened the door. We paused, but no alarm sounded. Lucas finished replacing the wires, then waved us inside.



We soon understood why Weber put a security system on a rented farmhouse. Any money he’d saved on rent, he’d invested in electronics, with multiple computers, a plasma TV, and a hi-fi system that I’m sure rocked the neighbors even a mile away.

While Adam and Lucas started searching, I headed for my area of expertise: the computer. I quickly discovered that Weber applied the same standard of security to his hard drive as he did to his house. Although he was the only person living there, he had the computer password-protected. It took nearly thirty minutes to crack that, only to find that all his data—even his e-mail—was encrypted. I burned the files onto a CD for later.

Since Lucas and Adam were still searching, I returned to Weber’s computer to search for a specific piece of information: a credit card number. Seeing how careful Weber was with his files, I assumed this search would be futile. Well, I was wrong. Five minutes of hunting and I found a cookie containing an unencrypted credit card number. Later I could hack into the credit card company system and search his records, in hopes that if he was our killer, he’d used his card for traveling.

After another hour, we declared the house thoroughly searched. Lucas and Adam hadn’t found anything. We could only hope that decrypting Weber’s files and checking his credit card records would prove more fruitful.



We retreated to Santa Cruz, where Adam lived with his parents. I was eager to get Weber’s credit card records, but Adam’s mother, Talia, insisted that we have dinner first and, having been on food-free mental superdrive since breakfast, I had to agree that my brain needed nourishment before I did something as dangerous as hack into credit card companies.

We had fettuccine Alfredo alfresco, on the multilevel deck that covered half the backyard. Talia and Robert ate with us to hear about the case. As usual, Adam’s initial recitation had left out half the details and mangled the rest, so they’d waited to hear the real story from the source.

Talia was one of the few humans who lived within the supernatural world. That was her choice, to accept the dangers of that knowledge in order to better understand her son and husband, and play a full role in their lives. Over the last few years, Robert’s health had begun to fail, and Talia had been picking up the slack. Robert was only sixty-eight, but his physical condition had never been what one would call robust, forcing him even from an early age to take the scholarly approach to helping other half-demons, acting as a resource and a confidant. Talia, who was twenty-seven years younger, had embraced the midlife career change. As for Adam taking over Robert’s work, well, let’s just say no one expected him to be sitting behind a desk, reading demonology texts, anytime soon.



Adam bit off a chunk of bread and chewed it as he talked. “So that’s it. We broke, we entered, we found zip.”

“I hope you were careful—” Talia began, then stopped. “Yes, I’m sure you were. If there’s anything Robert and I can do…”

“Lend us your Miata?” Adam said. “The Jeep’s been making a funny noise.”

“The Jeep’s been making funny noises since you bought it, and the last time you drove my car, you buggered up the convertible roof, but if there’s anything else we can do…”

“You asked about a demon named Nasha,” Robert said, speaking for the first time since the meal had begun.

“Oh, that’s right,” I said. “I completely forgot.”

“Well, I would have relayed an answer through Adam, but I was stalling to give myself more time, and possibly find a better answer. There’s no mention in any text of a demon named Nasha. It’s quite likely the poor girl misheard, but I can’t even find a name that phonetically resembles Nasha. The closest is Nakashar.”

“Nakashar’s an eudemon, isn’t he?” Adam said as he peeled an orange. “Very minor. Outside of the Babylonian archive journals, he’s not even mentioned.”

I looked up, surprised Adam knew this.

Adam continued. “So it’s not likely to be Nakashar. Eudemons can be summoned, but they won’t interfere in our world. Sacrificing to them is like bribing a meter maid to get out of a speeding ticket. We’re talking about a druid, though, right? So we should be looking at Celtic deities. What about Macha?”

“Of course,” Robert said. “That would make sense, wouldn’t it?”

“I know zilch about the Celtic pantheon,” I said.

“Not surprising. Although they are often classified as demons, they aren’t included in demonology texts because only druids can communicate with them. They don’t fit the classic definition of either eudemon or cacodemon. If you ask them, they’ll tell you they’re gods, but most demonographers are uncomfortable with that appellation, and prefer to label them ‘minor deities.’ The study of Celtic deities—”

“—is fascinating,” Talia cut in with a smile. “And I’m sure everyone would love to hear about it…another time.”

Robert chuckled. “Thank you, Lia. Let’s just say that Macha is a likely suspect. She’s one of the three Valkyrie aspects of the Morrigan, and she certainly does accept human sacrifices. That’s one piece of evidence to support your theory, then. Now, I know you want to get back to work. Adam? If you can help your mother with the dishes—”

“Oh, don’t torture him,” Talia said. “I’m sure he wants to help Pa—” She caught a look from Robert. “Or perhaps first he can show Lucas that motorcycle.”

“That’s right.” Adam turned to Lucas. “Remember I was telling you about that guy my friend knows? Bought an Indian, took it apart, and couldn’t figure out how to put it back together? Well, his wife’s making him sell it, so I had him e-mail me some pics. Looks like a big metal jigsaw puzzle, but I thought you might like to take a look. You could probably get it cheap, store it here until you guys get a place.”

“You boys go on, then,” Robert said. As they left, he motioned for me to stay behind.

“Okay,” I said when they were gone. “Since when does Adam know about minor eudemons and Celtic deities?”

“Surprised?” Robert smiled. “I think that was the idea. He’s been studying for a few months now, but probably didn’t mention it because he wanted to astound you with his sudden brilliance.”

I moved to the chair beside Robert’s.

“It’s never been easy for him,” Robert continued. “Hearing everyone talk about your accomplishments. I’ll admit, I’ve been guilty of lauding your achievements in the past few years, hoping it would encourage him to take on a more active role in the council.”

“He’s talked about it,” I said. “But it’s never gone beyond talk. With added power comes added responsibility.”

Robert smiled. “And added work, both of which lack a certain appeal for Adam. In the last few years, though, he’s been looking at where you were, and where he was—a college dropout, tending bar—and it bothered him enough to re-enroll at college, but I think he was still able to justify it, tell himself you’re an anomaly and no one else can be measured along the same yardstick. Then he met Lucas, and saw what he’s doing with his life. I think he’s realized that if he continues down this route, he’ll be left behind, the friend who watches from the sidelines, buys the beer, and listens to the war stories.”

“So boning up on demonology is step one in a bigger plan.”

“I wouldn’t say a ‘plan’ per se. Adam has ambitions, but he hasn’t figured out where to channel them.” As Talia returned for another armload of dishes, Robert smiled up at her. “Now, his mother knows how she’d like to see them channeled. Into book-reading and studying, hands-off work like his old man.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Talia said. “Unfortunately, for Adam, it would require heavy sedation and fireproof chains. Being involved means being involved, the more dangerous the better.”

“It’s not that dangerous,” I said. “Not really.”

Talia laughed and patted my shoulder. “You don’t need to whitewash it for me, Paige. I knew my son was never going to lead a quiet life working in an office. In some cases, biology really is destiny. He has power. Better he should use it for good. Or, at least, that’s what I keep telling myself.”

“He’s got a first-rate defense system,” I said.

“Exactly. He’ll be fine.” She exhaled and nodded. “He’ll be fine. Now, Paige, go find what you need to stop this guy, and if you need our help, just ask.”

I’d hacked into this credit card company’s files before—the last time being only a few weeks ago when Lucas needed information for a case. They hadn’t changed any of their security parameters since then, so I popped into the system easily. Within twenty minutes I had Weber’s credit card transaction records. Nothing on them indicated that he’d visited any of the target cities in the last six months. That, however, might only mean that he was smart enough not to make hotel reservations or dinner purchases with his credit card. Or he might have used a different card.

Lucas slipped into the study as I finished. When I told him I’d struck out, he decided to make some phone calls and see whether we could find another way to place Weber out of town on the days of the attacks. These calls were best made from a pay phone, so he took Adam and left. Did he really need Adam to chauffeur him around Santa Cruz? No, but if he’d left him, I’d have spent the next hour with Adam breathing down my neck as I tried to crack Weber’s data files. So Lucas took him along.

It took me about thirty minutes to determine the encryption program Weber had used on his files. Once I knew what he’d used, I downloaded a cracking program and translated them into text. For the hour I waded through the boring detritus of an average life: e-mail jokes, online dating postings, bill payment confirmations, Christmas card address labels, and a hundred other mundane bits of data raised to the value of top-secret information by a paranoid mind and a shareware encryption program.

At ten-fifty, my watch alarm went off. Time to check in with Elena. I phoned her, talked to Savannah, then returned to my work. The rest of the files on the disk appeared to be work-related. Like most professionals, Weber’s day didn’t end when the clock struck five, and for contract employees, the drive to translate that contract into a full-time job often means bringing work home to impress the company with your throughput. He had plenty of data files on his computer, and a folder filled with programs in SAS, COBOL, and RPG. The mind-numbing side of programming: data manipulation and extraction.

I looked at the lists of data files. There were over a hundred on the disk and I really didn’t want to skim through each one. Yet I couldn’t just put them aside based on assumptions about the content. So I whipped up a simple program to open each file and write a random sampling of the data into a single new file. Then I scanned the new file. Most of it looked like financial data, not surprising given that Weber worked in the accounting division of a Silicon Valley company. Then, a third of the way down the file, I found this:

Tracy Edith McIntyre

03/12/86

shaman

NY5N34414

Race Mark Trenton

11/02/88

sorcerer

YY8N27453

Morgan Anita Lui-Delancy

23/01/85

half-demon

NY6Y18923


Now, Silicon Valley companies may employ some pretty young people, and some pretty strange people, but I don’t think teenage supernaturals made up a significant proportion of their staff. I found two other similar lists farther down. Three files with information on the teenage children of supernaturals. Three Cabals had been the victims of a killer targeting their youth. Definitely not a coincidence.

My sampling program had pulled off only the first eighty characters in each record, but the information in those records extended well over that. As with most data files, though, all you saw were strings of numbers and Y/N indicators, meaningless without a context. To read and understand these files, you needed a program that extracted the data using a record key.

Ten minutes later, I’d found the program that read the Cabal files. I ran it, then opened the file it created.

Criteria A: age<17; living with parent(s)= N; current location city NOT blank, current location country = USA

ID

Name

Age

Cabal

P. Race

State

01-645-1

Holden Wyngaard

16

Cortez

shaman

LA

01-398-04

Max Diego

14

Cortez

Vodoun

NY

01-452-1

Dana MacArthur

15

Cortez

hd/witch

GA

02-0598-3

Colby Washington

13

Nast

half-demon

SC

02-1232-3

Brandy Moya

14

Nast

half-demon

AB

02-1378-2

Sarah Dermack

15

Nast

necro

TN

03-083-2

Michael Shane

16

StC

half-demon

CA

03-601-2

Ian Villani

14

StC

shaman

NY

Criteria B: living with parent(s) = Y; parental marital status IN [D,W,S]; employee is custodial parent = Y; parental occupation = bodyguard, department = CEO

ID

Name

Age

Cabal

P. Marital Stat.

01-821-1

Jacob Sorenson

16

Cortez

Widowed

03-987-1

Reese Tettington

14

St. Cloud

Divorced

At my elbow was a piece of paper with three names on it—the names of the teens killed from the other Cabals, the only information we had about them. I’d already memorized that list, but still looked over now, needing to be sure I wasn’t imagining things. I read the names.

Colby Washington.

Sarah Dermack.

Michael Shane.

I grabbed my cell phone and called Lucas.