Guardians Inc.:Thundersword (Guardians Incorporated #2) (5 page)

      The tension between him and Tony reminded him of the argument he’d had with his father the week before his parents disappeared. Even before becoming a Cypher he could recall every detail of that conversation.

      
“Would you play Russian roulette with a gun that could hold one hundred bullets in its barrel, but only had one inside?”
His father always made up metaphors to make a point. Oh, how he had hated that. Of course, he would give anything to have an argument with his dad today.

      
“Of course not!”
Thomas had answered that day.

      
“Then why do this?”

      “I haven’t done anything, Dad!”
And he hadn’t, yet, but he’d planned to. His dad had seen the signs, the visit to Websites, the hanging around Josh Rutter, who was three years older and everyone in Fulton knew smoked and drank whenever he could.

      Thomas’s father
knew
that Thomas was going to try them at the first chance he got.

      
“Maybe nothing happens, Tom, and it’s just a funny experience for you,”
his dad had said.
“But what if you’re like me?”

      
Dad was a recovering alcoholic and had been diagnosed with Addicting Personality Disorder. He had never hid his problem from Thomas, and when Thomas was about ten years old, he explained everything to him.
“Your mother saved me,”
he always said.

      
Thomas stared at the bookshelves and felt tears burn his eyes. He had lied to his father, and when his parents went on the cruise trip, he’d been ready to get drunk and smoke. Yes, the night his parents disappeared, he had planned going camping with Josh.

      Grandpa’s news about his parents disappearing stopped his trip and he had never even got close to the stuff again.

      Why play with fire, Tom? Why take unnecessary risks?

      His father’s words echoed in his head. He had dismissed them as undue worry and even ignorance, but they had more weight now that his dad wasn’t here to tell him in person.

      He felt guilty of consciously lying and dismissing his dad, and he never had the opportunity to say he was sorry. He had even tried once to tell Gramps about the incident once he had moved with him, but couldn't find the courage to do it. And now that Grandpa was on the other team…

      
No
, he corrected himself.
It's not a team.
As painful as it was, he had to accept that Gramps was in league with the Warmaster, with the
enemies
of Guardians Inc.

      His enemies.

      He knew Tony was right—a confrontation with Grandpa was almost a certainty, and if not with him, the Azure Guards and Tasha were out there too.

      He had to grow up and accept the situation.

      He slammed the desk with his palm.

      “That bad, huh?”

      Thomas looked away from his computer screen. A familiar man with glasses and a dragon belt buckle was standing on the other side of his desk. One of his eyebrows was half burnt, and the side of his face looked sunburned.

      “Sorry.” Thomas rubbed his forehead. “Tag and name of book please?” he asked, extending his hand. He knew that this man always looked for obscure books, mainly, he guessed, to try and score with magical female creatures.

      “Bruce.” The man extended a hand instead of his badge, startling Thomas with a row of pearly white teeth. It was the first time anyone who came to his station did anything more than request a book.

      “Thomas,” he said, returning the handshake. It was an awkward moment. Neither had anything else to say, and Bruce released his hand and extended his nametag.

      “
The Song of Ba'alat Gebal,
please,
”
Bruce said
,
“by Sanchuniathon.”

Thomas scanned the nametag as Bruce said the title of the book. A message appeared on his screen that he read aloud: “Clearance required by head Librarian. A notification has been sent, please wait,” he told him. It wasn't the first time Thomas had seen that message; a woman had requested an unabridged version of
On Incredible Things
, by the Greek author
Palaephatus
and Mrs. Pianova, as head Librarian, had appeared to deal directly with her. Not everyone requested a book written in the 4th Century B.C. and specially requested the unabridged version created by one of the Guardians’ main scholars of that century. 

      Thomas glimpsed at the screen. Ba'alat Gebal was the name of an ancient goddess of fertility and beauty.
Hope springs eternal,
he thought. He looked at Bruce, hunching his shoulders and smiling. Bruce smiled through gritted teeth, seemingly aggravated at the awkwardness.

      “Probably just a couple of minutes,” Thomas said, breaking the silence as he held out Bruce’s tag. He caught a glimpse of his full name: Bruce. P. Wayne-Parker, and something clicked in Thomas’s mind, a stream of thoughts pouring to the forefront.

      P. stands for Peter…Peter and Bruce are superhero first names, and the last names Wayne-Parker are an obvious connection. Both human, one is a billionaire centered on technology and detective skills, a genius, a strategist on peak athletic performance, recluse, obsessed, dark but reliable. The other is a kid, transformed by accident, a genius too; a journalist, socially awkward with an inferiority complex and problem with women; neurotic and prone to do right no matter the cost. Both are ostracized by the public because they don’t understand what they stand for…
his mind droned on and on about the characteristics of the two superheroes and its association with the man in front of him. The name was obviously created, and he was literally analyzing Bruce's reasons to use that name.

      It was a code, and the Cypher inside him was breaking it.

      Bruce grabbed the nametag, but Thomas didn't let it go immediately; he was still decoding ramifications about the name. Bruce gave it a little tug, and that seemed to bring Thomas out from his glitch.

      Thomas eyes focused on Bruce. “I’d love to see your work,” Thomas blurted without thinking. This man had created that name as a code, and Thomas had found it, decomposed it, and was now taking steps to decode why he had chosen it.

      “Why, thank you,” Bruce said a little startled. “It is not nearly finished.”

      “Maybe I can help you,” Thomas offered, pointing at his screen. “You know, with research?” He was anxious to find out what this man was all about and maybe then the code would be broken.

      He could read and understand any written language—his brain automatically translated it—but it was a little different with codes. If they were written, he could break them easily. Show Thomas a labyrinth in a piece of paper, and no matter the level of difficulty he could trace it to the beginning to end, in one easy uninterrupted stroke, without any mistake.

      Put him inside a labyrinth and he was as lost as anyone else until his brain got enough information to infer where the exit was.

      This man was something like that, and Thomas’s Cypher mind needed...
demanded,
more information.        Bruce became apprehensive. “What do you know about my work?” he asked a little defensively.

      
I know that you carry enough baggage to change your name to not only one, but two superheroes; that you are apparently trying to see all the beautiful mythological creatures that exist, and that your name change is driving me crazy.
Of course Thomas couldn't say that, but his brain seemed to know the steps in order to break the code. He leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, “Just the list of books you've gotten out,” he said. “Nixies, dryads, pixies…nymphs!” he added with a wink. “So what is it about?”

      That seemed to put Bruce at ease; he smiled and leaned on the desk. “It's about Magic,” he said, and when Thomas didn't flinch he knew that he had the right audience. “You see, we know that most magical creatures are small. Think of a faerie.” He opened his hand for measurement. “Their bodies react with Magic, so the more Magic in the world the more they grow.” He put his hand by his head and smiled a little suggestively, then moved his hands in front of his chest. “And of course, they also grow in other places…”

      “Oscar!” Mrs. Pianova yelled from behind Thomas, making them jump. She had been unusually sneaky this time. She glared at them both, but lifted her eyebrow only at Thomas. “What were you talking about?”

      Thomas had seen that look many times before, thankfully almost never aimed at him, but at Tony. He imagined that angering Mrs. Pianova could make her hair—always worn as a tight bun—actually lift up and flail about as snakes on Medusa's head. Tony had actually been very close a couple of times of accomplishing it.  

      Thomas nodded at Bruce; he still had his arms in front of his chest. “A...” Bruce stammered. “A touchdown!” He lifted his arms up. “It was Steelers and, and…” He looked at Thomas.

      “Chargers,” Thomas said.

      “And Chargers…yeah,” Bruce continued. “Great game.”

      “Great,” Thomas nodded. “Very close,” he added, and Bruce pointed at him.

      “Very, very close...very ahh...exciting. Right?”

      “Shut up you two,” Mrs. Pianova said. “You sound like crazy persons, and as a good friend of mine used to say, ‘We are not amused by crazy persons.’ This is not the first time I’ve told you this, Oscar.”

      Bruce bit his lip. “My name is Bruce now, Mrs. Pianova. Could you please use it?”

      “No, I won't,” she said. “I won't encourage you more than you need to...
Oscar
,” she emphasized his name with her eyebrow. She placed a heavy bound tome over Thomas's desk. “Here's the book you requested, but you can't take it. You may look at it now under my supervision only.”

      “But my research...” he began, and Mrs. Pianova raised a hand.

      “I consider your research frivolous, juvenile, a little bit secondary and borderline dangerous, but it has progressed this far because somebody thinks it’s necessary. In any event, Ba'alat Gebal belongs to a high Pantheon and is beyond our reach.”

      “I could try and find her with the book,” Bruce countered.

      “And you'd be killed if you succeeded. You can't take it. Do you still want to use it here and now?”

      “How about Themis?” Bruce asked, and Mrs. Pianova scoffed.

      Thomas's brain continued to race as they spoke of mythological beings. There was something that he needed to do with Bruce, but he just didn't know what. It wasn’t just the code in his name—there was something more about him, something Bruce could help
him
with.

      “It'll be better for you to continue with your current line of study,” Mrs. Pianova said.

      “I already have enough data on Fae,” Bruce countered. “I need to start tackling the big guns. Primordials, Conceptuals, even Pantheons. We don’t know what’s going on with them.”

      
Conceptuals.
That word struck Thomas’s head. It was another big clue to the puzzle. He accessed the intra-library browser while they argued, and his mind seemed to know what he was looking for and relay that to his fingers. Just a couple of keystrokes later, an entry for a conceptual mythological creature appeared on his screen.

      “What about Muses?” Thomas said aloud. Bruce and Mrs. Pianova stopped arguing and looked at him.

      “Weren’t you working, Mr. Byrne?” Mrs. Pianova pursed her lips at him while Bruce approached his screen. He read the entry, fiddling with his glasses.

      “Why didn’t I think about them?” Bruce said in a loud voice. Thomas stepped out from his chair and walked toward Mrs. Pianova while Bruce sat down review the entry. “They’re Pantheon, but hang about the world all the time. They love humans!”

      “You’re not supposed to do that kind of research for your customers, Mr. Byrne,” Mrs. Pianova whispered with a frown. “You have way more access than Oscar. He’s not even supposed to see that far into the Intranet.”

      “I know. I’m sorry,” Thomas whispered, “but this is important. I don’t know why, but I had to do it. It’s driving me mad.” Mrs. Pianova’s frown softened; she had a sense when Thomas was in distress and from the look on Thomas’s face, she knew this was really distressing for him.

      Bruce moaned. “It was a good idea,” he said, “but Muses don’t linger anywhere in particular…they are very random. I could never find one. Thank you anyway.”

      Thomas clenched his fists. The droning in his mind became a whisper as it began to fade, and he was losing the grip on the code he needed to break.

      Mrs. Pianova placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded. “I know of one that lingers in one place for much of her time,” she said. “Mneme.”

      
Mneme.
The name echoed in Thomas brain and the droning stopped. This part of the code had been found thanks to Mrs. Pianova.

      “Mneme?” Bruce asked. “How do you spell that?” He placed his fingers on top of the keyboard.

      “Stop!” Mrs. Pianova and Thomas yelled at the same time, but it was too late. As Bruce typed in the first key, the security system activated, and a shock of electricity coursed through the keyboard. Bruce waggled for a second and was thrown back from the computer, his feet dangling from the overturned chair, a wisp of smoke rising from his hands.

      Mr. Pianova tapped Thomas on the shoulder. “Call the medics; I’ll have to update his clearance now that he has seen that far into the Intranet.”

      “I’m sorry,” Thomas told Bruce, but he was completely out, although he had a smile on his face.

Family Ties

      “Out of the question,” Doctor Franco told the team as they entered his office following Mrs. Pianova. She had agreed to accompany them to his office to ask for permission to go and find Mneme.

      “You haven’t even heard us, Doc,” Tony complained.

      “I’ve heard enough already,” Doctor Franco said, crossing his arms in front of him. “You can’t leave the Mansion without Morgan and his guards showing up wherever you are, and you want to help Oscar Winnieh search for a Muse? It’s an unnecessary risk.”