Rogue Rescue (Rogue Agents of Magic Book 3) Read online

  Rogue Rescue

  Rogue Agents of Magic™ Book 3

  TR Cameron

  Michael Anderle

  Martha Carr

  This book is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  Cover by Fantasy Book Design

  Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

  A Michael Anderle Production

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  Version 1.00, October, 2021

  ebook ISBN: 978-1-68500-545-0

  Print ISBN: 978-1-68500-546-7

  The Oriceran Universe (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are Copyright (c) 2017-21 by Martha Carr and LMBPN Publishing.

  The Rogue Rescue Team

  Thanks to our JIT Readers:

  Thomas Ogden

  Wendy L Bonell

  Dave Hicks

  Zacc Pelter

  Dorothy Lloyd

  If we’ve missed anyone, please let us know!

  Editor

  Skyhunter Editing Team

  Dedication

  For those who seek wonder around every corner and in each turning page. And, as always, for Dylan and Laurel.

  — TR Cameron

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Author Notes - TR Cameron

  Author Notes - Martha Carr

  Other series in the Oriceran Universe:

  Connect with The Authors

  Books By Michael Anderle

  Chapter One

  Kevin Serrano paced the room behind the two curved desks occupied by his technicians. Monitors filled the wall in front of them, some mammoth and others only large, their flat screens showing his teams moving into position. The techs operated drones flying high above the scene, their enhanced optics permitting them to remain far enough away that the targets wouldn’t hear them. Fortunately, it was a crisp and cloudless night, probably the best environment imaginable for the operation about to take place. Sometimes, the good guys get lucky.

  Another monitor displayed a broader view of the area in Georgetown where the target brownstone was. The image was a computer rendering overlaid on a drone feed, with small icons representing police presence in motion at various points around the map. Whenever one of them appeared headed toward the perimeter of his team’s operational zone, a tech would issue orders through their hack into the PD computer system to reroute it. They’d been pushing the police away for fifteen minutes and probably had about that much time left before the chance of detection grew to unacceptable levels.

  He said, “Getting close now.”

  His second-in-command, Natasha Kline, nodded. She’d wanted to be in the field for this one—to be fair, she wants to be in the field for every mission—but he’d instantly rejected that idea. It wasn’t an appropriate adventure for her or the other magical on the team, Makka, to take part in.

  Nonetheless, she wore her full combat gear in case she needed to portal to the location and get involved. If that happens, things have seriously gone to hell, and we should retreat, anyway.

  One of the techs announced, “Squad A reports in position.” Kevin returned his eyes to the monitors. The red tags that represented the four members of Squad A created a stationary cluster near the front of the house. Squads B and C were still in motion but had almost reached their designated destinations.

  Each of his people was dressed in unidentifiable black fatigues for the operation, with body armor and backpacks for defense, and carried shotguns loaded with nonfatal ammunition. Each also bore some sort of Taser-inspired device, some of them modeled after pistols, others electrical nets that deployed from thrown canisters, and a bunch of simple shock grenades. The plan was to capture, rather than kill, their high-value target.

  As he paced past her, he asked Tash, “Any last-minute concerns?”

  He caught her scowl in his peripheral vision as she replied, “Yeah. I’m here rather than there. That’s a mistake.”

  He huffed a small laugh, knowing she understood his reasoning but still felt the need to grouse. “That particular question has been asked and answered to death. As the movie says, ‘Let it go.’”

  She sighed. “Whatever. Other than that incredibly poor choice on your part, it looks like our people will be in optimal strike points for the operation.” She raised her voice. “Do we have the extra drones in position?”

  Cassandra, their chief tech, replied, “Hovering nearby. If anyone attempts to move in on the target from any direction, we’ll see them coming.” She pointed at the highest row of monitors, positioned above the massive main displays. Each showed the feed from a drone, changing colors and images as the craft scanned through various detection modes.

  One of the other techs announced, “Squad B in position.”

  Almost there. Kevin said, “I always knew having an oversight committee would be bad for business.”

  Tash's reply carried an extra dose of sarcasm. “Right. Or, maybe, you don’t like the idea that someone’s watching you. That you’re accountable.”

  He rolled his eyes as he continued to pace. “Accountability is fine. Accountability to politicians, also mostly fine. Accountability to morons, that’s an entirely different situation.”

  She laughed. “Well, you’ll still have the morons after tonight.”

  He nodded. “If only our enemies had chosen one of them to visit, instead.”

  Left unmentioned was that a member of Sheen’s team had almost certainly visited one of the morons, his private term for Senators Richardson and Borowski. That wasn’t who they were interested in on this particular evening. While he’d love to see the two elected representatives from Nevada sent packing, their missteps hadn’t yet ascended to the level of fraternizing with the enemy. Unlike tonight’s targets.

  His adrenaline spiked as the tech announced, “Squad C in position. Holding on your orders.”

  He activated his comm, which connected him to all his people. “All squads, clear to proceed. Stay safe. Do good.” The last had become a frequent refrain for him, exhorting his team to perform well and reminding them that their mission served society. He and his team securely held the moral high ground. Although tonight’s operation might be at the bottom edge of that lofty perch, it still wasn’t climbing into the mud with the terrorists who were their ultimate targets.

  Tash muttered, “I should be there.”

  He stopped his relentless movement and took a spot beside her, watching the screen. “No. I need you here. That’s the burden of leadership, my friend.”

  “You suck.”

  The simple insult made him laugh despite the tension of the moment. “Not the first time someone’s told me that. Doubtless won’t be the last.”

  They both fell silent, eyes glued to the displays as tiny figures moved toward the front and back of the row house, ready to strike a blow against those who threatened their country.

  Senator Aaron Finley laid down his cards with a grin. “Gin.”

  Bryant sighed and threw his cards down in disgust, having been only one turn away from making the same claim himself. He added up the values of the multiples and sequences on the table, since tonight they were playing to five hundred, and looked at his watch. Maybe I can get out of here before he officially beats me. Call it a draw.

  “Is it time for another simulated failure?” They’d been playing cards to kill time between Finley’s deactivation of the anti-magic emitter in the house. The senator had been feigning problems with the unit and said he’d even brought in some government techs to examine it to enhance the illusion. It meant that Bryant had to stay for several hours during each visit.

  Not a particularly onerous task. Aaron’s got good whiskey and is a fine conversationalist. All in all, I’d rather be back at the castle, though.

  The conversion of the undergroun
d space on Pollepel Island had gone swiftly, taking less than a week to change from an empty shell to reasonable comfort. Ruby Achera’s Mist Elf friends would continue improving the site, but it was already a functional base of operations. They’d chosen to call it “The Castle” in reference to Bannerman’s Castle, the decrepit structure that was the island’s most notable feature.

  Bryant shuffled the cards, pulling the cuffs of his dress shirt back as he did. He’d worn a suit to visit his old friend, more for Finley’s comfort than his since the senator would probably be a little nonplussed to see him in full combat gear again. Besides, this visit was one of the regularly scheduled meetings, not an emergency request, so he preferred to keep things casual.

  Finley rose from his seat with a groan and nodded. “Yeah, I think we’re good. Now, where the hell did I put that remote?” He wandered out of the dining room into the connected living room.

  Bryant returned the cards to their wooden storage case, smiling a little at the fact that the back of each was personalized with the senator’s initials, as was the box. Probably a gift from a lobbyist. Finley’s voice came from the other room. “It’s off.”

  Bryant stood and finished the ice melt in his whiskey. “All right. Thanks, my friend. I’ll see you soon.” He waved and muttered the appropriate incantation, reaching for his magic to open a portal back to the castle. When the magical throughway failed to materialize, he chuckled and called, “Aaron, did you hit the wrong button?”

  Breaking glass and shouts, one of them a screech of alarm from his host, provided a most unexpected answer to his question.

  Chapter Two

  As the noise of the home invasion sounded all around, Bryant ran to the living room to help his host. As soon as the chamber came into view, it was obvious he had no chance of success. Finley was already on the floor with a weapon trained on him and a figure kneeling on his back. Two more raised shotguns toward Bryant, and he took in the situation in an instant. Black uniforms for deniability. Black backpacks, familiar to him and his team, containing anti-magic emitters. Which explains why I can’t portal and severely limits my options.

  A gun hung suddenly heavy in his shoulder holster, loaded with anti-magic bullets, but shooting any of the invaders would risk crossing the line and killing them. In this chaos, he didn’t trust he could shoot to wound. Too much happening, too many people in motion.

  For a moment, he thought Finley, who he considered a friend, might’ve betrayed him. The horrified look the senator offered from his prone position reassured him that the other man was every bit as shocked as Bryant was.

  His survival instincts finally kicked into gear. The sounds of breaking glass had all come from the first floor, so he dashed for the stairs. As he pounded up them, he cursed himself for not agreeing with Diana when she’d said he should always wear his full kit to visit Finley. Here’s where you pay the price for wanting some sense of normalcy in a world gone crazy, chucklehead.

  He rounded the corner and ran for the windows overlooking the house’s tiny front yard. If he’d been planning the assault, he would’ve assumed anyone fleeing would choose the back and reinforced that area. So, out the front it is. The building’s exterior was burned into his memory from countless hours of surveillance before he’d made initial contact after the attack on the vimana. So, when he crashed through the bedroom windows, he already knew his feet would land on the small roof that covered the doorway.

  The leap from there to the yard was about twelve feet. Bryant hit hard, rolled, and came up running, quickly accelerating to top speed. Maybe I can outrun the backpacks. The streetlights were all extinguished, the neighborhood shrouded in darkness. Sounds of breaking glass from behind signaled pursuit by those who’d been inside the house. Damn, damn, damn.

  He tested his magic continually, attempting to summon a small flame in his hand, but it resolutely failed to come. They’ve gotten smart, have fast people on the chase to be sure the backpacks stay close. Need to remember to warn Diana about that. Bryant came to a corner and turned right, trying to outguess his opponents by not moving directly away from their initial target. If he could get into the lane behind the houses, he’d sneak back toward the brownstone on the assumption it was the one place they wouldn’t look for him.

  Less than a minute later, that course of action was rendered impossible by a dark truck parked on the narrow road. He cursed and kept running past the alley. He was surprised at the unexpected lack of gunfire. It seemed like those pursuing him had as much interest in keeping their battle quiet as he did. Or they’ve got something else in mind.

  The thought had barely completed before a drone whipped out of nowhere and ejected a series of canisters in his path. He accelerated reflexively, finding speed he didn’t know he had and dove over them. They exploded right behind him, at least one sizzling with electricity that caught his lower leg and numbed it, sending a wave of pain up to his head. He stumbled, fell, and crawled away from the gas cloud created by another.

  Bryant forced himself up and grabbed the back of his belt. Anyone noticing that part of his wardrobe would likely be surprised by the engraved discs that adorned it. It had been necessary to explain them away once or twice. He’d claimed he needed a bit of style in his government uniform, which had done the trick. However, the flattish circles were more than they appeared to be.

  He grabbed one of the stun discs and palmed it, pressing on the appropriate spot to prime it. When the drone came in for a second pass, he hurled his projectile at it. The built-in accelerometer armed the disc as it flew, and the device activated when it reached an effective distance from the drone. It detonated in a wreath of technological lightning that encompassed his target. The craft angled into a deep dive and slammed into the ground a dozen feet away.

  Bryant lurched back into motion, his leg now tingling painfully rather than completely numb, and grabbed another of the discs. He still limped, and his breath was coming harder than he’d like, but he doggedly kept moving. A commercial area lay only a couple of blocks ahead, and it would give him options if he could reach it. His comm continued to feed him static, the jamming that had activated when the invaders hit the house still active. Resourceful bastards.

  He pulled out his phone on the run and hit the buttons to summon an autonomous car to one of those businesses. If he could make it there ahead of his pursuers, he should be able to use the vehicle to escape. As soon as he escaped the range of the backpacks, he’d portal to safety. Another drone swooped in suddenly, and he veered to the left to avoid it, cursing as it redirected him from his planned path with a familiar scattering of canisters.

  You told them right where you were with the phone, dumb ass. He considered throwing it away but shoved it back in his pocket. Despite his initial self-accusation, he realized they’d almost certainly already known where he was since they likely had aerial surveillance on him. His use of the device probably wasn’t what had allowed the drone to target him.

  He reached an intersection, dropped the disc, and cut back toward the residential neighborhood, hoping to reach an alley and break into a house to hide. The munition exploded in a shower of glittering particles and smoke, hiding him momentarily from his pursuers’ vision and sensors. Hopefully.