Rebellion Battle And Truce (In Her Paranormal Majesty’s Secret Service Book 2) Read online

  Rebellion, Battle and Truce

  In Her Paranormal Majesty’s Secret Service™ Book Two

  Michael Anderle

  Rebellion, Battle & Truce Team

  Thanks to the Beta Readers

  James Caplan, Larry Omans, John Ashmore, Kelly O’Donnell, Mary Morris

  Thanks to the JIT Readers

  Micky Cocker

  Dave Hicks

  Debi Sateren

  Jackey Hankard-Brodie

  Jeff Goode

  Larry Omans

  Diane L. Smith

  Deb Mader

  Dorothy Lloyd

  Paul Westman

  Jeff Eaton

  If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!

  Editor

  The Skyhunter Editing Team

  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 © 2020 by Michael Anderle

  Cover by Mihaela Voicu http://www.mihaelavoicu.com/

  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

  First US Edition, February 2020

  ebook ISBN: 978-1-64202-728-0

  Print ISBN: 978-1-64202-729-7

  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

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Author Notes Michael Anderle

  Books By Michael Anderle

  Connect with The Author

  Genevieve King’s UK to US Travel Guide

  An insight into how the Americans butcher the queen’s English

  UK (Correct) — US (Wrong)

  Aluminium (ah-luh-min-ee-um) — Aluminum (ah-loo-min-uhm…WHAT?)

  American Football — Football

  Bathroom / Toilet / Loo — Restroom

  Biscuit — Cookie

  Bonnet (Car) — Hood

  Broadsheet — Newspaper

  Car Park — Parking Lot

  Chips — French Fries

  Crisps — Potato Chips

  Dual carriageway — Highway, freeway

  Dummy — Pacifier

  Duvet — Blanket (yes there are duvets, but not in this story)

  Extension lead — Extension cord

  Flat — Apartment

  Football — Soccer

  Garden — Yard

  Holiday — Vacation

  Ice lolly — Popsicle

  Jumper — Sweater

  Knickers — Panties

  Lift — Elevator

  Lorry — Truck

  Mad — Insane / Crazy

  Motorway — Highway

  Mummy — Mommy

  Nappy — Diaper

  Number Plate — License Plate

  Oregano (or-i-gah-no) — Oregano (or-eh-ga-no…I mean, come on!)

  Pants — Underwear

  Pavement — Sidewalk

  Peckish — Hungry

  Police / Bobbies / Pigs / Boys in Blue — Cops / Police

  Potato (poh-tah-to) — Potato (pah-tay-to)

  Rubbish — Trash

  Shop — Store

  Sofa — Couch

  Sweets — Candy

  Torch — Flashlight

  Tomato (toh-mah-to) — Tomato (tah-may-to)

  Trainers — Sneakers

  Trollied — Drunk/plastered

  Trousers — Pants

  Tube — Subway

  Waistcoat — Vest

  Wardrobe — Closet

  Windscreen — Windshield

  Chapter One

  Route 295, New Jersey, USA

  The 2011 Ford Crown Victoria cruised on down Route 295.

  Rookie Special Agent Jack Hansen stared out of the rolled-down window of the passenger side of the car as flashes of green and orange blurred past. Although Fall was in the air, the sun gave off a steady heat, and there was calm all around.

  He turned to the driver’s seat where his partner, Special Agent Clive Bannon, sat with his steely gaze fixed on the road.

  Clive was exactly what Jack imagined when he had pictured an agent. An older man with wrinkles set deep into the grooves of his face. Tanned, leathery skin and a scratchy layer of stubble. His hair was on the final steps of turning gray, drawing attention to the fact that he had been through the wars and knew what he was doing when it came to getting the job done. These days, he was considerably closer to retirement than he was to any other part of his career.

  Jack knew that that was all in appearance only.

  Neither of them really knew what purpose the SIA was supposed to serve beyond investigating incidents that would have been laughed off a year or so earlier. Things had changed considerably in the last year. Even more so since the Times Square incident, which was why they were driving far away from home in order to investigate the report. Jack had wondered if the supernatural existed, but never truly believed in it until his transfer to the agency.

  Clive silently signaled his turning and made his way through Haddon Heights and onto Route 30. The radio clipped to the dashboard calle
d out instructions for one of their operatives in a tinny voice, which they ignored. They were too far away from Washington at this point to consider assisting.

  Besides, they were on a top-secret mission. One of the first of its kind to leave DC. Even if a thousand jobs arose, they’d stay focused on the assignment at hand.

  Jack let his head fall back against the headrest and let out a long breath. They had been silent for the better part of an hour, and he had learned pretty quickly that Clive hated music in the car. Said it dulled his senses.

  Maybe age will do that to you, too.

  “Something the matter?” Clive asked, breaking the silence at Jack’s exhalation.

  Jack considered the question. He supposed that everything was the matter after the things he’d been shown during his recruitment briefing. Ever since the lab geeks had taken them into the clean white rooms and showed them a whole new world, everything had changed. His entire understanding of what was real and what wasn’t had been flipped upside down, and there was no way of going back.

  Jack thought about telling Clive this. Thought about bringing up the impossible sights they’d seen. Thought of telling him that, at age thirty-four, he’d expected himself to find a steady girl by now. That he’d expected to graduate from the Academy and be rolling around the streets and pulling in the bad guys as a local cop until retirement came around. That being headhunted by the government and getting recruited into a top-secret division of the US Government hadn’t been high on his agenda.

  The SIA had needed fresh meat after the Times Square Incident exposed the spectral world. People who had excelled in the mortal realm and were able to adapt their training in order to understand and operate in this new world with success. To be biased by training was something Jack had learned may or may not lead to him getting killed somewhere along the way.

  Sure…If they can even kill us.

  Instead of answering with the truth, Jack merely shook his head as he turned back to the window and muttered a soft, “No. Nothing’s the matter.”

  “Good,” Clive replied, his lips barely moving. “Good.”

  The Crown Victoria was near enough silent. Soon the little town of Haddon Heights was lost to trees, and the first signs of the forest unfolded before them.

  The conifers and pines grew thickly around them, blocking out the setting sun. The oranges were thrown into dazzling embers of light above the canopy. Small wisps of white clouds floated lazily among a pink canvas above.

  They skirted the edge of the forest, following the long road ahead. The roads were virtually empty on their side, with the only traffic they saw leading away from the forest. A gentle trickle of tourists who had come, seen, and conquered the sights of the park.

  Soon enough, the small town came into sight. Night fell in a sheet of black, and the sodium arcs illuminated the sleepy place.

  Clive navigated the streets as if he’d been here before, expertly taking the correct turnings until they parked outside a restaurant. Jack had once asked how he was so good with directions, and Clive had replied with a simple shrug, followed by a grunted, “I study.”

  They ate a modest meal of spaghetti and meatballs, served at the locally famous Joe Italiano’s. They drank their fill of black coffee and water and eventually threw a forty percent tip onto the table for the young waitress, who had been ogling Jack all night.

  “You could have her, you know,” Clive told him as the chill night air blew on their faces. “Fish in a barrel.”

  “I prefer the chase,” Jack replied. “More fun that way. Gives me the open ocean.”

  “See how that’s served you so far?” Clive chuckled, the effects of forty years of smoking decorating the sound. “When this is all over, I’ll make myself scarce if you want to get your stick wet. God knows I’d do the same in your shoes if I were ten years younger.”

  “I’m twenty years younger than you.”

  Clive just looked at him.

  While Jack climbed back into the Crown Victoria, Clive popped the trunk and checked that the contents were still inside. Satisfied, he climbed in beside Jack, started the engine, and slowly exited the village. The next road would take them straight into the forest. For twenty-five minutes or so, it would be nothing but them and nature.

  And whatever else lies out there.

  Jack tapped his fingers against his thighs. The silver moon shone down on them, a large crescent in the sky.

  Clive smirked. “Nervous?”

  “Yeah,” Jack replied firmly. “You aren’t?”

  Clive shook his head. “A job’s a job.”

  Jack gave a derisive snort. “Maybe you should be.”

  “Listen, kid. I’ve been in this business for a long time. Longer than you’ve been alive. I’ve seen it all, and then some. There’s no fucker in Washington who’s going to startle me into being scared or nervous on a mission. A job’s a job. We do what we came to do, we leave. Simple as that.”

  “This isn’t just a job,” Jack replied. “Don’t play this off like this is just another day at the office. You saw what they showed us. You read the files. This is nothing like we’ve encountered before.” Jack gave another snort. “Spectral Intelligence Agency… Like that is going to catch on.”

  “You really bought all that?” Clive asked incredulously.

  Jack raised an eyebrow. After several hours in the car with Clive, now was the time he was telling Jack he doubted the authenticity of their mission. “You don’t?”

  “Holograms.” Clive laughed. “Technology has come pretty far these days.” He turned to Jack, whose face did not reflect his sentiment. “Oh, come on. Think how ridiculous that all was. ‘Put on these goggles; now you can see ghosts.’ It’s all just VR. Training for the next chapter.”

  Jack hadn’t considered that before. “I suppose…”

  “I know,” Clive stated. He drew out a pack of cigarettes, shook the box until one white stick slid out, and clamped it between his teeth. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his lighter, doing his best to maintain his view of the road while he fought with the zippo to light it. He rolled down the window and exhaled smoke into the forest.

  “Look,” he told Jack, the cigarette bouncing as he spoke. “Back in ’89, they did the same thing. Brought a bunch of us rookies out into the field under pretense in order to assess our mettle. Two dozen were ‘specially selected’ for training, and only three made it through. You know what happened to those three?”

  Jack shook his head. “No.”

  “They hit the big leagues. Got accepted straight into an acceleration program, and now they’re the ones giving us orders on where to go and what we’re supposed to do.”

  “You mean…”

  “Yep,” Clive confirmed. He pushed his head back against the headrest. “If only I had tried a little harder back then, I could’ve been in a swanky office instead of wasting away my final years cruising out here with a damn rookie.”

  “I’m not a rookie,” Jack protested.

  “Are you a pro?”

  Jack thought of responding but decided against it. Clive wasn’t one to back down from an argument, and now wasn’t the time to enter one.

  “Trust me, kid. All that spectral world shit, it’s exactly that. AR, or VR bullshit. You watch. The minute we arrive at this village, it’s going to be all laser guns and…and…”

  Clive’s words trailed away as a glimmer of something pale and white shot out of the forest beside them. It was quick, galloping between the trees and carving its way deeper into the forest.

  The sight only lasted a few moments, but it was enough to make both of their jaws drop.

  “Was that…” Jack asked.

  Clive answered by pushing his foot harder on the gas and propelling them forward. His knuckles had gone white, gripping the steering wheel, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “Clive?” Jack asked softly.

  Clive slowly shook his head. “Let’s get this shit over with.”

  Smal
l, crooked signs indicated the way to the Batsto Village, a quaint hamlet set deep into the heart of the forest. Clive switched off the headlights and parked the Crown Victoria around half a kilometer away from the village in a small recess off the road.

  Jack took a deep breath as he climbed out of the car and met Clive at the trunk. He opened it up and saw the array of new technology the lab rats had provided them both. Gleaming silver equipment was tucked into the dark black cases Clive selected.

  Clive grabbed the goggles and hooked them around his neck. He then grabbed a retro-looking revolver that reminded Jack of the types the cowboys held in Western flicks.

  Clive examined the revolver. “Six in the chamber. Not the best, but given the resources being poured into this thing, I guess it’s the best they’ve got.”

  “Will six be enough?” Jack frowned, then corrected his expression when Clive’s eyes met his.