Callum was thrown by his other allies taking care of Janry while he’d been busy putting out fires, but in the end that was what alliances were for. If he’d been by himself, things would not have turned out so well. As it was, the outcome was mostly positive — at least for the Earth Alliance. Janry was rather less fortunate.

One of Janry’s allies was dead, and two others had turned on him — Callum didn’t really get it, but the cadet Houses breaking with Janry was apparently a close equivalent to a country declaring independence. Nearly unprecedented, but under the circumstances it would probably stick. In addition, most of the mages and fae sent on the actual attacks were dead, absolutely severing Janry from any aligned forces.

The Earth Alliance had stopped the vast majority of civilian casualties, but the veil of secrecy had been well and truly broken. Callum didn’t know how that affected Chester’s plans, and since it had only been a few hours after the mad scramble, there hadn’t been time for it to really set in for anyone.

Callum would have almost preferred to just end Janry right then and there, when Wizzy had him dead to rights and his guilt was obvious. Cooler heads prevailed, however, and he waited with everyone else for a proper reckoning. Not that he would have hesitated a moment if the rest of the archmages tried to pardon Janry, but they knew better than that.

“I believe we have a quorum,” said Archmage Montgomery, who was apparently even more important than he had seemed. Once again Callum was attending an event in person, but not one he’d ever expected. He contented himself to stay behind Taisen and Hargrave, next to Gayle and Felicia’s mage companion Ray, all of them standing in House Harper’s courtyard.

It wasn’t exactly a trial. That would imply some sort of legal proceeding, some sort of charges. Instead it was simply most of the archmages coming together and agreeing that Janry had gone too far. It was easy to forget that most of these men and women came from an age where public executions were entertainment — and the only punishment short of death was exile.

Janry was still under Wizzy’s control; the Archmage of Blood lounging in the corner, showing no apparent strain at keeping Janry upright, unmoving, and awaiting his fate. Montgomery stood next to him, dressed in suit and tie, looking for all the world like a young accountant rather than someone about to pronounce death. The other archmages were similarly formal, but lacked the pomp and circumstance of the summit.

“For anyone who doesn’t know, Archmage Janry hired a number of fae and instructed a number of mages to essentially destroy as much of Earth’s mundane infrastructure as possible,” Montgomery said. Callum could quibble with the framing, but the details didn’t matter too much. “He broke our secrecy with Earth in the worst possible way and, worse, betrayed his House and all the cadet Houses that depended on him.

“Does anyone speak in his defense?” Montgomery surveyed the crowd. There was silence. He turned to Janry. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Wizzy waggled a negligent finger, and the control slipped enough for Janry to glare at Montgomery.

“Cowards,” he snarled. “History will remember you as the quislings that betrayed your—”

That was as far as he got before Wizzy cut him off. Montgomery was unbothered by the accusations, merely shaking his head theatrically. There was probably some sort of inter-mage politics going on, but it didn’t involve Callum. Only Janry mattered.

“I think the best solution would be to simply exile Janry to a useless portal world. It was not an option we had before but, bereft of a homebond, he could not return.” Montgomery offered a half-bow in Callum’s direction.

“Certainly,” Callum said, though he would have preferred to just shoot Janry and be done with it. Though there was no need to put Janry in a nice and comfortable portal world like his own. In fact, he knew exactly which one he wanted. “Just give me one moment.” He lowered his voice, muttering an aside to Lucy, who was listening in. “Lucy? Could you check the forbidden list and give me the coordinates on Hate Mountain?”

“Sure thing,” Lucy said, catching his intention, and after a minute read off the coordinates and the number of the nearest drone. He was aware of the attention focused on him while he maneuvered the drone to the appropriate area, letting Lucy fly it the last few hundred feet so it was on target, then looked up at Montgomery again.

“Ready.”

Montgomery held up a ring, Janry’s homebond, and then put it in his front pocket.

“We will discuss the disposition of House Janry at a later time, but the House as a whole does not seem to be implicated. I’ll keep this to be returned to the House coffers.” He nodded to Callum. “If you please, Mister Wells.”

Callum reached out, his vis thread flowing through portals to the moon and back, to a specific place in the midwestern United States, and tore open a small portal between realities. Through that small portal he ran another thread, and created an opening between Faerie and the Mountain Made of Hate. Everyone save Wizzy took a step back at the blast of emotion radiating from the portal.

Before anyone could say anything, Wizzy flipped his hand, hurling Janry with his fancy clothes through the portal. Callum snapped it shut. Once again he hosed down the dimensional link over in the US with anti-mana, since he did not want the Mountain Made of Hate to have even a fragment of a chance of breaking through into the real world.

He didn’t care what it did to Janry.

“What was that?” Felicia’s voice floated past his ear, and he glanced back at the fae princess. Her equipment had become even more fanciful and ornate, but it didn’t look at all delicate. If anything, the battle dress had an aura of impregnability about it, as if it could deflect tank shells.

“The reason why I have to be careful when opening new portal worlds,” he told her. “Not everything out there is as pleasant as Faerie.”

“My homeland has its own thorns,” she remarked. “But point taken.”

“We are done here,” Montgomery said, over the muttering that started to arise in the wake of the portal’s closure. “I’m sure we all agree that the matter is settled.” His last two words were fairly pointed, and Callum wasn’t certain whether he was sending a message to the Earth Alliance or the people who had agreed with Janry.

Some of the archmages flitted up into the air, headed back to their own Houses. Others grouped up in twos and threes, discussing things, while Wizzy sauntered over to the Earth Alliance area. Callum would have been quite happy to leave himself, but he was everyone’s ride so he had to be considerate.

“I’d have preferred a public execution,” Wizzy remarked. “But I think your demonstration was effective as well.” He narrowed his eyes at Callum, his shadow curling up over his shoulders. “You’re not opening up the hells, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” Callum assured him. “Nobody knows how to get there but me, and I’m making sure to eradicate the connection with prejudice.”

“Excellent,” Wizzy clapped him on the shoulder. He wasn’t the only one who wanted to be certain that any link to such a place was properly severed. Montgomery himself didn’t come over, but a few of the other archmages that Callum had seen in Montgomery’s orbit approached with essentially the same concern. Nobody wanted to deal with monstrosities like the Mountain Made of Hate.

They weren’t intending to stay for long. The gathering was impromptu to begin with, and Chester was still dealing with world leaders. Yet before Callum had a chance to make a portal back he saw a man in ordinary clothes, a button-down shirt and slacks, following a cat, both of them walking straight toward him. Something about the man bothered him, but it took a moment for Callum to realize exactly what it was.

Callum couldn’t sense him.

By his spatial perceptions, there was no one there. He could see the person, but there wasn’t even the slightest disturbance in the mana field. The grass bent under the man’s feet, and he seemed real enough, but something about him made Callum’s hair stand on end.

“Ah, you are The Ghost?” He asked, the cat sitting down next to his feet and washing its paw.

“I am,” Callum said cautiously, ready to teleport away. Hargrave and Taisen were nearby and didn’t seem concerned, but they didn’t have Callum’s senses.

“I appreciate you helping out Queen Felicity,” the man said, offering a hand. Callum took it, still disturbed by his inability to sense the man — but the hand was real enough, the handshake firm. “Good luck with your Earth troubles. Just don’t open any more portals like that here, eh?”

“Thank you,” Callum said, feeling somewhat at a loss. “I don’t intend to.” He wasn’t sure what else to say, but Felicia rushed over, saying something in a rapid patter he couldn’t understand at all. The man laughed and turned to her, replying in the same language, something that sounded a little like Gaelic. Then she hugged him, and turned to beckon Ray over.

“I wonder who that is,” Callum muttered, taking a step back, glad to leave the weird fae to people with more experience.

“No idea,” Lucy said into his earpiece. “Shows up strange on the feed. Like, he’s in higher fidelity than everything else, and that’s just bizarre.”

“Fae are strange,” Callum agreed. The odd man wandered off after a brief conversation with Ray, the black cat trotting along next to him. Felicia stepped up to Callum, while Ray trailed in her wake, looking dazed.

“Ready to go,” she said, glancing at the other archmages who had come.

“Sure,” he said, reaching out to make a portal for them. While Felicia did have her own Ways transport, it didn’t lead directly to House Hargrave. Not yet. “Who was that, by the way?” Felicia blinked at him, then laughed musically, the grass dancing to the sound of her voice.

“That was my father,” she said, smiling. “Oberon. King of Faerie.”

“Oh,” Callum managed, feeling as if someone had walked over his grave.

“Holy crap,” Lucy said.

“I think he likes you,” Felicia added. “So long as you stay over on Earth, anyway.”

“That’s the plan,” Callum said fervently.

“We’d better go,” Hargrave butted in, either being more sanguine about the ruler of Faerie crashing the party or not actually knowing about it. Considering that nobody had really seemed to pay attention to Oberon, Callum guessed it was the latter. If Oberon could fool Callum’s magical senses, then he could fool everyone else’s.

“Right,” Callum said, and opened the portal to House Hargrave. “Good luck.”

Everyone went through, and Callum took one last glance around to see if he could see Oberon before teleporting himself home. Once he was in his own private portal world he relaxed somewhat, and opened a portal for Lucy from the war room so she didn’t have to walk. Alex was happily snacking on fruit, completely unaware of the drama of the past few hours.

“Thanks, dear,” Lucy said, stepping through and easing herself onto the couch. “How long before they make the announcement?”

“Another couple hours,” Callum said, putting his arm around her. “I’ll be playing taxi a little bit, but for the most part I’m out of it. Honestly, I don’t know if there’s going to be total chaos or everyone is just going to collectively shrug and go on with their lives.”

“Probably both,” Lucy said. “Why don’t we invite the Connors over? Their daughter is only a little younger than Alex.”

“Sounds great,” Callum said, though he still felt he barely knew the people he’d rescued years ago. They were definitely Lucy’s friends, but it would be great for Alex to meet someone who wasn’t a mage or shifter as well.

Especially since the two worlds were about to finally meet.

***

Chester stood on a stage in full war-form, wearing a suit and tie fitted to his stature. He had been working with his symbiote to adjust the details of his shifted state, making him look slightly less bestial. Instead he was carefully groomed to appear noble, elegant, civilized, courageous, and all the other things people attributed to wolves — even if he wasn’t a wolf. Appearances mattered, and first impressions mattered most of all.

Which was why Felicia, in her fantastical battle-dress, was being attended by pixies. There were none of the darker fae around for this, and while Felicia still looked dangerous, it was more along the lines of being a regal queen than a monster or thug. Taking up half the stage on the opposite side from Felicia, Shahey was present as a full winged dragon. Unlike his usual personas, the massive form was gold-scaled and clad in sleek black cybernetic barding, making him look more like a civilized person than a beast.

House Hargrave and House Taisen represented those mages still based in Earth proper. Hargrave had his core family seated in chairs, while Taisen had a small squad with both men and women. The Hargraves all were dressed formally, in a fashion not quite like anything on Earth, while Taisen and his people were all in pseudo-military uniforms, making their disposition clear.

He rather wished he could have had The Ghost there, considering how important Wells had been to the entire architecture of events that had brought the supernatural world to this point. But he hadn’t even asked, for The Ghost was The Ghost and to serve as a proper bogeyman he should be invisible, unattainable, and unknown.

Of course there weren’t just supernaturals around, as that would have defeated the point. World leaders and captains of industry, as well as no few celebrities, had been invited and sat on riser platforms flanking the stage, catered to with fae delicacies. The press pool had representatives from major networks, as well as the biggest streamers he could find.

The venue was not on Earth, nor was it Faerie or the Deep Wilds. The political implications of holding it in someone’s territory were too tangled, and the entire point was to show that supernaturals were not of Earth. Instead, they were using one of Wells’ new portal worlds, something fantastical enough to be obviously not Earth.

There were three suns and four moons in the sky. The suns were visibly red, blue, and green, the moons were pastel, and one even had rings. In the distance, waterfalls cascaded up inverted mountains, dripping into shining spheres that floated lazily through the clouds, occasionally bursting and dumping their contents onto the landscape below. It was, frankly, unlivable; the entire landscape was unstable and the day was permanent, but it made for a perfect backdrop to demonstrate the reality of magic.

“Everything’s ready,” Lisa murmured from where she was standing at the back of the stage. One of the advantages of shifter senses was that he could listen in on all the communication traffic without needing an earpiece. Chester acknowledged that through the pack bond and took a few steps forward to the podium. The microphone there was of dragon make, a sleek chrome thing set into the surface of the podium, and there were enchantments around the speakers to project them evenly over the entire gathering.

“People of Earth,” Chester said, not showing how amused he was to be using that particular phrase. “My name is Chester, and I am speaking to you on behalf of the Earth Alliance of Supernaturals. I am the leader of the Midwest Shifters, and I am sure you can guess what branch of supernatural I represent.” He gestured to himself, his wolf-man form, and smiled at the chuckles from the press pool.

“I can assure you this is not a joke, not a stunt. Magic is very real, though this is a relatively recent phenomenon.” He didn’t specify exactly how recent. There was inevitably going to be a balance of truth and spin, though it would do nobody any good to tell outright lies. “It has been a secret, but the time for that secrecy is over.” Chester paused to look around at the cameras and phones, his ears flicking as he heard the muttered conversations between various people in the audience. Nobody disbelieved him, not after seeing things with their own eyes, but many of them were wondering exactly what the catch was. Chester didn’t blame them.

“Some of you are no doubt aware of the disturbances of the past few hours. I am sure that many have speculated that it was a result of a terrorist organization, and on that you would be right. But it was not a terrorist organization of Earth. There are bad actors in every country, and ours are no exception. A small group of zealots tried to do as much damage as they could, to prevent us from establishing peaceful relations.” Chester shook his head in disapproval.

“They failed, and now they are no longer a threat.” He let his voice harden for the last half of the sentence. “That leaves us free to engage in proper diplomacy without worrying about those who might try to sabotage the process.” Some of the major news networks were trying to shout questions, but Felicia had taken care of that. Those on the stage had total control of who could be heard, and how.

“Some of you may be wondering how it is that you’re hearing me in your native tongue. Take it as a demonstration of magic, in addition to what you see around me.” Chester gestured at the stage. “To my right is Queen Felicity Blackblood, ruler of Earth’s fae. She has generously provided the translation spell that is rendering my words into the language of your choice. The venue itself has been provided by a certain individual who has been working tirelessly to keep people safe.” He waved his hand around at the absurd landscape. Let people take that as they would.

“Very little will be changing with this announcement. Very few of us actually dwell on Earth, and those that do are ordinary citizens. That will not change. Instead, we will be opening our borders. Trade, knowledge, and even immigration — because you certainly have as much to offer us as we have to offer you.” Chester smiled politely at the cameras, something that looked more rakish than hostile – he had practiced it in the mirror – and then half-turned to look at Felicia.

“And now I will let Queen Felicity introduce herself. After all, I only represent myself in this alliance, it’s better that you hear from each of the members on their own terms.” He stepped away and Felicia glided to the microphone to begin her own speech. Chester fell back to stand with Lisa, who reached out to take his hand. The cameras caught it, of course, but that was by design. All of it was theatre, though he didn’t need theatre to hold hands.

Chester listened to Felicia’s part, which was slanted to emphasize the separate nature of the fae. There was no in-depth explanation, not the sort of minutiae that would be of interest to lawmakers and businessmen, but something aimed more at the average citizen. Mostly she showed a face that was close to the lighter tales of fae, with just a hint of the underlying steel so people didn’t think she was a pushover. Unlike with Chester’s speech, she did allow one question through the veil of silence, right at the very end.

“What happened with the missile in India? How did you do that?”

“I asked it to return,” Felicia said, calm and serene, and then turned the stage over to Shahey.

The advent of a multi-ton cybernetic dragon talking to the press caused more of a stir than a shifter or a fae queen did, even taking into account the single question she’d allowed. Chester didn’t mind; Shahey’s form was rather dramatic. Unlike himself and Felicia, Shahey didn’t have much to say. Dragons preferred to play their cards close to their vest, and even if Shahey and his fellows intended to take a more active role, they weren’t like the other races. There just weren’t many dragons.

The mages were last, with good reason. Telling the rest of humanity that they could learn magic, or at least their great-grandchildren could, given proper care, would probably make it difficult to focus on anything else. Hargrave looked grandfatherly enough to radiate authority, and Taisen’s sharp dress and sharper demeanor meant people would take him seriously when he discussed the dangers of portal worlds.

When all the official speeches were over, Hargrave’s people sunk the stage back into the ground with a judicious application of earth magic, and sound exploded as people could finally ask questions. Chester let his younger and more patient pack members mingle, but he kept himself separate, slipping into the risers where the VIPs were. Felicia did the same, but Shahey stood where he was, watching with amusement. For some reason people were less interested in mobbing a cyber-dragon the size of a schoolbus.

“I’ve still got to pinch myself to make sure this is real.” The President of the United States took a sip of the faintly glowing fae drink in the fluted glass he was carrying. The Secret Service men near him looked acutely uncomfortable, and Chester didn’t blame them. The security concerns had been the main sticking point for most of the people in attendance, but it turned out that when push came to shove, none of the leaders were going to pass up the opportunity to attend.

“I will admit we’re playing some of it up,” Chester said, inclining his head to the president. “Most of the time things are fairly normal. Most of what I do is just paperwork, which I’m sure you understand.”

“Oh, do I,” he chuckled, though Chester could still smell the anxiety that underlay the casual conversation. “You have no idea how much paperwork that a dozen new countries is going to cause. In fact, you all have, shall we say, rearranged all the normal political considerations. There’s just supernaturals now.”

“I suspect that won’t last long,” Lisa said, offering the president a reassuring smile, since she had remained in human form. “Once it turns out that not much actually changes except for a few new luxuries, most people will go back to normal.”

“Maybe. I tell you what, it’s going to wreak havoc with the election cycle,” the president said, and Chester laughed.

“Just have to remind people we’re not the enemy,” Chester said. “This is all in aid of not having to fight. Nobody wins if it comes to that.”

“I have to admit, using magic to prevent sabotage to the nuclear arsenals does rather endear you to most people,” the president said, not mentioning that it was magic that had allowed that in the first place. “The one thing that does worry me is people wanting to leave to become mages or shifters or the like. Perhaps the grass is always greener, but hardly anyone would turn down nigh-immortality and physical or magical powers.”

“Absolutely,” Chester agreed. “But these things aren’t free. No supernatural is completely human, even mages, and anyone who wants to live by fae or shifter rules is going to find that their power comes with an awful lot of strings attached. Mages take generations to breed, and even then it doesn’t guarantee anything.”

“And dragons?” The President glanced down at where Shahey was talking to one particularly brave reporter.

“Dragons are dragons. Bother them at your peril,” Chester said simply.

“Ha! Good to know the stories are right about that, at least.”

“Most of the stories and legends predate us,” Chester told him. Most of the world leaders had been briefed, but the Earth Alliance hadn’t put together full histories or the like. It wasn’t their place. “We’re still not entirely certain how the portal worlds work, and it might be those stories that influenced the way the magic manifests.”

“Interesting.” The president cocked his head, as someone muttered into his earpiece and Chester pretended he couldn’t hear the question. The aides and security that the president had brought were spread out around the venue, but clearly someone was paying attention to their conversation. “It occurs to me there’s a major sort of legend missing.”

“Vampires, yes,” Chester admitted. “They did exist, and there is a portal world where they live. Certain of us objected to the fact that vampires feed on people, so they were removed from Earth.”

“Now that sounds like a threat,” the president said. “You can remove entire races from Earth?”

“If we closed all the portal worlds, Earth would go on as usual,” Lisa said softly. “You wouldn’t lose anything. It’s the supernaturals who are strangers here.”

“As you say,” the president replied, not quite accepting it. “I am quite surprised that you could push an entire species off Earth without anyone noticing.”

“We didn’t,” Chester said. “That worldwide suicide cult business a few years back — that was the vampires.”

“I see.” The president looked and smelled surprised, but that just went to show he hadn’t actually read the full briefing. The vampires had been very thoroughly blamed for that, perhaps more than they should have been, but it was not too difficult to paint monsters as monsters. “Taking care of something that large would have required a lot of personnel,” he hinted, listening to whoever was on the earpiece.

“Fewer than you’d think,” Chester said with a laugh. “The Ghost is quite the force multiplier.”

“Who exactly is this Ghost? I’ve heard the name several times and it hasn’t been made all that clear who, or what, that is.” Some of the other high-profile guests who had been standing around listening to the conversation all looked quite interested in that answer — especially with Felicia’s spell rendering everyone temporarily omnilingual.

“He is someone who values his privacy,” Chester demurred. “I can tell you this, however: his only interest is ensuring that there’s no conflict between humans and supernaturals. He is entirely independent and, as you can imagine, somewhat terrifying. Not many people can provide entirely new portal worlds, after all.”

“Sounds like quite the bogeyman,” the Russian prime minister said.

“Yes, indeed,” Chester agreed.