Ground Zero

People in town used to refer to the Septimus Order as “the Lodge” back then—still did, most likely—because to them that building by the lake was all they knew of the Order. They’d had no idea how ancient it was and how long its reach.

“I just can’t imagine Eddie joining.”

“You don’t join the Order,” Jack said, rising and heading for his tiny kitchen. “The Order joins you. You have to be asked.”

“Why would they ask Eddie? And why would he join?”

“Maybe he was flattered,” he called from the kitchen.

“He said it was good for business, for networking.”

“Well, all sorts of influential people belong, although I can’t see them all knowing about Opus Omega, and especially not nine/eleven.”

“I know Eddie has no idea about Opus Omega.”

He stepped back into the room with another beer. “How?”

“Because he saw a page in the Compendium with the words big as day and he didn’t react. He was more interested in the animation beneath it.”

Jack shook his head. “I’ve seen those animations. Amazing. But anyway, I’m sure the Order has lots of levels of membership with the folks on the bottom like Eddie knowing nothing about the doings of the guys on top.” His smile was grim. “Pretty much like the whole world.”

“But in the Order’s case, top would be the High Council of the Seven. As for levels of membership, I’ll bet there’s seven. They’re really into sevens.”

Jack nodded. “I think the Otherness itself is into sevens—I mean, the way the number keeps popping up.”

“Well, it’s prime, and it’s versatile, and it’s manageable.”

She jumped at the sound of the door buzzer.

Jack frowned as he reached behind him. A pistol appeared as he stepped to the intercom and pressed a button.

“Yeah?”

“It’s us,” said a woman’s voice. And in the background a little-girl voice said, “Surprise!”

Jack did look surprised for an instant, then he smiled and pressed the door-release button.

“Come on up!”

He opened the closet near the front door and placed the pistol on a high shelf. Before the door closed again she thought she spotted something that looked like a dai katana leaning up there as well.

He turned to her. “Company.”

“I gathered that. Is it who I think it is?”

He nodded. “My ladies.”

My ladies . . . he said it as if they were royalty. From the look in his eyes they were . . .

Weezy looked down at herself. Jack’s woman—his lady—would be here in seconds and she was still dressed in the sweats she’d put on for her aborted workout. No time to change. This was awful.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know,” he said as he turned the central knob that withdrew the four bolts on the door and pulled it open.

Seconds later a gri

“Jack!”

“Hey, Vicks!”

As they hugged, a slim woman with blue eyes and short blond hair stepped through the door and planted a light kiss on Jack’s lips. She wore a white tank top and a short black skirt.

Oh, God, she’s beautiful.

Jack said, “Gia, Weezy. Weezy, Gia.”

The woman’s eyes locked with Weezy’s for an instant, then she smiled and stepped forward, extending her hand.

“Hi. Nice to meet you. Jack’s told me so much about you.”

Not too much, I hope, she thought. Like making a fool out of myself the other night.

“Good things, I hope. He’s told me about you too.”

Close up, she wasn’t really beautiful—that had been the initial gestalt impression—but she was very, very good looking. Next to her Weezy felt like a total frump.

“And this is Vicky,” Jack said, easing the child to the floor.

The child had her mother’s blue eyes but someone else’s dark hair. She wore it back in a single braid.

“Pleased to meet you.”

Good ma

As they shook hands, Weezy said, “My mother named me Louise, but you can call me Weezy.”

She giggled. “Like Lil Wayne?”

People usually referenced Louise from The Jeffersons, but . . . “Lil Wayne?”

“Rapper,” Jack said. “That’s his nickname.”

She looked at him. “You like rap?”

“Some. Mostly no. But now and then I get stuck spending time with folks who do.” To Gia, he said, “What’s the occasion?”

“Well, I heard Weezy was here so I figured we’d stop over and get acquainted.”

So that was it. Jack had been on the phone while she’d unpacked the few things she’d brought. He must have told her about his houseguest and she’d come for a firsthand look. Weezy could understand that. Completely.

And now that you’ve seen me, you know you—especially you—have nothing to worry about.

“Are you hungry?” Vicky said to Weezy.

She was starved but determined to hold back.

“Well, um—”

“I am. Wa

“She’s a stomach with feet,” Gia said. She hefted the pair of plastic grocery bags dangling from her left hand. “And since Jack never has anything to eat—”

“Just stocked in a brand-new, giant-economy-size box of Lucky Charms,” he said.

Vicky pumped her fist. “Yes!”

Gia said, “Ohhhh, no.”

Weezy could have told her about a study years ago that fed rats a diet of only breakfast cereal and how the ones on Lucky Charms did the best, but decided against it.

As Jack relieved Gia of the bags, she said, “There’s wine, crackers, and a couple of cheeses in there.”

“Come on in here and help me unpack,” Jack said to Vicky, “and we’ll check the fridge.”

“Okay!”

Weezy watched her run after him.

“I know he’s going to give her Lucky Charms in there,” Gia said softly, smiling, her eyes on the kitchen door. “I have to take a public stand against it to keep it verboten at home, but it’s Jack’s thing to sneak her whatever she wants. That’s why she loves coming here.”

“How long since she’s seen him?”

“A couple of days.”

“Really? I thought from the way she greeted him—”

“Day, week, month, she’s always that way with Jack.”

Weezy felt a lump of envy in her throat. Jack had a family . . .

Raising her voice, Gia turned back to Weezy. “Anyway, as far as edibles go—”

“I’ve got fairly recent leftover General Tso’s chicken,” Jack a

“It’s pronounced keen-wah,” she called back.

“Well, it’s spelled ‘qui

“As I was saying,” she continued to Weezy, barely missing a beat, “as far as eating goes, it’s BYO to Jack’s, unless you consider beer a food group.”

“Hops and malt,” he called. “Malt is a grain, and hops are a vegetable, which makes beer a two-fer.”

They’d obviously had this conversation before—many times. They were enviably comfortable with each other. She and Steve had shared something like that. They’d been close, but apparently not close enough to keep him from calling it quits on life.

These two had something more, something else ru

And could almost feel her heart break.