Mariel's Magic Pt. 02

This is a fantasy in which a magical girl is pitted against dark magical forces. She and her friends battle powerful magical beings with white magic.

***

Chapter 10. Department 47

Over the next year, the expanding family at the Ranch watched as Mariel's Friends grew to a steady following of seventy-five million worldwide, and it seemed that the magic in each video was getting through to the viewers. The most evident sign of its success was in the U.S. elections, where there was a tsunami of progressive candidate wins. As Mariel turned eight, she watched as these young, idealistic officeholders began to enact many new social programs, paid for by substantial increases in the taxation of the wealthy. This was a far different result than what had been expected at the start of the election year, when hardcore conservatives seemed destined to take over.

On election night, Mariel, Trista, and Hana, who were now known on the Ranch as the Doves, were sitting around the fireplace, happy with what they had accomplished but wary.

"It's strange, isn't it?" said Mariel. "The elections turned out so differently than everyone thought. All those new young progressives getting elected... they're calling it a wave."

Hana, however, thought about the battles to come. "Yes, a wave indeed. But the sea is fickle, and the shadow of a storm follows."

Trista nodded grimly. "And the High Master watches. We stopped him for a time, but he's going to be angry, and he's going to come for us again."

Mariel, her optimism alive despite their worries, said, "He's tried before, but we're strong, aren't we?"

Hana, with a sigh, nodded. "Strong, yes. But we have to stay vigilant. He's going to do something."

Trista, remembering her previous life in the world of dark magic, said, "Yes, we must be careful because the darkness is patient."

As the pundits scratched their heads, wondering how they could have been so wrong about the election, nobody thought to look at the influence of the social media of an eight-year-old child and her friends. Peggy, on air until late that night, guessed the truth. She knew of the magic emanating from the Ranch and had talked to Mariel about how viewers were being affected. She could not speak of the magic to others, but it influenced how she reported on the election night results.

"This doesn't make any sense. All our polling pointed to a conservative sweep this election cycle," said Jason Sloane, her on-air co-host. "The trends were all pointing in the opposite direction."

"Clearly, we missed something," said Peggy. "Some factor that wasn't accounted for in our analysis. Folks, it's clear that there's been a shift in the public. Something is happening. This election is not the end of this story."

***

The only ones that were really aware of the influence of Mariel and her friends were other magical beings. The High Master, who was a continuing threat, saw all his favored candidates fall. He kept trying to get Mariel off social media, but he did not have the power to attack the Family directly. He could act only through those he could influence, and the Family had always seen his attacks coming.

"This is outrageous! How is it that every candidate I supported lost?" roared the High Master at his assembled followers.

"It appears that the influence of the witches in Mendocino is stronger than we thought," replied an acolyte.

"I don't care about her influence!" screamed the High Master. "I care about control. We need to silence her, once and for all."

"But how, High Master? She's protected by powerful magic."

The High Master said, "We'll find a way. We always do. Keep searching for vulnerabilities. We will not let her white magic stop us."

***

In the quiet of the early morning, with the mist still clinging to the meadows surrounding the Ranch, Andy Forester stood watch. The silence was broken only by the soft tread of his boots on the dew-laden grass. Andy's wife had been healed of cancer by Hana and Mariel, and so he was one of several individuals who knew of the magic at the Ranch, though he could not speak of it to anyone. An ex-special forces colonel, he showed his gratitude by coming out of retirement and serving the Family as best he could by helping to keep them safe. He managed Ranch security, with two other security guards reporting to him, and he had just relieved the guard who stood watch from 1 a.m. to 7 a.m.

Mariel approached, her small figure emerging from the morning fog. "Andy," she said, "you're up early."

Andy turned, a small smile breaking through his otherwise stoic demeanor. "The day starts at first light in my line of work, Mariel. How are you holding up?"

Mariel shrugged, feeling resigned to her path in life. "We keep going, right? No matter what's out there."

Andy nodded, his gaze scanning the horizon. "That's the spirit. Your magic... it's brought a lot of good. But it's also drawn some unwanted attention."

Mariel looked up at him. "You mean the High Master?"

"Yes," Andy replied, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "But we're ready for anything. We've got the Ranch locked down tight. You and your family are safe here."

Mariel smiled, a small, grateful curve of her lips. "Thanks to you, Andy. I know you came out of retirement for us."

"No need to thank me, Mariel. This... it's my way of saying thanks. Keeping you safe, it's the least I can do."

***

In his tower, the High Master brooded over how to destroy the Family. He was furious about his most recent failure. "Betrayal!" he thundered, with a rage that shook the very foundations of the office building. "The light of a mere child is undoing our work of decades. Everyone we send against her fails, and then the ones she defeats join her and turn against us and...." He faltered, unable to comprehend Mariel's power.

"Betrayal!" His voice boomed again, an echo of thunder that reverberated against the cold, unyielding walls. "A child's light, a mere flicker, unravels our dark web." His voice trailed off, a mix of disbelief and venom, as he grappled with the reality of Mariel's growing influence. The darkness he had wrought, a cloak that once shrouded a despairing world, was being shredded.

Around him, the cabalists shifted uneasily, the air thick with the scent of fear. Each shadowy figure was afraid that the High Master's wrath would seek them out next, in retribution for their failures.

"The people, the fools that we have owned for so long," he continued, his voice a low growl, "awaken from our spell, their eyes opened to a world not bounded by our shadows. This shall not be."

"We underestimated the child, Master...."

"I underestimated nothing!" he screamed, and his rage sought out the unlucky speaker with a bolt of black flame, which silenced the voice forever.

"No more excuses! You will find a way to eliminate her and her friends! They have won battles, but the war is not over."

One of the cabalists, a brave shadow in the dim light, dared to speak. "Master, what if we raised a force against the Ranch? A storm of anger to sweep them away."

The High Master's laughter was a cold, bitter sound. "A mob?" he sneered; the idea was laughable in its futility. "They'll see. They always see. The witches would spot our dark intentions long before we could do anything."

He had considered raising some kind of mob to storm the Ranch and kill everyone there but knew that once again one of the witches would have a vision of it beforehand and would find a way to protect their precious sanctuary. It was impossible to hide the amount of dark energy necessary to incite a mob big enough to attack the place. And, if the mob failed, the notoriety of the attempt would make the child even better known and more influential.

Another cabalist, his voice a mere whisper in the dark, ventured, "But couldn't we join our powers together, in united rage, and break through their defenses?"

"No," said the High Master sadly. "The nature of our power is greed and division. We are lone hunters and would as likely kill each other as them. And should we fail in this, the victory would be complete."

Silence fell, the Master's gloom settled like a heavy cloak over the room and smothered any disagreement. The cabalists understood; the risk was too great, the price of failure too costly. The High Master, his gaze surveying his pitiable acolytes, knew the stakes were too high for a gambit of brute force.

"We must once again use an agent that does not reek of our dark power. I have decided that the attack will come from an anonymous source, and one that does not know us: the government. Yes, the government," the High Master mused, as he savored the possibilities. "A tool, blunt yet effective."

"The bureaucracy can be... persuaded," he continued. "Our acolytes stand ready, and the positions they hold in the government are keys to unlocking doors into dark rooms into which they will cast our enemies."

"Let the witches enjoy their victory and their brief peace. They will never see this storm coming. No need for spells," the High Master said, a smile curling the edges of his lips. "No need for magic when the bureaucrats, courts, and police can achieve the same end. We will silence them, maybe for a while, maybe forever."

One of the High Master's followers was a high functionary in the federal government who knew of a secret government agency known as Department 47, or D47. This agency concerned itself with paranormal activity, including magic. One of its mandates was finding people with true magical ability, determining if they were threats, and if not, using their abilities to benefit the government.

Its success in finding true magical individuals was dismal. Certainly, they had found people with minor powers who impressed them with simple tricks like bending a spoon with the mind. But those with significant magic, who did not want to be found, went undiscovered, even those who held government offices and used their magic to gain power and influence. Many in the government knew of D47, and usually referred to it with derision. However, the High Master thought it could be useful.

"One of my acolytes will pass information about the witches along to D47," he told those assembled. "She will whisper in their ears that they meddled in the last election, which is true," he said grimly. "She will pressure them to detain the witches, and while in the custody of the government we will destroy their sanctuary and everyone in it. Yes, D47... supposed hunters of the arcane, all but blind to the magic that walks among them in the halls of government." He chuckled grimly. "Blind, yes. But when they are shown where to look? When their gaze is directed toward the witches? We shall use their blindness to our advantage. They will crush what they do not understand."

Their acolyte in government was a dark magic practitioner named Caribe Daws. She never showed her magic but employed it every day to increase her own power. She did little of substance in her position, leaving the actual work to her deputies and a few hundred federal drones. She barely knew what her department did, but her title allowed her access to meet and influence people who could push her higher.

"Caribe," said the High Master, "you have a task. D47, the ridiculous pursuer of frauds and fakers, needs your guidance."

Caribe, sitting at her large desk in an office overlooking the Potomac, replied, "I am ready, Master."

"Go to D47. Use your power to influence and direct them to bring in three witches who live near Fort Bragg, California. Insist that they must be brought to D47 headquarters and detained for questioning. Under no circumstances are they to be allowed lawyers or access to the outside world. Be careful, they are practiced in white magic and very powerful. You should not approach them yourself, lest they overwhelm you. From the shadows, direct others to capture and hold them."

Caribe understood her assignment and quickly gained access to the director of D47, then pressured him to send agents to the Ranch.

"We must act," she warned the director of D47, her words cold and deliberate. "In Mendocino, there's a coven, a threat cloaked in shadow."

The director was wary. "You speak of dark magic, of risks to our country. Yet, you present no evidence."

Caribe's retort was swift, a threat wrapped in velvet. "Waiting for more evidence courts disaster. They must be questioned and contained." She exerted all her dark power and filled his mind with fear of the consequences of not acting, and with visions of rewards that would come to him on capturing dangerous magical beings.

With a sigh, the D47 director conceded, but imposed limitations. "Two agents, then. An invitation, not an arrest -- we could not get a warrant by telling a judge that we suspect witchcraft. We must tread lightly, for now."

***

The road leading to the Ranch was so foggy that Mariel could see only a few feet in front of her. She knew where the house was. If she looked over her shoulder, she could see the glow of the light over the front door. However, she could not see down the road. She heard muffled sounds of steps approaching. Then two people appeared, a few feet from her. They did not have faces. She tried to determine if they were evil but could feel nothing. They were living beings, but neither good nor evil. She was afraid of them and ran back to the house. When she got to the door, she looked over her shoulder, and they were still standing there. But now, far down the road, she sensed another who had dark magic. Then she sat up in her bed, afraid. She went directly to Hana and Trista and let them know of her dream, sharing it psychically with them.

"They are coming," said Trista, "sent by one with dark magic. Those that come seem to be empty shells, who are neither good nor bad. They are coming very soon to see us, and we must not allow them to do that until we know more." Hana and Mariel agreed. They trusted Trista and her knowledge of the dark paths that the High Master and his followers walked.

From then on, Forester or one of his people answered the door, and he had two guards at a time always working. A few days later, two D47 agents, a man and a woman, showed up at the Ranch. Andy Forester answered the door and identified himself as the head of security. The D47 agents asked for Mariel, Trista, and Hana by name.

"Can I see some identification?" Both agents presented cards, and Forester took pictures of them with his phone. "What is your business with them?" he asked.

The woman answered, "We have been reliably informed that they are practitioners of magic. This is a matter of national security, and their presence is required in San Francisco."

"That sounds pretty vague," said Forester. "Do you have a warrant for their arrest?"

"Oh, no, no, this is not an arrest," replied the woman, hurriedly. "Our agency is empowered by federal law to detain and examine individuals who are suspected of practicing magic. Our mandate is to determine if there is a national security threat or if the individual can in any way use magic to help the government."

"And you can't do that here?" asked Forester.

"Well, no. The protocol is to do interviews in a federal office. Listen, this really is a matter of national security. It is your duty to cooperate with us."

"Wait here," Forester ordered.

The Doves had been standing around the corner, listening to everything. They went into another room to talk.

"These are the people from my dream," said Mariel, "and there is no evil intention in them. However, they were sent here by a practitioner of dark magic. They may be pawns in the High Master's game and if we leave with them, the Ranch will be defenseless."

"I agree," said Hana, with Trista nodding as well. "We cannot leave with them. Pawns can be dangerous even if they're not evil."

"Right," said Forester, who walked back to the front hall where the two agents were standing. "You two are not telling me everything and they will not be leaving with you today. By the way, I must inform you that I am licensed to carry a firearm."

The agents looked at Forester, now alarmed. "If you insist, we'll leave, but you will be hearing from us." Then the agents turned to leave and Forester watched as they got in their car and drove away.

Once the agents had departed, Mariel said, "They spoke of duty, of national security. No dark magic clings to them, but my dream was clear."

Hana concurred. "They are agents only, unaware of the shadows that move them."

They talked to Sawathi's lawyers, who reached out to the agents to see what they really wanted and asked about the agency that sent them. They repeated what they had told Forester, saying it was a national security issue. They declined to say anything further about the agency they worked for, claiming that it was a matter of national security as well.

"You should know," said one of the agents, "that our lawyers are right now in the process of getting a warrant. The next visit will be from U.S. marshals."

"And you expect a judge to give you a warrant just because you wave national security in front of them?"

"Yes," said the agent.

After speaking to the lawyers, Jonathan said, "I don't think we are going to be able to stop this. We can refuse to comply, and then we will have marshals surrounding this place. Can you three hold them off with magic?"

"I think we can," replied Mariel, simply. "But I don't want to. We would reveal too much of ourselves."

Everyone nodded in agreement. Then Jackson Stall spoke, "We have another option. We can expose these agents. They work for a secretive government agency, so let's make sure it's no longer a secret. I think we should call Peggy Adams and tell her the story."

They all agreed, and Jackson called her. He told her everything and said he could help her put together a story for television. She pitched the story to the station news director, who gave her ten minutes of airtime that evening.

At 7 p.m., Peggy first reminded viewers of who Mariel was and showed a thirty-second clip of one of their videos. Then she described how an unknown federal agency was trying to get a warrant to arrest them on national security grounds and haul them in for questioning.

"Why couldn't they be questioned at her home? What threat to national security could an eight-year-old child, an elderly Buddhist, and a young woman pose to national security? What's their 'crime'? Spreading joy through social media by showing cute animals doing tricks? If the warrant is going to be served, I am going to be there to film it. This is outrageous. Remember, this little girl and her friends have 75 million followers. The people now know, and the people will not permit this."

This report triggered a huge response, especially from followers of Mariel's Friends. Caught off guard by the firestorm they had ignited, D47, which did its best to keep a low profile, called Forester. "We've reconsidered the warrant," the agent conceded reluctantly. "But we request an interview. Just a conversation."

"Where?" asked Forester.

"At your ranch. Nothing more."

Forester said D47 would have an answer within an hour. After conferring with the Family, he called the agent back. "Okay, an interview, here. We will permit only one agent to come into the house and there will be no notes or recordings of the interview."

"What? What kind of interview is that?"

"For now, the only one we will agree to. If we're satisfied with how you conduct yourselves, we may be willing to talk more later. You must earn our trust."

"Alright. Can we do it tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yes."

The next day, someone new, a Mr. Collins, appeared at the door and was again greeted by Forester. He was a middle-aged bureaucrat who looked tired.

"I'm Ted Collins, from Department 47," he said, nervously. He was under pressure to get this interview right and get the Doves into the D47 offices. He had no idea how he was going to do this.