The wind blew colder on this day than anyone in the family remembered. The first thing the family of four noticed was a chill that seeped through the house, but none of them thought anything of it and continued on with their farm chores.
After breakfast, the eldest son and his father hiked out to the farthest barn. The wind whistled through their ears with a sound they could barely hear; the sound of something being forced into shape it was never meant to take. The father, muttering under his breath at all the things that had seemingly broken the night before, including their truck, was too preoccupied to notice what the son easily picked up on. "Dad, the cattle look spooked."
His father turned haphazardly. Looking but not really seeing. "Yeah, we can deal with it later. Hurry up." Not wanting to further anger his father, the son continued walking. His father continued, "Adam, that delinquent fucker, should'a picked this shit up on his drive in. Fuckin' knew I should'a never hired him." The son remained quiet. He didn't bother sticking up for his friend.
From a distance, the father noticed the barn was painted a different color and instantly cussed under his breath, blaming it on the neighborhood children.
The son felt like he knew better, though. There was no way the local kids could paint the entire barn black, and do it so completely without leaving a trace. They were more likely to leave graffiti, maybe a tag or two. Not that it really mattered in this desolate region.
Nevertheless, the two shuffled around the black barn for the tools they'd need to fix the tools that were broken. Maybe it was strange that everything inside the barn was left untouched when the wood was so perfectly painted black, but the father didn't call attention to it and he was in a bad mood so the son left it alone. There were a lot of things that were left alone when they shouldn't have.
With their equipment in harnesses and boxes and sacks in hand, they headed outside only to find the sun gone. In the span of fifteen minutes, day had turned back into night.
"Where are the stars?" the son asked and a freezing cold wind blew them over. In the distance, a darkness rolled across the field.
Willoughby picked up the report from the India office, which was heavily creased and stained with coffee. It was merely a reiteration of what Admin Bodie Iyer had told him during their meeting a few weeks ago: there were no missing otherworlders, nor any suspicious staff members. With a deep sigh, Willoughby leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the ceiling above him. The document suddenly seemed insignificant.
"What if an entire office went rogue?" Jules suggested. He was neck deep in scrubbing but still managed to clearly understand what Willoughby was troubled over. Maybe it was obvious.
"The thought did cross my mind," Willoughby began, "but which one? None of them appear suspicious."
Jules shrugged. "That attack on Office 8... They went for Iyer first, right?"
"That's right."
"What happened?"
Willoughby let out a sigh and glanced over at Jules. "He was shot—among other things," he said, shaking his head sadly. "Effectively, it left him incapable of defending Office 8. He almost didn't make it."
"Are his powers really that major?"
"Absolutely. He's one of our strongest members."
"What if someone had a grudge against him? Or the entire office?"
Willoughby looked surprised. "A grudge? I... hadn't thought of that. Can you—"
"Already looking into it."
Willoughby smiled a little. "Thanks."
"By the way, something popped up while I was scrubbing. Thought you would wanna take a look." Jules clicked thrice and a notification popped up on Willoughby's tablet.
"A case?" Willoughby looked over the series of images and video sent over, all of a black cloud forming and moving across a vast field. "What were you thinking it could be?"
"One of those things that girl lost. Uh, Amon."
Willoughby's eyes looked up for a split second before going back to the files. "Amon, huh?"
"Yep."
"You know, Emily's been around for a while now. You should know her name."
"I know it. I'm just not fond of her very much."
"Because she's with your brother?"
Jules avoided answering the question by sending the preliminary report to the printer and quipping, "If you tell anyone, I'll send a company-wide email with your clandestine karaoke recordings included."
Willoughby jumped out of his seat. "Let me grab those printouts while you call Emily and your brother to the conference room, okay?"
"Why do you want Oliver?"
"If it really is Amon, his knowledge will be invaluable."
A few minutes later, Emily and Oliver sat across from Willoughby in the conference room. The field team, as they were each on separate missions, weren't present.
Emily inquired, "What makes this more threatening than the seraph?" The disaster of the last mission they undertook a while back still weighed on her thoughts, and she thought about it constantly.
"What do you know about Amun-Ra and Amon?" Willoughby said.
The first thing Emily wanted to say was that Amon was the name of a character in a show, but after wiping that thought away she said, "Um, Amun-Ra was the name of that gold book in The Mummy, right?"
Oliver laughed. He thought her attempt was rather cute, but Willoughby was less forgiving.
"Not exactly," Willoughby said, his brow furrowed. "But you're on the right track. Amun-Ra was one of the most important deities in the New Kingdom. At some point, likely due to the mixing of cultures, languages, and religions, Amun-Ra transformed into the Goetic demon, Amon."
Emily frowned. "You mean, a new aspect was born, right?"
"That's right. But their natures are so antithetical to each other that one could hardly call them the same being. And yet, they are. If the root of this phenomena, as described in the prelim report, is indeed Amon, the aspect responsible will be a blend between a god and a demon. We don't know the full spectrum of abilities it may have or the range of reality warping it's capable of."
"There has to be some sort of list of its possible capabilities, though, right?" Emily said. She attempted to search for its name in the database.
Willoughby crossed his arms. "It's very limited. Amun-Ra is a very old deity, one that has many different aspects across different cultures, all of varying strengths. As for the Goetic demon, the Goetia is Oliver's specialty, so he should be able to tell you more than I could. He'll also be going on the mission with you."
Emily looked up from her tablet. "Huh?"
"What? I can advise from here. Why do I have to go?"
Willoughby's frown deepened, as if he wished he didn't have to send Oliver away. With a heavy sigh, he squinted at the email on his screen. "You can tell how important this is by the fact that I'm sending you," he said. "Jules booked your flights for first thing tomorrow, so get ready." He packed up his things and walked out of the room.
Oliver let out a deep breath and ran his hands over his face in frustration. He hated fieldwork. Without any special powers, he was useless in combat and dreaded the idea that the team would have to look after him. His knowledge wasn't likely to be useful enough to make up for this. He glanced over at Emily who was humming happily as she worked on the mission outline. "What are you so cheerful about?" The question sounded harsher than Oliver had meant it to, but didn't she recognize the seriousness of the job they were about to do?
Emily, a little surprised, looked up with her mouth agape. "You look upset. Do you not like that we get to be together this time?"
So that was why she was in such high spirits. A small smirk crept onto his face and he propped his chin up on his hand as he leaned forward onto the table. "No, forget it. Seeing you so happy is all I need to lift my mood." Emily returned his smile and got back to work.
Having nothing else to occupy his time, Oliver stepped out of the conference room and joined his brother in the office area. He laid eyes on his desk and a strange tranquility washed over him as he sat down.
"About the mission..." Jules began.
Oliver looked up from his monitor. "I know, I know. You're going to tell me to be careful, right?" He was being playful but his brother didn't seem to appreciate it.
"I have a bad feeling about this mission. Please, take it seriously."
"I'll probably be outside whatever perimeter we set up, or staying at base. I'll be fine."
"The last time we went out in the field we came back with broken bones—I don't want that happening to you again. Or anything worse."
Oliver took in his brother's grave expression and felt a little unsettled. "Don't worry. I'll be fine."