The conversation with Pash about America’s great minds was fun. I got the impression that the only reason I’d not heard of Albert Einstein was because I’d not gone through the public school system - he was practically legendary, according to Pash, and currently a professor at an institute a few hours away.

He mentioned several notable figures of the modern day, but Einstein in particular seemed most fascinating. Pash told me that he was working on a “grand unification theory,” in attempt to find a way to bring all the forces of nature into one theory. It sounded as though it might be related to the foundations of magic that I’d been taught, though Pash couldn’t confirm it, not knowing any details himself.

He did mention the possibility of working with various scientists in my time with the military. I got the impression that the word “scientist” was a better match for my conception of a scholar, and found myself looking forward to that collaboration.

Our conversation ended on that note, and Pash took me back home. I called Lou to tell her about it, and she was wary of Pash’s motives, which was expected. She was familiar with Einstein, and apparently found it ridiculous that I’d not heard of him, even though I’d not gone to their schools.

The next day, Pash called and let me know that arrangements were being made for a round of testing and demonstration on a military base, instead of simply continuing with Professor Rhine. I wholeheartedly approved of this change, and gladly agreed to be picked up first thing Tuesday morning.

Saturday turned into a little wartime get together with Lou and Slick. We felt we needed to discuss the war’s events and my potential participation, since I was now scheduled to meet with the military in a more official capacity.

As Lou had feared, the war wasn’t going well. Britain was one of the few places in Europe that Germany hadn’t already conquered. Pretty much the only things keeping Britain going were its legendary navy, and surprisingly enough, its air force.

The navy, supported by a smattering of other countries, including Canada, were trying to control and protect shipping routes, which were critical for Britain’s survival. Germany, however, had forced France into surrender, and then into service, which gave them easy access to the ocean. German U-boats were wreaking havoc on Allied forces and merchant ships. Britain had to abandon the Channel Islands, which Germany was now occupying. I could only hope that the tens of thousands of civilians who hadn’t evacuated would be fine.

The air force had the staggering job of holding back the German aerial wing, called the Luftwaffe, from their bombing raids. Which wasn’t new, really. The Luftwaffe had been bombing Britain since late May. Recently, it had been Wales, Scotland, and Ireland under fire. The Luftwaffe kept changing their targets - always industrial or military, but the uncertainty of who would be hit next kept the Allied civilians in a state of unending fear. They weren’t buckling under the pressure, which said quite a bit about the hearts of their people.

Still, with the attacks on the shipping routes in the British channels as of the 10th, things had escalated from occasional swats at British industry into full fledged aerial warfare. It was being called “the battle of Britain,” based on a comment that Churchill had made in his last major speech.

In many ways, it seemed as though the fate of the world hung on this protracted battle. If Germany took over Europe, even America’s excessive military might would be meaningless.

America was getting more involved, for what it was worth. President Roosevelt had pushed for massive increases in military spending, to further the aid they were supplying to the Allied forces in Britain.

All this discussion reminded me of why I was avoiding listening to the radio. The sinking sense of imminent doom that seemed to accompany every tidbit of news was not helping me any.

We tried to figure out if there were any signs of magic in the war. The big picture made it look like something was up - the overwhelmingly successful German offensive was terrifying. But on any individual level, it looked like merely mundane means. Were they holding back? Or were they using magic for something that didn’t reach the news?

Hours of speculation passed with no real conclusions. We just didn’t have enough information. Cautious cooperation was still the only avenue that seemed reasonable, for the time being.

That disappointing conversation was followed by a few more days of disappointing attempts at “research.” I mostly concluded two things - tracking down magic was entirely possible, and I was never going to figure it out on my own.

Even so, I was in reasonably bright spirits on the morning of July 23rd, when Pash came by to pick me up. We were heading to Fort Devens, which was an hour or so outside of Boston.

During the drive, Pash was entirely as charming as I’d grown to expect from him. He’d apparently decided to brush up on his understanding of atomic theory, after our conversation on Thursday, so that he could teach and discuss the subject with me, which I found bizarrely flattering. It was a ridiculous way to get into my good graces, and even though on some level I couldn’t believe it was working, it was nonetheless proving effective.

The truth was, he’d put in solid, real effort into doing something to impress me, based on what he’d learned of my interests. And, the avenue he’d chosen had the clearly established outcome of making me more powerful, in application.

He was making it ridiculously hard to revile him.

There was no way I’d be able to admit any of this to Lou, Slick, or Liam. They’d just give me that look, like I was being childish or naive. I’d just have to keep my growing appreciation for the fox secret.

I looked around at the base as we drove in. They were starting some massive construction of some kind. It gave me a feeling of foreboding, to see a military installation being quickly advanced. We drove past some security, who were obviously expecting us, before parking near a nondescript building.

I quietly followed Pash inside, past some more soldiers, before being led to an office. A man sat at the desk inside, silver hair making an increasing presence on his scalp, giving me a sharp, appraising look. There was a strip of cloth on each of his shoulders, which both showed a single star. None of the other soldiers had any markings with stars, so I imagined it was related to his rank.

“Greetings, General Richardson,” Pash said with a respectful tilt of his head.

“Lieutenant Pash,” the general replied curtly.

His eyes barely flickered towards Pash before returning their scrutiny to me.

“Miss Aera Koryn,” he said, in a way that made me want to sit down and meekly do as I was told. “Do you understand why you are here?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “I am to demonstrate my skill in a controlled environment, according to your directives.”

“Good,” he said. “The nature of these demonstrations will vary, according to your successes, as they come. Pash tells me that you have the ability to stop bullets. Is this correct?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

His eyebrow twitched skeptically, as though he wasn’t expecting me to actually confirm that claim.

“Very well,” he said. “Our first stop will be the firing range. You are not to put yourself in harm’s way. There will also be no tampering with equipment. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

I had the impression I was going to be saying those two words a great deal.

He stood up with an unnaturally rigid posture, much like the rest of the soldiers I’d glimpsed around the base. I was realizing that the oddly rigid and formal approach that Pash had demonstrated when we’d first met was due to the military, rather than a personal preference. It was a bit unnerving.

Pash and I followed Richardson outside and down a little dirt walkway until we reached a cleared field next to a little building. On the near side, there were little barricades, with a young soldier standing next to them. Like his general, he stood stiffly, and he was holding a gun.

It wasn’t pointing at me, and rather, was held across his chest in a formal sort of way. The soldier also didn’t give any sign of noticing me - his eyes were for the general only.

Was everything in the military this bizarrely rigid?

“Private Marshall will be providing assistance,” Richardson said. “Miss Koryn, you are to remain here, next to me, and not touch or interact with Private Marshall in any way. From here, you are to block the bullets from hitting the targets.”

He quickly gestured at some figures in the distance - wooden targets, probably. The closest ones couldn’t have been closer than dozens of feet, at least.

“I’m to block the bullets, at range?” I asked, surprised.

“Are you capable of that?” Richardson asked.

“Um… vaguely,” I said. “The nearest ones… probably. It’ll be tiring, though.”

“Noted,” he said, then turned to face the soldier. “Private, take aim at the target at ten meters. Fire on my command.”

“Yes, sir,” the soldier said, and promptly turned to aim at the closest target.

“Miss Koryn, are you ready?” Richardson asked.

“Er, not quite yet,” I said. “Give me a moment.”

He nodded and I turned my attention to the target. I’d not made barriers further away than ten, maybe twenty feet at most, in my life.

Reaching the target with my magesense was easy, but when I shifted my focus to Flamus, I started to feel unbalanced. Pushing my magic into the solid manifestation of a barrier gave me such bad vertigo that I started to fall over.

“Are you alright, Ms. Koryn?” Pash asked, his hands steadying my shoulders.

“I’m fine,” I said. “Are we sure I can’t just go out onto the range and let the soldier shoot me directly, instead?”

“Under the circumstances, I cannot permit that,” Richardson said. “How close do you need to be?”

“Let me try again from here,” I said. “I’ll sit on the ground.”

Pash had a fleeting look of surprise, but extended a hand to help me lower myself to the dirt. I took a breath and focused again. This time, I didn’t need to pay attention to my own physical existence as much, freeing up some mental resources.

“I’ve created an absorption barrier,” I said after a moment, my voice a little shaky. “It won’t reflect the bullet, even if it’s overwhelmed, so there’s no danger.”

“Understood,” Richardson said. “Private Marshall, fire.”

The sound of the contained explosion made me flinch, but the impact was only slightly stronger than I’d expected. The surge of magic in the connection made me briefly dizzy again, but I held it together.

“Interesting,” Richardson said, his voice showing sign of intrigue. “Can your barrier withstand more shots?”

“Yes,” I said. “Feel free to shoot until it breaks - no matter what you do, it won’t harm me in the least.”

“Very well. Private Marshall, fire at will,” he said.

Again and again, that earsplitting sound of gunfire echoed across the field. After the twelfth shot, which took a minute or so, I raised my hand to get the General’s attention.

“I need a moment,” I said, my voice shaking so badly I would have been shocked if he made out all the words.

“The bullets overwhelmed the barrier?” Richardson asked, after telling the soldier to stop shooting.

“No,” I said, taking slow, deep breaths between sentences. “They were well within my strength. I just am not practiced at holding barriers at that range. I couldn’t keep it up any longer.”

“How close would you need to be to demonstrate your full defensive ability?” he asked.

“The closer I am, the better,” I said. “Within three to five feet would be best, but I’d put up a good defense at ten feet, I think.”

“I see,” he said, musing. “Would you expect to be in any danger, if you were hit by a stray bullet?”

“None,” I said. “I have created an enchantment which should withstand at least half a dozen shots of that strength before it needs to be recharged.”

He didn’t seemed phased by the word, which suggested that Pash had told him about enchantments. He nodded slowly, thinking, and then turned his gaze on me again.

“I will not put you out in line of fire unless there is reason to be absolutely certain of your safety,” he said. “You will stand ten feet off to the side of the target, and will not move without my leave. Private Marshall will not miss by that margin, not at close range. You will call out to fire with each shot, and will not call out unless you are certain your barrier can take the hit. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, smiling wryly.

It amused me that even with seeing my barrier in action, he was so obviously concerned about me getting shot. It was also weird that he expressed his concern in absolute authoritarian tones, but I was getting the impression that I’d have to get used to that.

As soon as I shook off the dizzy spell from my overextended range, I stood and stepped out onto the firing range. I went off to the side from the still undamaged target and fiddled around with the barrier until I felt like I was able to hold it comfortably.

“I’m ready,” I said, with a smile and a wave.

“Fire,” Richardson said, and the bullet came whizzing through the air.

The barrier was fully restored within a half second. This test had nothing on five tommy guns.

“That was easy,” I said. “I’m pretty sure you can run through all the ammo you brought without making me even try.”

“Miss Koryn, you are to call out when you are ready for another shot,” Richardson said with a stern expression.

I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t sure if he’d see it from thirty feet away, but he probably picked up on my insolence regardless.

“Go ahead and fire,” I said, a small laugh in my voice.

The boom of gunfire hadn’t faded from the air when I called out to fire again. As soon as Marshall reloaded, he shot off another bullet. It quickly became obvious to Pash and Richardson that my defenses were vastly superior to the offensive ability of a single rifle.

As for me, I had magic to spare. I used it to add a dampening effect to the air, reducing the sound of gunfire. I didn’t want a headache.

Even so, they maintained the test for about ten minutes. I started to get fatigued, but it took enough time between shots that I was even able to drop the barrier, rest briefly, and put it back up again before the next shot.

“Enough,” Richardson said, eventually. “Miss Koryn, I would like to test a variety of weapons against this barrier of yours.”

“Certainly,” I said, smiling brightly at him.

Something about his rigid demeanor made me want to defy him with excessive cheerfulness.

It did prove a bit challenging to maintain that cheerfulness over the course of the next hour. Apparently, that rifle was nowhere near the most powerful gun at the base.

The machine guns he tried were easy enough to handle. They had enough impact that I couldn’t keep my barrier up for more than a minute or so at a time, but I was able to block all the shorts.

The sniper rifle caught me by surprise. The first few shots went clean through my barrier as if it weren’t there - they were simply too fast for my barrier to “catch.” I had to adjust it to be more aggressive in its redirection of kinetic energy, so as to complete the process before the bullet finished passing through.

It worked, but I couldn’t hold the barrier up for long. A paltry five or ten seconds, it was pathetic. After a few attempts, I called out for a five minute break and came up with a new plan. The fact that the bullets could get through my barrier was deeply unsettling, and I wasn’t going to let that go.

I was delighted to find that having a double barrier - one to slow down the bullet, and the second to stop it - was both effective and sustainable. My effective immortality restored, I happily went back to taking the variety of shots.

General Richardson was surprised to discover that smaller caliber guns had an easier time penetrating my barrier than large ones. The fact was, though, that the bigger bullets had enough energy to be easy to “see,” and were slow enough to give my magic time to “catch” them.

Time between shots, speed of the bullet, and distance between myself and my barrier were the biggest factors. He couldn’t send anything at me that was too powerful for me to take, but when he and Pash joined Marshall to fire a handful of machine guns at the target, they tore my barrier to shreds in seconds. Despite my best efforts, the target did end up getting pretty frayed.

After the gun demonstration, Richardson had the soldier take me down to the mess hall to get me some coffee and whatever tidbits I might want to eat, while he and Pash chatted for a while.

Private Marshall was either not allowed to be friendly, or was feeling intimidated. I also couldn’t tell if he was supposed to protect me, or protect the military from me. Both options seemed silly, all things considered. One way or another, by this point, it was obvious that no one was allowed to go anywhere near me, without the general’s say. Anywhere we went was almost entirely evacuated prior to our arrival.

After about fifteen minutes, Richardson and Pash came back. Pash was walking behind the general, so I was the only one who saw the subtly smug look on his face.

With that, we started the next round of tests.

One test that the general wanted was so ludicrous it made me outright giggle. He wanted to see if there was anything that could be done against me in hand to hand combat. He actually put me and Private Marshall together, where Marshall was supposed to be trying to hit me, throw me, and whatever else they figured was worth trying.

It was the only sort of combat, in a traditional sense, that I was capable of. I was taught how to kill quickly and efficiently, and I was taught how to defend myself against monsters. A human trying to trip me with a wooden stick, or slice at me with a dull knife, was far easier than a giant, magically enhanced wolf trying to rip out my throat.

General Richardson concluded that I was “invincible” in melee combat after a mere ten minutes. I was disappointed that he didn’t try bringing in more soldiers - I was passingly curious how many it would take before it started requiring actual effort.

Next up was dealing with explosives. Some spellcasters might have had some trouble, but not one who’d lived near my mother. Fully containing explosions took some degree of effort, but if I were permitted to safely redirect the forces as I pleased, he again found himself with nothing that phased me in the least. In fact, explosions were so easy, I was delighted to discover that I could even handle them reasonably well at range. I could protect a target from a grenade at fifty feet!

At no point did he ever feel comfortable ordering a conventionally lethal attack on me directly, though, no matter how thorough my defenses were. He seemed content to take my word for it that my defenses were stronger the closer they were to me.

The demonstrations were spread out, varied, and low stress enough that I was no more than pleasantly fatigued at any point as the day went on, after that first bout of overdoing my range.

By early afternoon, Richardson seemed satisfied with this round of tests, and asked to speak to me privately in his office.

“Have a seat, Miss Koryn,” he said as he sat behind the desk.

He gave me a long, speculative look as I sat down in front of him. Unlike the tedious tests that Rhine had fashioned, these tests were both fun and impressive, leaving me feeling smug.

“There are a few issues that need to be addressed,” he said, his words slow and careful. I nodded. “How loyal are you to the United States of America?”

“I’m not,” I said, and his face tightened marginally. “I am grateful to America in small measure for the hospitality I have received, I am opposed to the actions of the Nazis, and I support the wellbeing of humanity. To that extent, and no further, might I be considered loyal.”

“That is a problem,” he said, his voice low.

I suppressed the urge to shrug. It seemed a trifle too disrespectful, under the circumstances. I simply waited for his next question.

He considered me for a moment, and then said, “How likely is it, in your opinion, that Germany has multiple spellcasters?”

“Pash has more knowledge of that than I do,” I said.

His expression was dubious. I wasn’t sure why. Sure, I could recognize magic better than anyone, but it wasn’t like I had any first hand information from the war.

“Where do you actually come from?” he asked.

“Um…” I hesitated. “Even with what you’ve seen, I imagine it would be hard to believe. If you want, I will answer, but…”

“I asked the question,” he said, his tone unforgiving.

“Er, of course,” I said, flushing a little. “Sorry. Um, you see, my parents…”

I told him briefly about my parents’ work and the accident that sent me to his world. He didn’t seem as disbelieving as I’d expected. Maybe it was because of the effectiveness of the demonstrations.

“Considering the lack of evidence for such power in the history of this world,” I said, “I cannot help but think that the teleportation incident must surely relate, in some way, to my arrival here.”

“Professor Rhine’s research suggests that there is a history of such things here,” he said.

“I saw inside his mind,” I said. “He is obsessed with his vision, and though he may be intelligent in some ways, his obsession has consumed him to the point where rationality has forsaken him. He claims there is evidence of such things because he wishes it were so, but he doesn’t actually understand what the world would look like if he were right. I do know what it looks like, and I can say with some certainty that there have been no figures of magic of my parents’ caliber in the recorded history of your world.”

“I see,” he said, looking speculative. “If the Germans have access to magic, as you suspect, what sort of weapons might they create?”

I paused for a moment.

“If they bring forth weapons with a small measure of magic, it wouldn’t be too noticeable,” I said. “They’d be able to penetrate any defenses, or have perfect accuracy, or other such little things.”

“And if they have a large measure of magic?” he asked.

I shrugged and looked down.

“Then the war is over,” I said. “You lose.”

“You obviously underestimate human ingenuity,” he said.

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. He shifted in his chair.

“Lieutenant Pash tells me that you are a pacifist,” he said. “That you would refuse to make any sort of weaponry for the Allied forces, or fight for America. Is this correct?”

“Not exactly,” I said. “I do favor peace to war, and life to death, but I recognize the necessity of violence, when life and peace demand it. The issue…”

I hesitated, thinking. He let me take my time.

“On a personal level,” I said, “I have a few concerns. One, having the will to kill is a larger barrier for magic use than by most means. Further, I do not ever wish to look back and realize that I, through error or ignorance, committed war crimes, such as enabling genocide.”

He nodded slowly.

“A second issue is setting precedent,” I said. “If I am easily convinced to provide the means by which to slaughter others, then it will become expected of me. I will become nothing but an instrument of death, in the eyes of others, and will have increasing difficulty resisting that use.”

He nodded again.

“On a broader level, I am concerned, in essence, with accidentally destroying the world as you know it,” I said.

His eyebrow twitched at that.

“How, exactly, might you do that?” he asked.

“My world is very different from yours,” I said quietly. “Magic is a boon to those who have it, but outside that… the world is unkind in ways that your world has never known. The various consequences of magic are natural and obvious, at least in hindsight. My concern is that I might accidentally set things in motion to send your world down a similar path as mine.”

“What are these consequences?” he asked. “I need details.”

I took a slow breath.

“There are so many…” I said, shaking my head. “Countless horrors. Let me tell you of one avenue, that is within my own capability.”

I lifted my right hand and changed it to be like that of a dragon’s - scaled, red, large, and ending in ferocious claws. He looked intrigued.

“Alteration of biology is my strength,” I said. “Creating new creatures is common enough, and the most skilled life casters can even make their creations breed true.”

“Breed true?” he asked.

“To have offspring that share their characteristics,” I said. “Unlike my change just now, which is superficial.”

He nodded.

“The creatures of your world are varied, but constrained by normal biological limitations,” I said. “Beasts formed in this way are not limited by such things. They can even, if created for it, use magic themselves. Some are intelligent. Some have skin, thick with both flesh and magic, that could withstand any of the attacks demonstrated today. Some are wondrous, incredible creatures - gifts to the world to be cherished, but many are monsters of the sort hinted at only in the darkest legends your people have ever told.”

His face expression grew more uneasy as I spoke.

“It needn’t even be intentional,” I said, my voice quiet. “When I was five years old, my parents had to respond to a crisis. Some life caster wanted to create a gift to the world. He made songbirds, who were designed to only feed on dead things, like fallen tree branches, who made hauntingly beautiful music for humans, and were magically enhanced so as to be more durable. The idea was for them to make the world more beautiful, by cleaning up messes and making music in its place.”

He looked slightly confused.

“Unfortunately,” I said, “these birds were intelligent enough to figure out that they could kill things to get food, and yet not intelligent enough to realize this was a bad thing. Their breeding rate was dictated by the amount of food near them, so when they wiped out a human village, they’d produce thousands of eggs, before flying off in search of more food.”

His face tightened at that.

“They fed on practically everything,” I said. “Forests were ripped from the ground. Villages were turned to dust, with no sign they’d ever been there, save for bits of metal and other inedibles. They left nothing but dirt in their wake, and since their digestion was magically aided, they needed no time to process their food, nor did they need sleep. In under a week, an area the size of Massachusetts was utterly barren.”

“But weren’t there other magically enhanced creatures?” he asked. “Couldn’t some things survive this attack?”

“Yes,” I said. “But what will stay around where there’s no food? Even powerful creatures wouldn’t want to defend increasingly worthless territory against a plague of annoyances, when they can just leave. Human spellcasters also evacuated, bringing as many as they could personally protect, as fast as they could flee.”

“And your parents handled this crisis?” he asked.

“They, and a number of other powerful spellcasters,” I said. “My father loaned out several enchantments to lesser spellcasters, and was part of the team focused on containing the spread. My mother is extremely good at magical offense, and was part of the team focused on extermination. Their combined efforts still took weeks, because by then, there were millions of the birds. And even afterwards, the disaster wasn’t over - the most powerful magical creatures had simply left, and were causing major territorial disputes in the surrounding regions, resulting in more destruction.”

He frowned at that.

“The death toll would have been enormous, had the human population ever had a chance to actually get large,” I said wryly. “But the sad fact is, this sort of thing is common. Most of my world is uninhabited, despite humans breeding as quickly as is sustainable. And that’s the scale of disaster caused by a well intentioned accident.”

My smile turned sad.

“Magic can do a great deal of good,” I said softly. “After that disaster, life casters restored the plains and forests, and since it was all intentionally made, it was made to human perfection. Food and resources aplenty, stocked with creatures friendly to human life. Some humans from locations that were getting crowded were invited to colonize the area. After all, we have to keep humanity spread out, so that no matter what area is reduced to ash, the species will survive.”

He nodded slowly.

“One, of so many disasters, within the mere decade of memory I have in that place,” I said. “Let alone legends of major disasters. Imagine, if that songbird plague was common enough to not bother telling the story, how bad must things get for the legend to inspire fear in our people? I don’t even want to tell those stories - I’d prefer for the knowledge of what powerful spellcasters can do when their intentions are not so benevolent to die with me.”

His expression was still.

“A common plight is more natural in origin,” I said. “When a large number of things able to manipulate magic are in the same area - whether human, magical beasts, plants, enchantments, and so forth - it destabilizes reality itself in the region. Normal, natural disasters can become enhanced. Hurricanes, for instances, can have uncontrolled fire magic, causing everything touched by its rain to burst into unquenchable flames.”

I chuckled dryly, and the general looked at me with a deeply unsettled expression. I couldn’t help but think to myself that he wasn’t even remotely ready to hear about the gods, or the horrors that resulted when gods went to war with each other.

“Now tell me, General Richardson,” I said. “How would your ‘human ingenuity’ handle that?”

He was silent for a long moment.

“Given the severity of problems that spellcasters cause in your world,” he said slowly, “would you use your abilities offensively to directly combat other spellcasters, or assist us in creating weaponry to combat them? Are you comfortable with that?”

“To use myself directly; yes, absolutely,” I said. “But… to provide weaponry is, in itself, providing an avenue by which magic can proliferate. That is a concern.”

“Non magical weaponry,” he said.

“Ah,” I said. “That would be completely fine.”

“You’re clever,” he said cautiously, “so obviously you understand that that was part of the nature of today’s tests.”

“Of course,” I said, sighing. “You must destroy those who are like me. I understand that. But this is more important than my life.”

“From the information you gave me, it sounds like this is a threat to the entire world,” he said.

There’s a reason I fell on my backside in a state of absolute panic when I realized they have power, without the knowledge to mitigate consequences, I thought to myself.

“Which is why I stepped forward,” I said softly. “Despite knowing the risks of interacting with you. And being told I would be likely to be betrayed by you.”

“While there are certain people within the military that would most definitely try to take advantage of the talents you have put forth on the display,” he said, “I can assure you that the military as a whole would not.”

“You mean in the sense of trying to make me make other spellcasters?” I asked.

“Is that a possibility?” he asked.

I hadn’t wanted to tell them, but… they had to know that the Germans might have that capability.

“I…” I hesitated. “I don’t want you to go after those I’ve already taught. I want it to be just me.”

“I find it interesting that you so heavily caution against spellcasters in the world, the great evils they can do, and yet, here you are, having created others,” he said. “For what purpose?”

“To help,” I said. “I don’t think it is a bad thing for your world to have magic, to have spellcasters. It must simply be done carefully. The problems can be avoided if there is caution used in its release. Those I have taught are not ambitious, and they don’t know enough to train others. But they can use what they know to help others. There are many evils in your world that don’t exist in mine, that magic can help.”

“Let’s keep this on point with the Germans,” he said. “I take it those you’ve trained are US citizens?”

“Yes,” I said.

“There is talk about a draft in the near future,” he said. “Are you familiar with the concept?”

“I am,” I said.

“Then you understand these students of yours might be brought into the military,” he said.

I nodded and said, “I must simply insist that their abilities not be used recklessly.”

“I can assure you that the military will not use your students recklessly,” he said.

“Acceptable,” I said. “I have taught two others, and their ability with magic is currently slight in both cases. Sufficient to prove they have it, but neither have either offensive or defensive capabilities at present.”

“Thank you for that information,” he said, and I nodded in acknowledgement.

He gave me another speculative look.

“You’ve give me a great deal to consider, Miss Koryn,” he said slowly. “If you are willing, I would like tomorrow to have a variety of offensive demonstrations, to see what we might have to face.”

“Gladly,” I said.

“A room will be prepared for you immediately, so that you don’t have to waste time traveling back and forth to the base,” he said. “Expect to spend almost the entirety of the near future here, working with us on preparations for the German threat.”

“I am glad you are taking this seriously,” I said.

His lip twitched faintly, as though my comment made him passingly want to smile.

“While you are here,” he continued, “you are to remain with guard at all times. Currently, that is Private Marshall, and you will not interact with any other soldiers without my express leave.”

“Why?” I asked.

“We don’t want word of your abilities and involvement to spread,” he said.

“That makes sense,” I said. “But why do I need a guard?”

“He is to keep an eye on you, guide you where you need to go, and ensure you don’t go anywhere restricted,” he said.

“Understood,” I said. More of a guide than a guard, then.

“You will be referred to as a visiting dignitary for the time being,” he said. “When you’re ready, Private Marshall will drive back to Boston with you and help you pack whatever items you need for your stay here. Do you have any concerns before you leave?”

“No, sir,” I said.

“Good,” he said. “You are dismissed.”

-----

Brigadier General Richardson watched the door close behind a little girl who could turn into a dragon and rip his throat out. A dainty woman who’d need a tank in order to be stopped.

And worse, he’d previously thought the only thing to fear was Germany taking over the world.

“God damn, I’m getting too old for this,” he muttered under his breath.

After a long minute, he pulled himself to his feet. Mikhail Pash was an old friend of his, and while he was glad this hadn’t turned out to be an embarrassing failure for the investigator, the added complexities weren’t exactly welcome.

This ‘spellcaster’ was a problem. He needed to talk to Mikhail about how to acquire this girl’s loyalty, immediately.

This was truly the second world war, and the fate of the world was at stake.