Sitting in Taggart’s presbytery later Aggie explained, “His name is Cordell Hull.” Aggie smiled with an unmistakeable ridicule, “He’s a “deputy wizard” in a hate group called the Silver Shirt Brigade.”
Taggart blinked at the weird combination of words. “A what?”
“A deputy wizard. You would think that ‘wizard’ was a holdover from the KKK, but the deputy part probably came from some “Wild West” bullshit mythology.”
“Wait,” Taggart shook his head. “Are you saying my church is being targeted by the Klu Klux Klan?”
The ridicule dropped away from Aggie’s face to leave a hard mask. “I’m afraid it’s much worse than that. The Silver Shirt Brigade has a history going back to before World War II. They had ties to Nazi Germany, and acted as a fifth column in the United States. They were continually thwarted by Jewish citizens, led by a man named Leon Lewis. So Der Fuhrer sent a Gestapo agent and his foremost occultist, a man named Gyssling Deatherage who inducted the Silver Shirts into the Nazi’s esoteric teachings of the Dragon. The idea was that Gyssling, as Hitler’s foremost expert on the occult, would teach the Silver Shirts enough magic that they could lead an uprising and make sure America didn’t enter the war.”
“That’s preposterous.”
“Any more so than a lycanthrope leading a church in the middle of the City?”
Taggart, like most people, didn’t consider his own existence particularly strange, but after a moment of thought, replied, “I suppose not.”
Aggie shrugged off the interruption. “Part of that plan was recruiting special individuals such as yourself.” Aggie paused. “I mean, you know, the ‘aryan’ ones. Even so, you can imagine how well that went.”
Taggart thought about his grandmother and her strong loyalty to all her family, regardless of color, size, or creed. “Not well,” he replied.
“No. When attempts at recruitment only led to Silver Shirts being slaughtered, they placed them on their list of ‘racial enemies.’ They’ve been hunting loup-garou every since. Fortunately, they’ve been spectacularly bad it. For years they’ve been led by an incompetent named Yars Schwinn, who was as delusional as he was charismatic.”
The corner of Aggie’s mouth twitched downward, its minuteness causing an inverse amount of dread in Taggart. “Unfortunately, Yars died not long ago and the Silver Shirts have been taken over by a man named Haddo.”
“Haddo who?
“Just Haddo as far as I can tell. Which is impressive. I can find out most things I put my mind to it. But he’s clearly more dangerous.”
“Why do you say that?”
Out of her coat, Aggie took a long root, preserved in a plastic bag so its many dry, small bristles stuck to it like tributaries. It reminded Taggart of the broom his mother had disciplined him with, but being near it caused him a pain that forced him reflexively take a step back.
Aggie frowned again, as if Taggart’s reaction confirmed a grim hypothesis. “It’s wolfsbane. If Haddo has been having the Silver Shirts somehow slip this to you, and I can’t imagine any other reason they’d have it, it would explain your –” Aggie stopped, her expression softening as she diplomatically recalled Taggart’s own words, “The impulse control issues you’ve been experiencing of late.”
At this proximity, Taggart found the smell of the root overwhelming and he could only gesture for Aggie to put it away. She returned it to the large zip-bag she had taken it from. When his mind had cleared of pain and he could breathe again, Taggart asked, “So what do we do?” For the first time since the conversation began Aggie gave Taggart what he felt was a genuine smile, one that said, ‘I’m so glad you asked.’
“Well, the police can’t do anything. There was no bomb (obviously) and nothing illegal about the arsenal thatCordell had in his van. So the police won’t be able to act until there’s a verifiable crime.”
Taggart brought his eyebrows together, which had become slightly bushier since the wolfsbane’s appearance. “So why are you smiling?”
“Feel like getting your claws wet, Reverend?”
“Excuse me?”
Aggie explained. “The Silver Shirts have a headquarters, a clubhouse really, outside the City, called Bundhaus. A place where they get together, drink and sing songs to the superiority of pure bloods. They have a member’s meeting every month that almost all of them attend, especially Haddo.”
Aggie paused, and Taggart’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What are you suggesting?”
“They tried to expose you and killed dozens of people in the process. I say you return the favor.” Aggie spread her hands, the brightness of her smile never dimming.
Taggert stood up straight, feeling his shadow gain strength. “You’re suggesting I go to this Bundhaus, during one of these meetings, and murder everyone there?”
Aggie brought her eyes back to Taggart. “Well, how many you murder is up to you.”
Taggert leaned forward so his eyes were level with the shorter woman’s and growled, “Are you serious?”
Aggie’s smile fell away and she leaned forward to be inches from Taggart. “Yes.”
Taggart stepped back. “Ms. McPherson, what you’re suggesting is literally against everything that I teach in my church. It stands against the most important teachings of Christ.”
Aggie cocked her head slightly, violet eyes narrowing on Taggart. After a long consideration she replied, “Isn’t there something in there about protecting your flock, Reverend?” Taggart opened his mouth to reply, but Aggie continued, “They used you in a terrorist attack. Do you think they’re going to let you alone now that they know you’re still alive? That van up the street says otherwise. And the next people you slaughter may be your own congregation.”
Taggart straightened himself. “I will not murder fellow human beings because they make threats to me and mine.To grant us that we, being rescued from the hand of our enemies, Might serve Him without fear. Luke 1:74.”
“Is it murder if it means justice for all those people that were died on Flight 247? Even if getting rid of these fascist assholes makes the world a better place? Guarantees the safety of your congregation?”
“Violence cannot guarantee anyone’s safety. Violence begets violence.”
“If Haddo provoked a transformation from you once, he can do it again.”
“There are members of my flock that know the truth about me. All of me. Now that we know how they did it, we can be watchful about any trespasses in the future.”
“Taggart,” Aggie said his name deliberately, making certain she had his attention. “People are dead. They’re dead because of what the Silver Shirts did to you. And Hull’s presence shows they aren’t going to give up. Unless we do something to stop them, they will come for you.
“Are you willing to accept the consequences of how many people might suffer when that happens?”
“I will not violate the teachings of Christ, the teachings I live by, because they are difficult. It’s because they’re difficult that makes them worth living.” Taggart stared at the door of his office. “And teaching.”
“And what if they attack your church directly? What if someone like Hull walks in with a semi-automatic rifle and just starts plugging people? Are you just going to stand there and preach?”
“That is a very different situation than premeditated murder.”
“Not to the people on Flight 247.”
“Ms –” Taggart stopped himself and breathed deep. “Aggie, unless you have an alternative to offer, this conversation is over.”
Aggie mirrored the Reverend, taking in a long inhalation and holding it while closing her eyes, only to open them with a series of quick blinks. “OK,” she said. “I’ve done what I can.”
Reluctant to let someone who had helped him leave unsatisfied, Taggart asked, “We never discussed your fee?”
Aggie paused, a quick calculation in her eyes. That passed, though. “Keep it. Use it for additional security. I know a brujah in The Hill district that can help set up some wards that might keep Haddo’s tricks away.”
“That would be very useful. Thank you.” Taggart bowed slightly, humbled by the generosity of someone that disagreed with him.
Aggie sighed heavily, expelling a dissatisfaction Taggart could practically smell. “And get some wolves around here.”
Taggart almost laughed at that. “Excuse me?”
“Some armed security. The police will keep an eye on things for awhile, but Haddo will be smart enough not to have the Silver Shirts do anything until their attention goes elsewhere.” Almost as an admonishment, Aggie added, “Get some wolves around here. You’ve got too many sheep.”
At the door, Aggie paused. Hand on the doorknob, she stared at the floor. From having had several difficult conversations in his office, Taggart recognized the expression of someone struggling to find something more persuasive to say, something that might make a change.
Instead, though, she lifted her gaze to look Taggart in the eye and said, “May God bless you, Reverend Taggart.” Then she was gone.
To read the previous chapter, go here.
See the author’s published work here.
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