Nemesis:The Alliance Series Book Two

By: Emma L. Adams




“Nobody told me the goblins would be invisible,” I said to Ms Weston.

This wasn’t the oddest conversation I’d ever had with my boss, but it was close. First ambassadorial mission and I’d managed to break my third communicator in a month, this time because it had fallen out of my pocket when chasing down a horde of ravegens, or goblins, as Earth people called them, from the world affectionately known as the cesspool of the Multiverse.

Ms Weston narrowed her eyes at me in her usual disapproving stare. “We’ll definitely look into that next time.” She rested her hands on her meticulously organised desk. “That blasted Campbell family… we need a reliable way to track down who they sold the bloodrock to. This is happening far too frequently.”

Yeah. It was inevitable, now the family who’d been in charge of the illegal bloodrock trade on Valeria were dead or imprisoned, that there’d be an upsurge of activity on the black market, but even I hadn’t guessed I’d spend my first week as Ambassador tracking down goblins across three universes only to find they’d got hold of a substance that could create a camouflage effect, and used it to cross Valeria and cause havoc. Admittedly, I’d always wanted to ride one of those hover bikes, so as far as first missions went, it could have been worse. But I hadn’t intended to crash it into a wall and break my communicator in the process.

Okay, perhaps it was typical of the way my luck usually went. For the past ten minutes, Ms Weston had lectured me about disrespect for Alliance technology–and offworld technology, come to that, considering the hover bike–and she was finally coming to the point where she remembered I had, technically, caught the culprits. Even if the Alliance had had to fork out for property damage.

“Anything else I should know about?” I asked. “Before the next job?”

Ms Weston sighed. “If you insist on getting into these situations, Kay, it might be an idea to look up how to operate Valerian transport beforehand.”

She had a point. Valeria prioritised style over a system that made sense. I did have an Earth motorcycle licence, not that I actually owned one–yet. I was planning on rectifying that now I had the full use of my hands again. A wyvern had destroyed my car, and I’d find a one-to-one fight with another more appealing than London’s public transport system. But assuming the same rules applied on another universe was never a wise idea. Valeria’s technology revolved around magic, and people continually found ways to use it to cause trouble.

And I was a magnet for both.

Ms Weston turned and walked to the window, which overlooked London from the south of the Thames. Beyond the car park below, the river glittered amongst the towering office buildings, a markedly ordinary sight after Valeria’s capital. Now I’d been promoted to an Alliance Ambassador for Central, I’d be spending more time offworld than on Earth, which suited me just fine. Even with the invisible goblins.

“Point taken,” I said. “I didn’t expect it to get out of hand so quickly.”

“Things have a habit of doing that wherever you’re involved, Kay. You didn’t use magic, did you?” She turned her scrutinising stare on me.

“No, I didn’t.” I knew better. Now the Balance had shifted back to normal, virtually all traces of magic on Earth had disappeared and the other worlds had stabilised, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous.

“We could do without the damages,” Ms Weston muttered. “Especially considering the recent refurbishment.”

“I’ll write a cheque in the Walker name,” I said.

For the first time since I’d worked here, Ms Weston looked genuinely surprised, which was saying something, considering we’d once been ambushed by a wyvern outside Central. “Do you think your father will mind the Walker accounts being charged for offworld property damage?”

“Honestly?” I said. “I doubt he’d notice.”

That, at least, was true.

“Very well,” she said. “Carl will give you a new communicator. Again.” She waved a hand in dismissal, and I left the office with the feeling of having narrowly avoided stepping off a cliff.

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