About an hour later, a knock came at the patio door off the dining room. Not the front door.

  “I’ll get it!” Blaze called, the scrape of her kitchen chair on the tile echoing behind her as she stood.

  “Who’d be knocking there?” I muttered, standing to follow her. I reached the dining room just as she opened the door. Beyond her stood agent Phillips. Gone was the expensive suit from the last time I’d seen him; he wore blue jeans, sneakers, a Broncos T-shirt, and a green ball cap with a patch for a hunting and fishing chain. I guessed this was his idea of a low-key disguise.

  Even dressed casually, the man had muscles. His arms weren’t bodybuilder-sized, but they were solid…well-defined and clearly from consistent workouts. No fat anywhere. Behind him, near the edge of the backyard, a man and woman in casual business attire without jackets or ties. They carried gym bags. The bags looked heavy.

  “Gunny sent me,” Phillips said with a laugh.

  I laughed too. Blaze glanced between us, clearly confused.

  “Come in, Mr. Phillips,” Blaze said, stepping aside.

  “Thank you. May my agents come in as well?” he asked.

  “Will,” she looked at me, “I think they’re here to check the house before she arrives.” I nodded, understanding.

  “Come on in. All of you,” I said. “I’ve been expecting them, just not you. Do what you need to do.”

  Phillips motioned for his agents to join him. All three moved in, scanning the room like their heads were on swivels. Looking back at us, he asked, “Just the two of you here right now?”

  “Yes sir. No one else.” Blaze answered for me.

  He nodded, then turned back to me. “Mr. Bannister, for the record, are there any weapons in the house, specifically firearms?”

  “No, sir. No guns unless you count a rubber band gun in an armor bag in the garage,” I said with a teasing grin. “Sharp, pointy things? Plenty. The only sharp sword is hanging on the coat rack with my belt knife.”

  “I know about them. Saw you wearing them when we met. Mind if I take a look?”

  “Go right ahead. Just put them back when you’re done.” He nodded.

  While we talked, one of his agents moved through the house with a small device I didn’t recognize. It was probably scanning for hidden cameras or microphones.

  The other had a laptop out on the dining room table. Blaze gave her my Wi-Fi password. Likely in case they needed to work while the president was here.

  “Mr. Bannister?” Phillips held up my belt knife, frowning. “K-bar, but I’ve never seen one like it. Real?”

  “Yes,” I laughed. “Very real. My mother’s knife from her Navy days in WWII. They called it a tool, not a knife. No serrated back edge like the Marines’ version.”

  He studied it. “This makes it one of the earliest ones. I didn’t know the Navy had a different version. Seventy-five years old? Still sharp?”

  “I try to keep it that way. Plenty of use over the years, but with care, it should last decades more.”

  “I’d ask if you planned to use these on the President,” he said, slipping it back in its sheath. “I don’t think you would. Your magic would be faster.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “Magic is far faster than drawing any weapon.” He nodded, understanding.

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  “If you’d said otherwise, I wouldn’t trust you,” Phillips said. “Can I call you Will, or William?”

  “Yes, usually Will.”

  The agent with the scanner went down the hall, checking the bedrooms and computer room. Bathrooms and the other bedroom likely next.

  I cast a quick REVEAL STATS on Phillips. Surprised at my glance, he smiled when he realized what I’d done. Level 3 Mentalist…he’d never tried CHARM on me when we first met. He also had REVEAL STATS.

  “I see you finally found my class. Surprised you didn’t do it earlier. Doubted I could CHARM you. Level 10, huh? Congratulations. Might be the first in the U.S.”

  “Thank you. I think.”

  He turned to Blaze. “Mz Pozarkova, has he ever used his Mentalist powers on you, aside from shields?”

  Blaze glanced at me, I nodded, then she looked back at him. “Yes.”

  Phillips’ eyes widened. I think that was the first time I’d seen him genuinely surprised. The other agents paused, watching us.

  “Explain.” Phillips said.

  “It was before and during the stadium fight,” Blaze said. “They were using Mentalists to control large groups. Will CHARMed us so his higher-level CHARM couldn’t be overridden. He was right. We resisted all the CHARMs cast on us.”

  “He didn’t force anything that could linger?”

  “No sir. If there were leftover effects, I’d see it on my screen. I trusted him enough to let him CHARM me. He asked permission and told me to remember everything. I did. Felt normal except the notice on my screen. Nothing harmful.”

  He asked my permission to have me do something I wouldn’t normally do, but wouldn’t harm me.”

  Phillips frowned. “What did he have you do?”

  “Embarrassing, not harmful,” Blaze said.

  “Like?” Phillip’s face obviously said he didn’t like what he’d heard.

  “A chicken dance from a game Will plays,” she admitted. “Slightly embarrassing, but harmless.”

  The agent with the laptop burst out laughing. “Slash chicken!” she gasped between chuckles.

  “She plays World of Warcraft,” I said. “That’s where it comes from.”

  “Roberts. Explain.” Phillips barked at her.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, finally composed. “I did the emote more than two hundred times before I finally got my special pet…a chicken. Most players never get it. It was a big achievement.”

  “So, in-game, it isn’t embarrassing?”

  “Maybe a little, but worth it. Players use it to tease others for being chicken to do something. Eventually, it’s just fun. Videos exist online.”

  Phillips studied Blaze. “After that, how do you feel about Will?”

  “I trusted him then. I still do. He only did what I agreed to. Gentleman always. Never hurt anyone. Except in battle. He saved more than he harmed,” she said.

  “Thank you, agent Pozarkova. I believe you. I’m certain this isn’t something you want talked about. I have to include it in my report. However, I will classify it as personal information obtained during the President's hosts' psychological evaluation.

  “Evaluation?” I asked, startled.

  “Yes. Masters in Psychology, academic focus. I joined the service as an analyst and they eventually offered me this job. And I enjoy the travel I get to do with the job.” This time, he smiled.

  “Both passed my assessments,” he said. We nodded, relieved.

  “One more thing,” he added. “The usual protocol, when there could be an outdoor danger to the president, is to have counter sniper teams in position to protect her. I’d like to put one on your roof because they’ll be out of sight in the dark, and they’ll have a clear shot at the building across the street.”

  I looked at him. “Also watching the sides. If anyone’s a threat, they can stop it before she’s harmed. Extraction still possible. But she needs to know spawns can hurt, maybe kill her.”

  “She has to know, or it’s not real learning,” I emphasized. Phillips didn’t look happy. I ignored the other two.

  “Snipers shooting would reveal her identity anyway,” I continued. “People carrying weapons, including guns, are part of the fight. Realism is key. She needs this to be real, not staged.”

  “You said you were a marine. What’s the difference between training and combat?”

  “A hell of a lot,” he said, nodding. His glare softened. “Point taken. No one wants anything to happen to her.”

  “Learning to Heal or be healed in combat?”

  “Yes. That’s why she’s here.”

  “That means no untrained authority can interfere. So, no. I don’t give my permission for snipers on my roof even if it’s the best place for them.”

  Phillips’ glare came and went. “I’ll tell the director her safety’s covered by experienced personnel. I’ll inform my team to let events unfold as planned. I’ll be around until she leaves tomorrow.”

  He extended his hand. I shook it, stunned at his easy concession. He did the same with Blaze. The two agents finished their work and left through the patio door. He followed them.

  Blaze and I just stared at each other after they were gone.

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