Witch-Blood

by Ash Fitzsimmons

  “You think Moyna’s intercepting?” I asked. “And…wait, Harrison? I thought the grand magus had been dismissed.”

  “Funny thing about that. Seems no one on the Council wanted to take the reins when Moyna showed up. There was a minor populist uprising, you might say—he’s back in office for now, whether the Council likes it or not. As for Moyna”—she shrugged—“hard to tell. But in case she’s eavesdropping, we figured that most of her people predate Morse code and never had a need to learn it…and to be safe, we keep changing languages.” She pointed to a pin-up calendar on the table, a giveaway from the gas station down the road featuring pictures of vintage cars. “Random number generator selected the roster, and we have a different one than the silo. They’ve got enough bilingual folks underground, and we’ve got the entire Fringe network to do the translating for us. It’s not Enigma, but it’s the best we came up with in this particular pinch.” She turned to Rick and whispered, “What’s the outgoing today?”

  “Russian,” he replied with a grimace. “Incoming is English, thank heavens, but I’m going to have to run everything through the Bear.”

  “Skip it,” she said, taking a notepad from the table. “Just send it as-is—no sense in delaying.”

  I looked over her shoulder as she scrawled out a message for Vivi: Boys came back. C alive, O dead, A in charge for now. Awaiting backup.

  Toula caught me watching her and handed the notepad to Rick. “The tech team’s been invaluable,” she whispered, leading me out of the room and quietly shutting the door. “They have a rotation of four-hour shifts lined up—we’ve got a dozen Fringers lurking around here to handle communications and equipment issues.”

  “You couldn’t just call the silo?” I asked.

  “Believe me, we tried, but with all of the activated magic in the area, we barely got more than static. The Fringe setup is extraordinary, really,” she continued, heading back toward the front of the building. “The hacker nerds did their bit up top, and the few in the group who had any magical abilities actually put a repulsive net around the silo’s underground cables. The mesh is bits of enchantment and spellcraft working in parallel—and I’ve been patching it, of course,” she added, opening a door into what appeared to be a conference room. “Rufus, Harry, and Ned have had their hands full, and your sister has been playing substitute grand magus for weeks.”

  I pulled up a chair to the polished mahogany table and rested my head on my good hand, realizing for the first time that day just how exhausted I was. “They’re actually following Hel?” I mumbled.

  A mug of something that smelled like strong Kona appeared in front of me, and Toula grinned as my fingers found the handle. “Everyone knows she’s Greg’s choice. They’re just taking the training wheels off early, since he can’t do much from inside the silo. Girl knows the players,” she said, sliding into the chair beside me. “She’s on speaking terms with the top brass at each of the installations, which is a hell of a lot more than any of the brass can say. And the Fringe is willing to work with her. She’s young, sure, but all things considered, there wasn’t a better choice.” Toula plucked a cup of lemon tea from the air and sipped. “Council’s going to have a lot of explaining to do when all’s said and done—I mean, you don’t just put warrants out like that. Not on someone like her.”

  “And you?”

  She smirked. “I can take care of myself. But if things get a little hairy, you wouldn’t mind if I crashed at your place for a while, eh?”

  “The realm would get over it.”

  “You’ve got the voice in your head now, too?”

  I nodded, fighting the urge to fall asleep on the table. “She can be helpful.”

  “I’m sure. Want a nap, bud?”

  “Maybe.”

  Toula snorted and stood. “Come on,” she said, grabbing me under the arms, “there’s a bed with your name on it upstairs. I’m sure we can last another hour without you.”

  CHAPTER 18

  * * *

  I don’t remember actually leaving the conference room or falling asleep, but the next time I opened my eyes, I was horizontal and warm, burrowed under the blankets in a dark bedroom, and the linens smelled like an artificial mountain meadow. My hand still ached—and I was beginning to suspect that it would hurt for some time—but the rest of me seemed to be intact on first inspection, and I risked sitting up in bed to find out how long I’d been unconscious.

  “Rest,” said my sister, pushing me back toward the pillows. “Don’t make me break out the sleeping spell on you, too.”

  She materialized from the shadows as my eyes remembered how to focus in the dark. “Wha—”

  “Rest, Aid,” she insisted.

  I gave in and flopped backward, and she pulled a chair close to the bed. “Both of you are cut and banged up to pieces,” said Hel. “Joey’s arm is still mending—it’s almost there, but it’s kind of soft—and I have no idea what to do with you, so do us all a favor and don’t move for a little while, okay?”

  I sighed and looked up at her. “Hel, I’m really sorry.”

  “Yeah, well,” she muttered, “the next time you sneak off and give me a heart attack, maybe drop me some warning in advance, huh? I’d tell you what I told Joey,” she continued, folding her arms, “but shouting in the sleeping wing is frowned upon.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I could just make out her shrug in the low light. “And you heard what I said. You’re my brother—I don’t care what else you might be.”

  “Your job—”

  “Aid,” she said, smoothing my dirty hair out of my eyes, “I’ve been holding this operation together since October. That alone should qualify me to be grand magus, and you have nothing to do with it. Besides,” she added, settling back in her chair, “the magi have known about you all along. This shouldn’t come as a shock.”

  “He left me in charge of the court.”

  “And he and I going to have a nice, long, possibly even civil chat about that once he’s feeling himself again, but in the meantime, do what you need to do. Try not to kill anyone unnecessarily.” Hel crossed her legs and grunted. “I can’t exactly blame you. I mean, if someone offered me loads of power and eternal youth, I’d be tempted.”

  “But you wouldn’t take it,” I mumbled.

  “Hypothetically? Tough call.”

  “Huh?”

  “You sound surprised,” she said dryly, and her chair creaked as she shifted position. “Think about it. Someone offers you massive power and virtual immortality, and the only condition is dumping your silver jewelry? I mean, that’s a pretty sweet deal.”

  I was momentarily lost for words, but managed, “You’re going to be the grand magus—”

  “And I still think it’s objectively sweet. Aside from the whole thing about court allegiance and having to put up with sociopaths every day, but still. Most folks could make it work, I imagine.” She leaned toward me and lowered her voice to a soft murmur. “I think we both know that deep down, there’s a little jealousy involved where the Arcanum is concerned. Well, that, plus millennia of putting up with the mess that leaks out of Faerie, but you see what I’m saying. Look, the bottom line is that I…you know, I think you made the right choice, Aid.”

  I found her hand in the dark, and she squeezed back.

  “Seeing as Dad has already disowned me,” I said, “maybe this won’t be such a big deal to him if it doesn’t get you fired.”

  Hel snorted her disdain. “He can disown you all he wants, but at the end of the day, every magus in the Arcanum knows that his son’s a high lord—or what is it now? Substitute king?”

  “Lord regent, I think. That’s what the realm was suggesting, anyway.”

  “Whatever.” She stood and ground her knuckles against my head until I swatted her away. “Take it easy. Toula popped over to tell Val what’s going on, and she says he’s waiting on the signal. There’s no need to rush,” she added, heading for the door. “It’s Saturday, af
ter all. We don’t really get weekends around here, but since it’s just now getting light outside, I won’t hold it against you if you sleep in for a few minutes.”

  The next thing I knew, Rufus was shaking my shoulder and promising breakfast. “I know you’re hungry,” he said as I tried to roll away. “Up you go, Rick made pancakes, and there’s plenty left over. Or steaks, if you’re of that mind. Come on, now,” he said over my groans, “we’re wasting daylight.”

  “Hel said I could sleep,” I grumbled into the pillow.

  “That was four hours ago. The natives are restless.” He slipped back as I bolted upright, startled and disoriented, then pointed to the door. “Shower’s out there, food’s on the first floor. Rise and shine, kid.”

  I ran my good hand through the squirrel’s nest that had developed on top of my head and blearily watched as Rufus waited for me to give in and get up. “Joey—”

  “Is still sleeping, but he’s not the one with a waiting army. Now march,” he said, clearing a path to the door. “Go wash, clear the cobwebs—”

  “Disinfect the hand,” I mumbled, swinging my legs out of my warm cocoon.

  “Why bother? We’re immune. Just try not to get it too wet—I imagine that would sting,” he cautioned, following me into the hall. “Never had one that nasty before—Toula gave me the details,” he explained when I glanced his way in befuddlement. “Well, live and learn, eh?”

  “Sure,” I said through a yawn as I pushed my way into the bathroom.

  Rufus parked himself outside and continued to talk through the closed door. “They do call your brother the Ironhand, you know. Maybe it’s genetic.”

  I abandoned further conversation in favor of a hot shower, the first real one I’d had in days. After five minutes under the pounding water, I woke enough to take note of my surroundings. The fixtures were all brass, I realized as I peered through the steam, as were the towel racks, the sinks, and the door handle. My burned hand had stopped complaining quite so badly after the first shock of water, but the sharp twinges of pain and the constant flashes from the enchantment working around it served as a reminder of the night before.

  So this was life now. Metal substitutions and conferences with wizards and waiting armies and so many enchantments to make the world a more bearable or terrible place. I’d walked into this mess with open arms.

  I slowly flexed my hand, letting the water soften the blisters.

  I’d chosen this, and I could damn well make it work.

  I shut the water off, forgoing a shampoo, and willed myself clean as I toweled dry. “Rufus?” I called through the door. “Still there?”

  “Well, I wasn’t going to leave you to wander around on your own,” he replied. “That was quick.”

  “Things to do.” I imagined boxers, a pair of jeans, and a decently thick sweater into existence and rubbed the water out of my hair, which had progressed far beyond shaggy in recent weeks and was well on its way to “eighties rocker.” After tying it back, I slid on a new pair of hiking boots, cleaned my teeth, and rejoined Rufus. “You mentioned food?”

  “I thought that might motivate you,” he said with a grin, and turned for the wide marble staircase. “Have you figured out how to make your own yet?”

  “It’s mediocre,” I admitted, trailing two steps behind him. “Either bland or off, you know?” I cut my eyes to an open door as we passed and spotted a Joey-sized lump on the bed, beside which Georgie had curled up and was snoring.

  “That’s a matter of practice,” Rufus replied, “and in the meanwhile, Rick is a respectable short-order cook. When he’s not helping Vivi, he’s usually near the kitchen.” We rounded the bend in the stairs, and I saw the warm lights of the foyer’s wall sconces below us. “Hal and Stuart help out,” he added, “but if you have the choice, go with Rick.”

  “They wouldn’t stay in Alaska, huh?”

  He looked over his shoulder and smirked. “I knew Hal was a lost cause. If Vivi sets up camp in a volcano, I expect Hal will be right behind her, lugging her gear up the mountain. And Stuart…”

  “Still Wizard Stu?”

  “He does his best. Toula’s sent him home a few times to deal with Eunice’s affairs and look after his cats, but he keeps coming back. Rather like herpes. Oh,” he hastened, “he’s not that bad—he’s actually been useful on occasion—but he knows he’s outclassed.”

  We reached the floor, and Rufus turned toward the smell of bacon. “Useful how, exactly?” I pressed. “Don’t tell me he’s really a wizard. I’ve seen some weird stuff of late, but I’ve got my limits, man.”

  “Of course he isn’t,” said Rufus as he sidestepped an abandoned tea cart. “But he sees things the rest of us miss. We’re wrapped up in the larger issue—he notices the mundane bits. The school, for instance.” He pushed the door open and swept his arm toward the covered dishes on the counter. “Eat up, don’t be shy. But the school—no one thought twice about it until Stuart asked what would happen when all the Arcanum kiddies suddenly stopped showing up for class.”

  I paused with my hand over the pile of cooling bacon. “Ooh, good point. What happened?”

  “Well, lucky for us, we caught the last days of fall break, so we had time to get our act together.” Rufus poured himself a cup of coffee and perched on a barstool beside the leftovers while I grazed. “Harrison was able to give us the specs on their students—names, ages, pictures, identifying details, you get the point. That was before we switched to Morse code, so he sent us batches of files. Spreadsheets. Wizards and their beloved data,” he muttered into his mug. “So Ned and Harry and I worked with Toula and Hel to make glamour constructs—illusory kids, if you will—and sent just enough to school each day to ward off suspicion. Suffice it to say that no one in the silo will be receiving a perfect attendance award this year.”

  “Wait,” I said through a mouthful of dry pancake, “you did what?”

  “Think of solid holograms, each with its own voice, memories, and personality,” he explained. “And the three of us sat at the controls of all of them. Some were easy—the shy kids, the sleepers—but the Arcanum has its share of social butterflies. One of the kids Ned was running was on the football team. I had to teach the old boy the rules,” he said, smiling to himself.

  “So you—”

  “Sneaked around the school invisibly until we had the basics down, then ran the constructs from here. It’s not fun,” he said. “Raging headaches. It’s like being in one of those security rooms, you know, the ones with a monitor for each of twenty cameras, only you have to concentrate on all twenty at once. We had a few close calls,” he admitted as I devoured my short stack. “But between that and the enchantments around our respective campsites, we haven’t had any casualties from concerned teachers and truant officers wandering around. A small victory, but I’ll take it. And there’s syrup in the cabinet, you know.”

  “Don’t care,” I mumbled. My stomach, having remembered that I was ravenous, couldn’t fill quickly enough.

  “As you like.” He sipped his coffee while I stuffed my face. “So, lord regent, was it?”

  “Mm-hmm,” I grunted as I chewed.

  “How’s it feel?”

  I looked around for something to cut the grease and dough, pulled a pitcher of orange juice out of the fridge, and drank at least a pint. “Weird,” I managed once I came up for air. “Kind of terrifying, actually, the more I think about it, so I’m not going there right now, okay?”

  Rufus chuckled, and the pitcher refilled as I put it away. “You’re what, sixteen?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, resuming my attack on the carbohydrates.

  “You haven’t even come of age, kid.” Pushing his mug aside, Rufus rested his elbows on the counter and watched me eat. “So who’s the regent for the regent, then?”

  I swallowed hard to clear the pancake and frowned. “Come again?”

  “I’m not suggesting that there needs to be a formal arrangement,” he continued, “but what did Coi
leán leave you in terms of a support network? Who’s left to guide you? No offense, I know you’re bright, but at least your sister has had some training in this area.”

  I thought over the familiar faces back in Faerie and shrugged. “Val, I guess. He’s the captain of Coileán’s guard—he’s not going to let me start a war.”

  “Toula’s brother, right? Half fae, older than dirt?” Rufus considered this for a moment, then nodded. “That could suffice.”

  I eyed him closely. “Why do you care, anyway? Not your court, not your problem.”

  “And that’s where you’re wrong,” he replied, cocking his mug at me. “Someone’s going to claim Oberon’s throne eventually. In case he’s insane, I”—he paused, choosing his words carefully—“I might want a backup plan. We all might.”

  “Allegiance shift?”

  He nodded. “And if, say, I were to swear fealty, would you offer protection? Or, more importantly, would Coileán?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  “Good to know.” He listened as a door in the distance slammed open, then pointed to the hallway from which we’d come. “Sounds like the Arcanum posse has arrived. Want to go say hello?”

  I wrinkled my nose and grabbed another handful of bacon. “Do I have to?”

  “Nah,” he replied with a shrug, “but then again, a unified front is a stronger front…”

  “Fine, I’m going,” I sighed, but I carried the bacon on a plate with me. If the magi weren’t impressed, I decided I wouldn’t really care.

  I found them in the foyer, a half-dozen senior wizards in robes and sweatpants and hunting gear, crowded around Hel and talking softly. “Hey,” I said when my boots rang on the bare marble, “Hel, did you eat? This is good stuff.”

  “And now your grubby paws are all over it,” said Hel. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Ready to get to work?”

  The assembled knot of magi stared at me, and an older woman with the crisp articulation of a Shakespearean actor peered up at me over her half-moon glasses. “My word,” she murmured, “Magus Carver, is that—”