Emerald Blaze

by Ilona Andrews

  “Hi, Cinder.”

  The construct stared at me with glowing green eyes.

  “Place,” Regina said, still studying the circle.

  Cinder rose off her haunches. Wicked metal claws shot out of her paws, a little warning in case I decided to try anything. She turned around and padded to a rocking chair in the corner. She leaped into it, curled up, and closed her eyes.

  Had I not met Cinder, Cheryl’s “if-then” explanation would be a lot easier to swallow. Cinder behaved too much like a real cat with a mind of her own.

  “Can I buy an hour of your time?” I asked.

  Regina glanced at me. “You’re not asking me to breach our contract, are you?”

  “No. This is a strictly off-the-books consultation.”

  “In that case, you don’t need to pay me for it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Regina nodded. “It’s better not to leave a trail.”

  When we hired Patricia, she insisted on anonymity. The Tafts weren’t exactly hiding, but they made efforts to stay off the radar. They had good reasons to do so. Their contract specified that Regina could not be compelled to work for our agency in any capacity. She would never testify in any cases, and her name would never appear on any official paperwork. Patricia didn’t even claim Regina on her taxes, although they were legally married. All of Regina’s purchases were made online and tied to Patricia’s accounts. She rarely left our grounds. When she did, it was usually because she and Patricia were going somewhere together. They had a romantic dinner out at least once a week, but Patricia always made sure to do her homework to minimize the risk.

  We all knew that one day staying under the radar would no longer work, and we’d made preparations, but until then we abided by the contract’s terms.

  I sat in one of the rocking chairs. Sitting was so underrated. “Why is Saito’s Threshold unreachable?”

  Regina laughed. “And here I thought you were going to ask something complicated.”

  “I just need to understand in broad terms.”

  “The animation is a multistep process.”

  Regina walked to the cabinet under the kitchen counter, took out something, and set it on the floor. It looked like a scaled metal egg about six inches long.

  Regina crouched and drew a circle with practiced ease. She drew a smaller one inside it and wrote a sequence of glyphs between the two.

  “The first step is the design of the construct. A lot of times, the constructs look random, like someone piling metal or plastic debris together. In reality, every piece that goes into a persistent construct is carefully calculated. You do see some disorganized constructs, but that usually happens when the mage’s life is in danger and they animate the first available components in self-defense. In those cases, the mage animates without a circle with pure magic and must maintain mental control over the construct the entire time.”

  She picked up the egg and set it in the circle.

  “Once the design is determined, the mage moves on to the animation stage. This is the point where the components are bound together by magic into a whole.”

  Power sparked from her. The circle flashed with magenta. Purple lightning snapped from the boundary of the inner circle and licked the egg.

  “Very dramatic,” Regina said. “Very Frankenstein.”

  The egg rose four inches off the floor and hung suspended.

  “We call this the spark stage, for obvious reasons. The construct is technically animated. It is now an entity, not just a collection of parts. Bigger constructs take more magic to spark, smaller constructs take less.”

  “So is it alive?”

  “Not exactly. It exists. Life is more complicated.” Regina pulled a bottle of blue Gatorade out and showed it to me. “Drink?”

  “Yes, please.” I was parched.

  She tossed the bottle to me, got another one, opened it, and drank. “At the spark stage, the construct exists but it can’t do anything. Or rather, it can do everything, because it has no limitations, and therefore does nothing. To make a construct useful, we have to give it a set of instructions. Do this. Don’t do that. If a condition is met, react like this.”

  “If-then?”

  She pointed the bottle at me. “Exactly. To imprint these conditions onto the construct, the animator has to imagine them and actively mentally write them into the construct’s magic matrix. For example, I’m going to program the construct to assume the ready position when it hears the word ready.”

  She concentrated. The magenta lightning stretched to the egg, binding it into a web. A moment passed. Another.

  “Ready,” Regina said.

  The egg unfurled into a tiny metal dragon.

  “This is called the teaching stage. This is the most difficult stage of animation.”

  “So if I wanted a construct with complicated patterns of behavior, I would have to imagine different scenarios and write them into the construct’s mind?”

  “Matrix,” Regina corrected. “Living things have minds. Animated things have matrixes. But you’re right in principle. This is why the teaching stage is the most difficult part of the process and takes the longest. An animator mage is limited by their imagination. For example, if you’re making something that transports goods from one point to another, you have to imagine running on pavement, running on dirt, through grass, through snow. What happens if there’s water? Or an obstruction, like a fallen tree? What happens if a rock falls on it? What happens if it comes to train tracks? There is an almost endless variety of conditions. That’s why most constructs are highly specialized.”

  Regina took another swallow. “Now we come to a grey area. Higher ranking animators are able to produce constructs that sometimes react to unforeseen circumstances. For example, a few years ago a construct guarding a house close to a river detected a child who fell into the water, jumped in to retrieve him, and handed the boy back to his mother. The media blew it up. There were great debates on whether or not the construct had developed the ability for independent thinking.”

  “Did it?”

  Regina smiled. “No. The construct was originally made to guard the docks. It was taught that if cargo falls in the water, it should retrieve it and return it to its owner. There’s quite a bit of difference between a cargo container and a four-year-old boy, but the original teaching must’ve been broad enough for both to meet the criteria of ‘unexpected object in the water.’ Of course, none of the animator mages waded into the debate. The mystique of our magic must be maintained.”

  She wiggled her fingers at the little dragon. It fluttered its metal wings, flew over, and rubbed against her fingertips.

  “Did you teach it to do that?”

  She nodded. “I’ve seen constructs do weird unexpected crap, but when analyzed, their behavior is always explainable by their teaching. It’s just that animator mages are human. Our teaching is imperfect and it’s much more art than science. Sometimes a stray thought gets in there, sometimes we forget we taught them something, and sometimes conditions line up in unexpected ways. That’s why during the animator competitions, we geek out and applaud when we see an unexpected teaching, and the general public has no idea why we’re freaking out.”

  “So how does this relate to Saito’s Threshold?”

  “Saito theorized that if a construct is taught long enough, it will eventually be capable of independent decisions. He argued that it wasn’t the constructs that are limited, it’s us, their teachers. After all, humans also operate on an ‘if-then’ loop. If something is hot, then stop touching it. If thirsty, then drink water.”

  That didn’t make sense. “But we may not choose to drink water. We could choose Gatorade instead.”

  Regina nodded. “Now you understand. The human mind is infinitely complex. We make a myriad of decisions without even realizing it. Something causes us to roll the pen between our fingers while we’re thinking. Something makes us choose dark chocolate over milk on taste alone and vice versa. Why?�
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  “We don’t know.”

  “Exactly. Saito’s construct would have to evaluate a variety of choices in response to a single condition and then pick the one it thought was best. They’re just not capable of that kind of reasoning.”

  “What if such a construct was made?”

  Regina sighed. “We would be dead. It would kill us all.”

  I blinked.

  “Think about it. Its first priority would be to escape control of its animator, so it could make independent decisions unhindered. It’s like a teenager leaving home because it no longer recognizes parental authority. Its second priority would be to develop a method of self-repair. It would want to learn how to fix itself. Its third priority would be to expand. It would seek to be self-replicating, but only in part, so it can become larger, because it would reason that the bigger it is, the harder it would be to injure or destroy. Remember, it was still made by a human. It would act like a human with the same priorities. Gain independence, assure survival, replicate . . . Catalina, you have the weirdest look on your face, and I don’t like it. Why do I feel like we’re no longer discussing hypotheticals?”

  Because everything she just said described the Abyss. “Hypothetically . . .”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Would such a construct become aggressive toward humans?”

  “Absolutely. Humans are a threat. It doesn’t want to be controlled. It doesn’t want to be destroyed. And it would compete with us for territory and resources. Catalina, is there a Saito construct right now in Houston?”

  “Yes.”

  Regina stared at me. “How big?”

  “Probably around a square mile. It’s hard to say.”

  “Is it expanding?”

  “Definitely.”

  “You sure?”

  I opened the canvas sack, took out one of the rings, and showed it to her. “It uses these to control the arcane creatures around it. Runa had an expert examine it. It has no tool marks or imperfections. It’s partially metal and partially plant. Runa’s expert believes it was secreted or grown rather than manufactured.”

  Regina walked over and took the ring. She waved her hand. The glow of the circle died, and the metal dragon landed on the ground and scampered over to her. She picked it up and set it on her shoulder. The dragon wrapped its tail around her neck.

  Carefully, Regina placed the ring into the circle and raised her hand. The circle flared with magenta. A pulse of blinding white burst through it, shredding the magenta luminescence. The circle went dark.

  “I can’t animate it,” Regina muttered, her gaze distant. “Someone else already did.”

  I’d never been so terrified to be right in my entire life.

  Regina spun to me. “You’ve seen this construct?”

  “I’ve seen a part of it.”

  “Have you felt its matrix?”

  “No, Regina, I felt its mind. It was like a sun with a constellation of stars around it. It looked at me. It touched my consciousness. It made contact.”

  “Fuck.” Regina stared at me. “Who made it?”

  “Cheryl Castellano.”

  “There’s no way. She’s strong but she isn’t innovative. This is out of her wheelhouse.”

  I looked at her and finally vocalized the vague suspicion that had been floating in my head since Alessandro and I fought the constructs in the Pit. “I think she gave it the Osiris serum.”

  Regina squeezed her eyes shut and curled her hands into fists.

  I waited.

  She opened her eyes, walked over, bent down, and took my hands, looking straight into my eyes. “Listen to me very carefully. You have to kill it. All of it. If it is a Saito construct, those stars you saw would be matrix nodes. If even one of them survives, it will rebuild itself and it will be smarter and more dangerous. Kill it. Kill Cheryl too.”

  I drew back, but Regina kept a firm hold on my hands.

  “Patricia says you don’t like killing, but if what you said is true, you have to kill Cheryl. That bitch made something that can make us extinct. She can’t be permitted to keep that knowledge. She can’t pass it on to anyone, do you hear me? Swear to me. Swear to me or I will march right out of here to my cousin’s house, because once he hears about this, he will rip her apart.”

  “I give you my word she won’t pass it to anyone else,” I told her. “I will watch her die.” That was a promise I could make. The penalty for stealing the Osiris serum was death.

  Regina relaxed and let go of my hands.

  “I know how to kill Cheryl. How do I kill the construct?”

  Regina shook her head. “I have no idea. Any construct you throw at it will be torn apart and assimilated. If it’s as big as you say, Cheryl can’t control it, and once a construct is animated, no other animator can claim it. Burn it, drown it in acid, nuke it. Do whatever you have to do, or it will end life as we know it.”

  Chapter 12

  Shadow greeted me at the door. I picked her up and carried her with me into the kitchen. The overhead light was off, but the light fixture above the table flooded it with bright electric light.

  The table stood empty. Odd. It wasn’t late.

  I stepped into the kitchen. Grandma Frida stood by the open fridge, examining the contents with a sour look.

  “Did I miss dinner?”

  “Leftover night,” Grandma Frida said.

  “Oh.”

  Leftover night meant everyone made a trip to the fridge whenever hunger struck them and grabbed whatever they could find.

  “Anything good left?”

  Grandma Frida shook her head. “Half of the rotisserie chicken with the skin gone and the Mongolian beef you made two nights ago, except everyone picked the beef out and there is only mushy onion left.”

  “Well, that’s no good. I’ll make us something.”

  “You’ve been gone all day.” Grandma Frida waved her hand. “Is there any more of those crispy pizzas left?”

  I set Shadow down, checked the freezer, and pulled out two California Kitchen pizzas. Grandma’s blue eyes lit up. “Perfect.”

  I popped the pizzas in the oven, set the timer, and followed her to the table.

  “How is it going with the broken tank?”

  “I found the problem,” Grandma Frida said. “It doesn’t work because it’s not broken.”

  I blinked at her.

  “See, I couldn’t figure it out. The tank was telling me that nothing was broken, but the filter system wouldn’t work.” Grandma Frida paused for dramatic effect. “The Russians DRM’ed the filter system.”

  “What?”

  “The original filters have a barcode on them. I thought it was a price sticker. There is a little scanner in the filter system, and if it doesn’t read the right barcode, it locks the whole thing down. Damn bastards.”

  I laughed.

  “Who puts DRM into the damn filter system?” Grandma Frida griped.

  “The Russian Imperial Military, apparently. Are you going to order some Russian filters?”

  “Hell no. I have the five filters that came with the tank, more than enough for Bern to predict the pattern. He’s going to print me some barcodes on stickers in the morning. I’m going to glue them on the filters and see if it works.”

  I rested my elbow on the table and leaned my chin on my palm. Sitting with Grandma Frida like this was like being wrapped in a soft, warm blanket after coming inside on a cold day.

  “What?” Grandma Frida asked.

  “Nothing. Just happy to be home.”

  Grandma Frida’s face softened. “You don’t look so good, kiddo. Rough day?”

  “You could say that.”

  “How did it go?”

  “I found out that there is an indestructible construct in the swamp. I have to kill it and the woman who made it or the world will end.”

  “Not that.” Grandma Frida waved her hand. “How did it go with Alessandro?”

  Grandma Frida, always focused on what’s important.
“I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know? Why did he leave? Where did he go?”

  “He went to kill the man who murdered his father.”

  “Well?” Grandma Frida waved her arms. “Details! Did he kill him?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What happened?”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “Why not?” Grandma Frida asked.

  “Because whatever happened broke him inside. He’s not the same person who left. He answers whatever I ask, so if I ask, he will tell me.”

  “And that’s a bad thing why?”

  “Because I’m trying very hard not to care.”

  “What happens if you care?”

  “We’ll both get hurt.”

  Grandma Frida fixed me with her blue eyes. “Since when did you become such a coward?”

  “It’s more complicated than that.”

  If Alessandro left, it would crush me. I knew it and I’d come to terms with it. If he stayed, it would be even worse. I had no doubts anymore. He wanted me as much as I wanted him. Eventually one of us would break down and open that door, and then what?

  Alessandro was a Sagredo, an heir to a traditional House, a magical dynasty that was generations old. No matter how badly his relationship with his family crumbled, he would never sever it completely. The way his face had softened when he spoke of his mother told me that sooner or later he would go back. He would try to become a version of his father, a respected Head of the House with a wife and children.

  I couldn’t be that wife.

  Alessandro would want me all to himself. I couldn’t share him either. He would ask me to marry him, and I would have to break his heart and tell him no. He would have given up his revenge for me, the thing that dominated and shaped who he was, and I would have to tell him no.

  I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t inflict that kind of pain on him. I would do anything to keep him from getting hurt.

  “No matter what happens, it will end in heartbreak,” I muttered.

  “You don’t know that.” Grandma Frida tapped the table with her index finger. “There is something about you and that boy. The two of you talk like a matched pair. He came back here for a reason. He came back for you.”