The Turn: The Hollows Begins With Death

by Kim Harrison

  “And you know this how?” Sid said as he got off his chair and faced her.

  “Ixnay on the objay,” Quen muttered.

  People were dying. She couldn’t stop it, but she could help. Even so, a little lie wouldn’t hurt. “My husband works for the government,” she said. “He said the virus only affects humans.”

  “Does this look like nothing?” a frightened vampire said as he pushed up his shirtsleeve to show red pustules.

  “It’s okay,” she said as everyone but his family moved away from him. “It’s not contagious. It’s a toxic reaction, not a disease.” But then she started, lips closing as Sid approached, his hands aggressively on his hips.

  “I saw you on TV,” he said, his eyes on her necklace. “You work at Global Genetics.”

  Quen grimaced, his hands clenching on the table. “Way to go, Trisk.”

  Flustered, she gripped the double helix to hide it. “Listen. It’s in the tomatoes,” she said, but it was getting noisy. “Don’t eat them, and you won’t get sick. Humans, either.”

  “Time to go.” Quen stood. In the back, the vampires had gotten to their feet, murderous expressions on their faces as they found someone to blame for their fear.

  “You made the tomatoes. You did this!” Sid shouted, and Quen pushed forward, getting between him and the table so Daniel and Trisk could slide out. “You damn elves think you’re better than everyone!” Sid shouted, eyes bright with zeal as people backed him up. “You’re trying to kill everyone but the elves, aren’t you!”

  “No!” Trisk exclaimed when Quen grabbed her arm and dragged her to the door.

  “Get them!” came a shout. “If we turn them in, the government might help us.”

  “There is no medicine for this,” Trisk said as she jerked out of Quen’s grip. “It’s not supposed to kill anyone. Will you listen? We’re trying to help.”

  “Stop them!” Sid shouted, and Trisk gasped when an ugly, strong hand gripped her wrist.

  “Hey! Let go!” she said, jolting the man with a flash of ley line energy. He fell back, eyes wide, but it only made things worse. As a mob, they came forward, their fear spilling into action.

  “Plan B!” Quen pushed her and Daniel toward the door. “Fire in the hole!” he exclaimed.

  Trisk dropped, yanking Daniel to the ground with her. Breath held, she snapped a protection bubble over them. Someone beat on it, once, twice, three times, his face ugly.

  And then Quen opened the gates of hell.

  “Dilatare!” he shouted, and Trisk cowered at the heavy bang of air slamming everyone toward the walls. It was a white spell, but the quickly expanding bubble of air could do a lot of damage in an enclosed space. People pinwheeled back, tables slid, and plates crashed to the floor as cries of fear rang out. Then it was quiet. Someone said “Ow” and then a moan of pain rose.

  “Let’s go,” she whispered. Finding Daniel’s cold hand, she stood. Her bubble shivered to nothing as she touched it. Around her, people groaned as they picked themselves up. A large open space surrounded Quen, the tables shoved to the edges and tangled with broken plates and spilled food.

  “Out.” His expression angry, Quen pushed them to the door. Trisk went, still dragging Daniel, his neck craned to look back over his shoulder at the destruction. They hit the sun-drenched sidewalk together, stumbling as Quen shoved them toward the police station. Behind them, shouts became loud, confused at first, then angry.

  “Plan B?” Daniel questioned, still trying to get his feet under him.

  Trisk tightened her grip on his arm. “Quen and I always paired up in defense class.”

  Behind them, the first people spilled out of the diner, pointing as they caught sight of them. “Can you make us invisible?” Daniel asked, and Quen yanked them into an alley, his expression grim. “Forget I said that,” Daniel panted, breathless as they were forced into a run.

  The damp walls rose up tight and tall around them, the sound of their steps out of sync and somehow threatening: Quen’s slow, solid thumps, her rapid patter, and Daniel’s hesitant gait. A brighter light beckoned at the other end of the alley. Trisk had no idea where it led, but it didn’t matter, and the first real fear slid through her. They had nowhere to run to.

  “I’m not going back to that jail,” Quen muttered when they reached the end.

  “Where are we going?” Trisk asked, and Quen yanked Daniel back as the man looked out.

  “Anywhere they aren’t. Keep moving.”

  Quen’s hand on the small of her back jostled her forward, but she hesitated, head going up at a familiar clatter. “Quen, wait,” she said as the bright silver dust of a pixy caught the light. “Orchid!” she shouted, and the tiny woman did a quick stop.

  She stared at them for a moment, the dust slipping from her shifting to a muted gold, then back to silver. Trisk shrugged at the woman’s irate look, and then Orchid zipped off. Slowly her dust shifted into a sunbeam and was gone.

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Daniel said, and then the people from the diner found them, spilling into the far end of the alley in an angry mob.

  “That is a bad thing,” Quen said, pulling them out into the street.

  Again they ran, and the crowd’s noise redoubled. Memories tumbled over each other, shoved to the front of her head: memories of torment, of running from classmates, of being pinned down and having worms draped over her until she beat them off, of sitting outside the principal’s office, punished for using magic when her tormentors got off with a token wrist slap.

  “They’re catching up,” Daniel panted as he pounded the pavement beside her, and she readied herself, drawing on the nearest ley line to defend herself as best she could against a mob of vampires, witches, and Weres.

  But then her heart stuttered when the roar of an engine rolled over them, and with a pebble-popping wave of heat, Kal’s Mustang rocked to a halt beside them. The top was open, his almost-white hair shining in the sun. “Get in!” Orchid chimed out as she flew over them, urging them to hurry.

  Daniel cried out in relief, surging ahead to close the twenty feet between them. Quen, though, slid to a halt, his lips pressed into a thin, angry line. “Are you kidding me?” Trisk said, grabbing his bicep to drag him forward. “It’s a ride. Let’s go!”

  Quen didn’t move, and Trisk stumbled, catching her balance. “I’m not getting in a car with him,” Quen said tightly. “He tampered with your work, ruined it.”

  Save me from fools and male egos. “Fine. You want to stay here?” she said, pulling the hair from her eyes as she glanced at the oncoming mob now shouting obscenities.

  Eyes narrowed, Quen looked at Kal impatiently revving the Mustang’s engine. Daniel was in the back, arm stretched, reaching for Trisk. “We don’t know if this was Kal’s fault or not,” she said, and Quen grimaced.

  But finally he moved, and Trisk exhaled in relief. “It is,” he muttered as he lifted her up and set her in the back beside Daniel. “And you know it.”

  She did, but Kal had a car, and there was an angry mob behind them.

  “Get in! Get in!” Orchid shrilled, and Quen calmly went around the front of the car, vaulting into the front passenger side even as Orchid slipped under Kal’s hat and the man floored the accelerator. They took off in a cloud of dust, spitting pebbles at the people chasing them.

  Trisk turned, watching their instinctive, collective cower become rage and a shout to get to their cars. They weren’t out of this yet, and they’d been lucky that it was so ingrained not to use magic openly. It wouldn’t happen a second time.

  Tense, she held the seat ahead of her as they jostled back to the interstate. Kal drove confidently, one hand on the wheel, the sun on his face and his expression stoic as he concentrated on the road. The thought flashed through her that he looked amazing . . . and then she quashed it. Quen’s neck was red, the man holding firm even when Kal took a tight turn to run parallel to a railroad track. A slow-moving train was on it, and Kal raced down its length, lo
oking for the engine and a chance to cross and be gone.

  “Where are we going?” she called out over the wind, and Kal turned to her. There were little red marks on his neck as if from fingernails.

  “Does it matter?” Kal said, and Quen’s expression stiffened.

  “It does to me,” Quen said. “You tampered with Plank’s virus. You created a bridge between it and Trisk’s tomato. This is your fault.”

  Kal took his foot off the accelerator. The car came to a quick, head-bobbing halt right in the middle of the road. “Is that what you think I did?” he said, and Quen’s eyes narrowed.

  Daniel looked behind them, the click-click, click-click of the moving train an ominous metronome. “Uh, can this wait until we outdistance the mob with torches and pitchforks?”

  “You’re responsible, Kalamack,” Quen intoned. “And you will swing for it.”

  Kal’s lip twitched. “Get out.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Trisk scooted forward to push herself between the two men. Her pulse was fast, and she could feel both their energies prickling against hers. “We can do this later. Kal, drive. Please.”

  Kal’s eyes found hers. “Do you think I did this intentionally?”

  Trisk’s lips parted. She didn’t know if Kal knew her well enough to see a lie.

  Daniel stood up, hand on the car for balance. “They have cars, now. Can we go?”

  Kal’s eyes slid from Trisk, and she took a slow breath. “Not until he apologizes.”

  “Me?” Quen’s face reddened. “You threw the entirety of Inderland off balance and will be responsible for killing a quarter of the human population in the name of job advancement.”

  “Out. Now,” Kal insisted, and Trisk looked behind her to the plumes of dust racing toward them. Daniel slowly sat back, his expression frightened.

  “Stop it, both of you!” she said bitterly. “Kal, make this thing move or I’ll call your mother and tell her what you and I did in the barn last week. Quen, we don’t know it was Kal. I want to hear you say it.” Neither man looked at the other. “Now!” she yelled, and Kal twitched.

  “I have no proof that it was you,” Quen all but growled.

  Brow furrowed, Kal put the car back into drive, the click-click of the moving train lost in his angry peel-out. Trisk let the inertia push her back into the seat, where she stared at the backs of their heads. Beside her, Daniel heaved a relieved sigh. “I’m too much of a lab geek for this,” he whispered, but she heard it over the wind regardless.

  “It wasn’t me,” Kal said, still racing the train’s length. “It was Rick.”

  “Rick?” Quen spat. Trisk thought he was lying as well, but she was willing to overlook it—for the moment.

  “Why else would he commit suicide?” Kal said, his posture easing. “He said it himself. He’s not a geneticist. He tried to shift the Inderland balance for his master, make a few less humans so they could come out of the closet and safely enslave what was left, giving them a net increase. I don’t think an outright plague was what he had in mind, but watching him was why the enclave sent me.”

  Trisk’s eyes narrowed. Daniel, though, was nodding. “We thought you were here to stop Trisk’s patent transfer,” he said.

  Kal’s hands clenched on the wheel. “I was watching Rick. But you’re right. It’s my fault. I didn’t watch him well enough.”

  Lies, lies, lies, she thought, but he had a car, and once they joined Sa’han Ulbrine, Kal couldn’t hide behind them any longer. “We need to get to Detroit,” she said. “Once we prove the tomato is involved and how it’s functioning as a carrier, we can make a public announcement and end this.” She looked behind them at the town. “Or at least slow it down.”

  A shudder rippled over her despite the hot wind. There had been no one human left in Fallon except Daniel, and it had felt wrong, unsafe. There hadn’t been enough infrastructure to take care of their weaker kin or figure out what was going on and perhaps prevent some of the deaths. She only hoped it was different in the larger cities. Maybe things would be normal in Detroit.

  Quen was silent, a fisted hand to his mouth as similar thoughts probably skated through him. “How did you know where to look for us?” he asked, and Kal lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

  “I ran into Rick’s master,” Kal said uncomfortably. “He said he tried to kill you in Fallon but wasn’t sure he had succeeded. I had to know for sure.”

  “We can’t drive all the way to Detroit,” Daniel said. “They are following.”

  “That’s why we aren’t.” Glancing at the slowly moving train, Kal slid his car onto the narrow shoulder and stopped. “We’re taking the train,” Kal said with a grand gesture, and Quen scoffed, the soft sound obvious in the still air.

  “You mean this train? Right here?” Trisk asked, the creeping cars suddenly looking faster now that she was faced with possibly trying to jump onto one. “It’s a freight train.”

  “You and Plank will be recognized if you try to take a passenger train,” Kal said as he got out of the car. “The schedules are pretty simple. It’s going east. We get off at Detroit. QED.”

  Quite easily done? Trisk thought sourly, but Daniel’s eyes were pinched in concern as he looked behind them to the growing plumes of dust. Their pursuers hadn’t given up. “This could work,” he said as he gave Trisk’s hand a squeeze and opened his door. “The trains run right into the edge of the city. They won’t shut them down, not in the middle of the desert. It only takes a few people to move thousands of tons of product.”

  Nervous, she looked at the handholds on the passing cars, wincing. “Fine,” she breathed. “We take the train. Just one problem. If those wackos find the car here, they’ll know where we’re going. One call, and they’ll be waiting for us.”

  “It’s a risk, yes,” Kal said as he watched the passing cars, presumably looking for a suitable one.

  “One we don’t have to take.” Quen stepped between Kal and the moving train. “Keys. I’ll lead them away.”

  “What? No!” Trisk exclaimed, scrambling out of the car. “Quen, no.”

  Face expressionless, Kal took his keys out of his pocket.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Daniel said, clearly loath to put their trust in Kal.

  But Quen’s jaw was set. “Get to Detroit,” he said, moving Trisk toward the train. “Do what you need to do. I’ll find you. I promise. I’m not a geneticist. You don’t need me there.”

  “I need you there,” she protested, but he had turned to Kal.

  “If you hurt her, I will find you. Understand?” he said, and Kal’s expression went stiff. “Now, next week, next year, forever.”

  “I’m not leaving you here to get caught by those butchers,” she said, then gasped when Quen picked her up, heaving her into a slowly moving car. “Quen!” Scrambling, she righted herself, her hands feeling the rough floor as she crawled to the open door. “Damn it, Quen!”

  Her eyes widened, and she flung herself out of the way as Daniel half scrambled, half fell into the car. Kal was next, his stumbling lurch looking almost graceful.

  “You are unbelievable,” she said, pushing around him to get to the door. “Let go. Let go!” she shouted, but Kal’s grip on her arm only tightened. “I said . . . let go,” she intoned, letting the barest hint of ley line energy slip from her to him.

  Lips twisting, Kal released her arm.

  Her eyes had almost adjusted to the dimmer light, and she squinted when she staggered into the doorway and looked back at the car. They’d moved far more than she would have expected, and her heart dropped.

  “Quen!” She sat down to slip off. He was already in the car, not even looking back.

  A thin hand landed on her shoulder, and her first impulse to hit Kal faltered when she realized it was Daniel. His eyes were pinched in heartache behind his dirty glasses, giving her pause. “Let him go,” he whispered, and she took a breath to protest. “Trisk.” Daniel crouched beside her, his hand never leaving her shoulder. “He’s inf
ected. Let him go.”

  Infected? Trisk’s breath seemed to go stale in her, and she exhaled. She sucked in the air, but the dry heat had robbed it of any oxygen. His neck had been flushed. Had it been the beginnings of a rash and she hadn’t realized it?

  “No,” she whispered, leaning to look out again, but he was gone, heading out into the desert like an old cat to die. “No,” she said again, spinning where she sat, lurching awkwardly to her feet to move to the other side of the car. But she couldn’t see him from there, either, and she closed her eyes, letting her head thump against the hard wood. Why hadn’t he said anything?

  But the answer was obvious. She would have stayed to see him through it, slowing her down and possibly resulting in never getting the word out about how the virus was spreading.

  The rumble of movement vibrated into her. She took a breath, then another. Somehow she kept breathing. Daniel was still holding her elbow, and she tugged free of him. “I won’t jump out,” she said, and he rocked back, awkward and unsure.

  “Trisk, come over here out of the wind,” Kal said, but she didn’t move, refusing to let him see the depth of her pain. Quen would be okay—if he could slip Fallon’s population, hell-bent on retribution. He was only 6 percent human. He’d survive. Please, God. Let him survive.

  “Come out of the wind, Trisk,” Daniel said, and she numbly let herself be led to a pile of blankets. It was only then that she realized they were not alone. Two families, human by the look of it, were huddled on the other side of the boxcar between pallets of goods headed east.

  They had to have come from Reno, and as Trisk tried to smile at the little girl watching her with wide, frightened eyes, she wondered if anyplace was safe.

  23

  Trisk sat with her shoulder against the open door, her legs stretched out before the edge. She’d braided her hair back, and the stray strands tickled her neck. It was cold now that the sun was down, but the air was decidedly fresher at the edge, and she could ignore for a moment the awful truth being played out in the dark boxcar behind her.