by Kim Harrison
“What are you doing?” he asked, one hand going to his hat when she pushed it up and took to the air. “Orchid, it’s cold.”
The tiny woman frowned at him, almost no dust slipping from her as she held her arms about herself and shivered. “It’s not that bad,” she said impatiently. “I smell Were.”
Kal pulled back into the shadows, but Orchid was looking behind them, down the alley. Frowning, he pressed back tighter against the rough brick, feeling his back go cold. He held his breath as a silhouette of a man and what looked like an enormous dog hesitated at the far end.
“Shit,” Kal swore, wondering whether they’d been following him or if it was dumb luck.
“Stay here,” Orchid said, and his eyes widened when she shot straight up, her dust almost nonexistent as she vanished back the way they had come.
Immediately Kal’s attention dropped from the sunset-bright clouds to the pair of Weres. They were looking down the alley, and he suddenly felt naked without Orchid beside him. He held his breath when they spun at a loud shatter of glass . . . and then they ran off, following it and leaving him undetected.
He slumped in relief, his mood easing even more when Orchid arrowed down the long alley to him, shivering as she dropped right into his shirt pocket. “Oh, man, that wind is bitter,” she said, voice muffled, and Kal held his hand to his chest, trying to warm her even more.
“Thanks, Orchid,” he said, reluctant now to step out into the open street. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“That wasn’t me,” she said, her tiny body feeling like a cold stone against him. “We’re not the only ones skulking around, but we are the stealthiest.”
“Only because you’re so smart,” he said, eyeing the street for any movement. “I’m going to try that pharmacy,” he added as he inched out of cover. “If we’re lucky, they’ll have a working phone. If we’re really lucky, there’ll be something to eat.”
“I’m fine,” she said faintly, but he knew the short flight and the low temperature were taking their toll. If she got too cold, she’d fall into a torpor that might last until spring. Ideally he would wait until dark to move, but Orchid needed to eat, and he had to contact Ulbrine. The plague could not be allowed to be blamed on the elves.
He crossed the empty street, taking care to keep his feet from scuffing. Pulse fast, he stepped up onto the opposite curb, feeling as if he’d passed enemy lines somehow. Frowning, he eyed the broken window, deciding that no one could have gotten in that way, but then he tried the door and found out why. It was unlocked. With a last look at the street, he pulled the door open, reaching for the door chimes in a panic when they began to clink.
“Way to go, Kal,” Orchid muttered, and he slipped inside, breathing a sigh of relief when he looked out the glass door and saw no one.
“It’s warm,” he said, and Orchid pulled herself up, standing in his pocket to poke her head out the top. “I think the heat is on.”
“Thank God.” With a clatter of wings, Orchid levered herself out, hovering beside him as they looked over the conspicuous gaps on the shelves. The long counter with its swivel stools was strewn with straws, and a sticky syrup dripped from one of the nozzles behind it. Kal’s nose wrinkled at a sour smell, and he could guess why the place wasn’t entirely looted. “Oh, gross!” Orchid exclaimed as she darted behind the counter to sample the syrup, only to rise up with her fingers pinching her nose shut. “Kal, don’t come back here.”
“No problem.”
If there was a phone, it would be in the back, and Kal headed that way while Orchid enthusiastically stabbed a sugar packet left forgotten by a desiccated cup of coffee on the counter. Seeing her dust brightening made Kal feel marginally better, and he peered at a stale slice of chocolate cake decorated with Halloween ghosts under a glass dome. It looked okay, so he lifted the lid, crumbs spilling to the tile floor as he ate it. Feeling better, he continued to the back to find the offices.
“Kal, if I package up some of this frosting, will you carry it for me?” Orchid asked, her tiny voice somehow reaching him.
“You bet,” he called out, smiling as he found a phone in the first paper-strewn office. He knew Ulbrine’s number by memory, and the ratchet of the dial was familiar as he cycled through it. Listening to it ring, he felt himself relax; the decaying smell wasn’t as strong back here, either.
No one answered, and looking at his watch, he hung up and immediately dialed again, hoping that the practice of making two calls in quick succession—an age-old code for an emergency—would trigger a lingering secretary to pick it up. Sure enough, the line clicked open, and a terse voice said, “Sa’han Ulbrine’s office is currently closed. If this is an emergency—”
“It is,” Kal interrupted. “This is Dr. Kalamack. I’m calling long-distance, and I need the number where I can reach the Sa’han in Detroit.”
“I’m sorry,” the woman said, not sounding it at all. “He’s not in at the moment. I can take a message if you like.”
Kal pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Did I not just say he was in Detroit? “I know he’s not in,” he said patiently. “All I need is the number where I can reach him. I have information about the plague, and I need to talk to him.”
“Sir,” the woman said somewhat snidely, “I can’t give you the number where he is in Detroit, because Detroit is gone. Sa’han Ulbrine is unavailable, en route to Washington to give his deposition concerning his part in Detroit’s extirpation.”
Kal’s jaw dropped. Extirpation? he thought in shock, looking at Orchid as she darted in. Her pale gray dust gave evidence that she’d heard as well, her pixy hearing much better than even his. “Extirpation?” he said, the word feeling alien on his lips. “Why? What happened?”
“The fool witches broke the silence when those moronic vampires started taking witches as unwilling but healthy blood donors,” the woman said, the sound of shuffling papers in the background. “He was there, and the witches’ coven of moral and ethical standards asked him to help since they couldn’t get one of their members out there in time.”
“They destroyed an entire city?” Orchid whispered as she landed on a bookshelf full of smiling troll dolls, and Kal nodded, not believing it himself. The only other time that had happened was more than two thousand years ago. That was when they’d begun to self-police themselves.
“Do you want me to take a message?” the secretary said, clearly trying to get him off the phone. “He’s in transit to Chicago to meet with Dr. Cambri before shuttling to Washington and his court date.”
Because Trisk is here, he thought, but it was good to know some planes were still flying. “No,” he said, remembering the woman had asked him something. “I’m actually in Chicago myself. Where is he meeting Dr. Cambri? I’ll try to hook up with him here.”
“Just a minute.” There was a second or two of silence, and then a weary sigh. “The police station on Adams Street.”
“Thank you,” Kal said, immediately hanging up.
Orchid hovered before him, her dust pooling on the desk cluttered with papers and survival pamphlets. “The witches destroyed Detroit? They can do that?”
Kal nodded grimly, wondering if the dead man behind the counter had invested in a gun. “If it was their people who broke the silence, then they’d be required to, yes. From what I hear, Detroit was mostly humans and vampires.” He hesitated. “Do you smell cigarette smoke?”
Orchid’s eyes widened, and they both turned to the hall and the irate sound of someone clearing his throat. “And that there were no elves killed makes it right, then, doesn’t it?” a dry, sarcastic voice said as Saladan took a step into the doorway.
“Saladan!” Kal blurted. The tall man looked formidable in a black coat that ran all the way to the floor. His hat was pulled low over his short black hair, and a lit cigarette hung in his grip. His long face looked even longer with his thin lips in a frown.
“Damn it!” Orchid swore, rising up on a column of red dust
. “He snuck up on me again!”
“I can fix this,” Kal said, hand raised as he backed deeper into the office until he stumbled into the rolling chair. Saladan followed me? Halfway across the country? The man is crazy! “I can fix this!” he said again, louder as the man came farther in. “That’s why I left.”
“You left me for dead,” Saladan said, and Kal fumbled for a ley line, watching the tips of Saladan’s black hair float from the force of the line he was holding. “All you do is lie, Kalamack. All you elves ever do is lie.”
Stay out of this, Orchid, he thought, but the pixy was hovering at his shoulder, her bare garden blade in hand. “Trisk is here,” Kal said. “And Daniel.”
Saladan’s hand twitched. Kal’s breath came in with a gasp. Adrenaline pulsed, and he ducked, flinging an unfocused ball of power at whatever nasty spell Saladan had thrown at him. Stumbling, Kal went down, arms pinwheeling until he fell into the rolling chair. Saladan’s charm hit the ceiling, where it stuck, little tendrils of black questing out like Fourth of July snakes.
“Trisk and Daniel didn’t ruin the T4 Angel, you did,” Saladan said as he paced closer, lips in an ugly snarl.
“Leave Kal alone,” Orchid said, then she yelped, darting away when he flicked his cigarette at her.
“Hey!” Kal protested, only to fall back into the chair when Saladan lunged for him. “Sa—” His words were choked off as Saladan knocked his forming spell aside and grabbed him by the throat. An abiding anger narrowed the witch’s eyes, inches from his own as the older man pinned him to the chair. Above them, Orchid stood on the top of Saladan’s circle. Kal hadn’t even seen its construction, it had happened so fast. Her sword was out, and she was using it like a pick, trying to force her way in like a little demon.
“You made my product worthless. Leaving me for dead I can forgive. Leaving me broke I will not,” Saladan said, and Kal choked, his breath cut off.
Then Kal screamed, arching his back in agony when ley line energy poured into him, burning away every thought except escape. “Not my intent,” he rasped, sucking in air. “Give me the chance . . . to fix it.” The flow ceased, and he gasped, relishing the lack of pain. He was shaking, feeling his synapses smoldering from the overload, and he scrambled for a charm, a spell, anything to break him free of Saladan’s tight grip as the man leaned closer, the warmth of his hand under Kal’s chin a warning that worse was coming.
“I’m not going back to my son and telling him that the money is gone,” Saladan said. “That an elf brought us down.”
Kal’s foot twitched. “I can fix this,” he got out again, and then screamed as fire lit through him, bursting from his chest to race through his body, rebounding at his fingers and toes to cycle back on itself and cause more pain. It was a phantom agony, but it would leave a real mark on his mind, and for the first time, panic filled him as his mind began to burn, ley line energy crisping the delicate patterns that allowed him to use magic.
“They’re here!” he exclaimed, hearing his voice as if outside his head. “Kill me, and you get nothing!”
Again the fire vanished, and Kal stifled a moan, vowing that if he survived, he’d never be hurt like this again. Money was power, but magic made you a god.
“I’m not killing you,” Saladan said as he adjusted his grip. “I’m softening you up, then I’m going to sell you to a demon. Rumor is they’ll give a lot for a Kalamack. Your slaver past catching up to you. It might be enough. It might not. But either way, I’ll feel better.”
“No!” Kal screamed as another burning wave crashed over him, and with a resolve he never knew he had, he grappled with the pain, studying it until he found its pattern. Not knowing if it would work or simply kill him, Kal shifted his aura to match the incoming flow.
With a shocking suddenness that was almost a misery in itself, the energy poured into him cleanly. It was the resistance that was causing the burn, and with a gasp of relief, Kal opened his eyes, fixing them on Saladan.
“Get off me,” Kal intoned, shoving the energy right back at the distasteful man.
But Saladan had felt the shift of flow and had let go, pushing Kal and his rolling chair into the back of his circle as he stood up.
For three heartbeats, they faced each other. “Who taught you that?” Saladan said, nervously reaching for a cigarette.
“A little bird,” Kal said, but his voice was shaking, and he wasn’t sure he could stand yet. “If you’re through with your tantrum, I have a proposition for you. I can get it all back, and more. I only need some time.”
Saladan’s thin lips twisted, and he lit the new cigarette with a pop of magic. “If I had a dollar for every gambler in my father’s casino who said that,” he said. “No, wait, I do. Or did.”
“Stop,” Kal said, hand raised when Saladan reached to choke him again. “Just stop,” he added impatiently as he sat up, not liking the impression of cowering in a chair. “Hear me out, and then if you want to sell me to a demon, fine, but Dr. Cambri has in her head the holy grail of genetic fixes.”
Saladan growled something inaudible, and Kal added, “Why do you think I was at that lame excuse of a lab? To sign off on a tomato patent?” he said. “The enclave sent me to find out if it was real, and it is. Her universal donor virus can change the world.”
Saladan blew smoke at Orchid, the pixy still standing atop his circle. The tiny woman looked confused, and Kal frowned. True, his original intent had been to shut down Trisk’s research as dangerous, but the plague pretty much settled that. She’d never set foot in an elven lab again, and it left her donor virus curiously—and unexpectedly—vulnerable. It would be like cheating off her test. Easy, and if there were issues down the road, he could blame them on her.
Looking even more troubled, Orchid darted away as the gray smoke curled up and against the inside of the circle to show the limits of Saladan’s power. “Change the world?” Saladan said dryly. “More than killing a substantial portion of its population has?”
Kal straightened his tie, only now seeing how filthy it was. I need to do something about that. “Everything, Saladan. Not just for elves, but for whatever humans survive this. Witches. Weres. We all benefit. And they will pay whatever we ask because we will hold the keys to everything they want.”
Orchid was frowning at him, her slight figure looking even slimmer as she stood between two troll dolls, hands on her hips and shedding a bright silver dust. A spark of hope lit through him when Saladan’s eyes narrowed in thought. “You think getting rid of diabetes was significant?” Kal asked. “Give me a year in a lab with Trisk’s donor virus research, and we can stop heart disease, leukemia, sickle cell, Down syndrome, or any genetic disease there’s enough people afflicted with to show a profit. All I need to do now is make sure the blame for the plague lands on Dr. Plank.”
From the shelf, Orchid frowned at him, her dust turning into black sparkles.
Saladan’s eyebrows rose. “How does blaming a human for Dr. Cambri’s mistake give you control over her other work?”
Kal shrugged, not letting the man’s eyes go so he’d believe the lie that it was Trisk’s fault. Besides, most of it was true, and didn’t the world spin on what was mostly true? “Because even if everyone else thinks otherwise, the enclave will know it was her error, and trust me, they will want someone to take her other work to completion. We can both benefit, me with the product, you with the manufacture and distribution.”
“Kal, you said it was dangerous!” Orchid exclaimed, and he frowned. That had been before he realized the potential. The profit outweighed the risk, and he knew what he was doing.
Unfortunately, Saladan never let greed overrule his suspicions, and his thin lips pressed as he flicked his cigarette away. “I’d rather give you to a demon.”
Kal stood, lurching to put the rolling chair between them. “Damn it, Saladan. You’re not a fool!” he exclaimed. “There’s no risk here for you other than letting me live this side of the ley lines. It’s all on me. If it fails, y
ou can sell me to a demon then.”
Saladan eyed the faint glow about Kal’s hands, clearly knowing it would be harder now to down him with magic. “You can shift the blame to Dr. Plank?”
“The enclave will do anything to keep the elves out of it,” Kal said. “Alive or dead, Daniel will take the brunt of the blame. It’s his virus. Trisk was working in a human facility, so covering up that the tomato was elven crafted will be as easy as ensuring that she never sees a lab bench again. Even the enclave will want her discredited to help hide that it was her tomato that spread the virus.” He smiled, inclining his head with his best boy’s-club smile. “Someone will have to take control of her research.”
The flicker of magic wreathing Saladan’s hand went out. “And you will be more than happy to do so, eh?”
He nodded, his grip on the back of the chair easing. “The enclave will give it to me, calling it incentive to keep my mouth shut.”
Saladan laughed, but it was an ugly sound. “I’m beginning to see why your family is still in existence, Kalamack.” His posture shifted. “I don’t trust you, though.”
“Good.” Shoulders easing, Kal came out from behind the chair. “You tagging along with me will be useful.”
Saladan backed up into his circle. It fell with a sliding wave of color, and Kal took a deep breath, not liking having to breathe that foul, smoke-scented air that Saladan had been expelling. Immediately Orchid dropped down from the bookshelf. Saladan eyed her cautiously, and the pixy flipped him off before landing on Kal’s shoulder.
“Kal, you said her work was dangerous,” she whispered.
He shook his head, wishing she’d shut up. “In her hands, yes, but not mine.”
“But Kal,” she protested, “you can’t blame Dr. Plank. They might kill him.”
“It’s going to happen, Orchid,” he said brusquely, not wanting Saladan to think he didn’t have control over her. Guilt made his words harsher than he intended, but he couldn’t explain with Saladan listening.
Orchid pursed her lips, staring at him with her hands on her hips and her wings a blur of motion. “Fine,” she said saucily, then flew out the door, making Saladan duck as she clattered past his head and into the hall.