I was becoming sensitized to the lacunae. From dealing with them, or because of the trollmiod? As with all things, most likely a bit of both.
Careful of wet patches, I walked down the ramp to the basement. Cameras were wired properly now, and a quick pulse of my magic told me they were active. It didn’t take much to loop a few seconds of feed to hide my approach to the maintenance room, although more cars were here now than had been in the summer, so I had to work quickly before anyone came to get their car. Anyone watching the cameras would surely notice a car vanishing.
The door to the maintenance room had been replaced with something more modern. I liked modern — electronic locks were child’s play, but before going in, I pulsed with my magic to see whether there was anything unexpected in there. Good thing, too, since that’s where the camera feeds led, which most likely meant someone in there watching them.
Rather than popping the lock and going inside, I knelt and touched the floor.
Yes, there was a gap here — a small one, about as big as I remembered the length of the room and only about as deep as a person was tall. Bigger than the crack in Primark, smaller than the one in Logan. Was it as small as it was because the ghost had been found so soon, before more damage could be done? I’d have to check other places, sites I knew the ghosts had been — the garage near Maggie’s, and one near Ximena, and maybe others I still hadn’t found. Those gaps might be bigger because it took me longer to deal with the ghosts — and deal with Clay.
And the building he’d been working on? That one I was going to have to go looking for soon, so it didn’t turn into another Calgary-level mess while I puttered about with these small gaps.
For now, though, I needed to focus on the one before me. I laid my right palm flat on the concrete. No need even to close my eyes to concentrate here. I could feel the extent of the gap, and my magic stretched from end to end and top to bottom almost as quick as thought. Pulling the two sides together and zipping it closed took some work, but less than I had expected.
Somehow, that didn’t seem fair, and I felt let down. The lingering damage should have been greater, more of a sign of all that had happened here, of my fear that I would die, too, and the instinctive lash of my magic against the coils. I felt sad again for the woman who had died here, her only crime to look like me, if you squinted just right. I’d seen the news in the Globe when she had been found — both her and the maintenance man — and her family saying that at least they knew. That was all I could give them, knowing that she was dead, not who or why, and certainly not healing. I bowed my head in sorrow. Clay had done this, yes, but I still needed to make it right, and not just with the trolls.
Headlights flashed on the ramp, and I tensed, worried I had taken too long. But no, I was done — I stood casually, walking as if I had just come from one of the cars. I released the looping on the camera feeds as I stepped out of their range, and nodded at the approaching car, which would show up seamlessly for whomever was watching the videos.
And now Beth was talking about going to Brian and Karen’s wedding. Clay was best man, of course, and was I sure I didn’t want to reconsider and ask them for an invitation? No, the very last thing I wanted to do was go to our college ex’s wedding and spend the time wondering if I had broken Clay, if I had hurt him the way my grandmother worried about hurting my grandfather, reshaping him to be convenient. I didn’t regret for one moment protecting Beth, but I wondered again whether I could have found another way.
My steps echoed off the concrete as I walked up the ramp. I didn’t want to go to the wedding, but maybe Beth was right for all the wrong reasons. I needed to see Clay again. When he’d come in with Svetlana the other day, I hadn’t had the composure to look at him with my new training, to see if there was damage — and whether I could repair that damage without causing other problems. I hated that I still thought this was the best option, that it was better to have sealed off a part of Clay to save the world. But that was better than killing him. I didn’t want dead bodies, dead people, dead friends.
However, I needed to be sure that he wasn’t a danger.
I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Beth. “Send me Karen’s info. I would like to go to their wedding after all.”
Better to ask Karen, though, than have her think I was chasing Brian. Not that I could imagine anyone believing that for an instant if Haris came along as my plus-one.
Chapter 28
Most of the day was quiet, leaving me plenty of time to think about my new apartment and my new neighbors. I baked cookies and muffins, I took delivery of scones and finikia, I brewed coffee and tea, I greeted regulars and new customers equally with good cheer. The only time customers stood out for me was when Grant came in with Raidne’s granddaughter, his arm around her waist. I remembered her from Tremont Street, not wanting to see her called out in front of traffic to die. I’d made the right choice.
“I’d like you to meet Eleni.” He met my eyes seriously. “This is our second date.”
“I was trying to get him to take me to a movie, but he wanted to come here instead. It’s a nice place.” She frowned at me. “Have we met?”
“Not really, but I get around a fair bit.” I motioned to the pastry case. “I promise, the finikia are every bit as good as you’re used to.”
She laughed. “Oh, you’re the one I package those up for! Good to know.”
“Call me Pepper. Can I get you anything?”
“Just a coffee, with room for cream and sugar.”
I handed her a mug of Kona and motioned to the condiment bar. “Help yourself.” After she walked off, I looked at Grant expectantly.
“She’s … more alive than Raidne. Well, alive isn’t the best word for it, but …” He trailed off helplessly.
“Human, perhaps.” I smiled. “I like her. Now, what drink are you going to try to stump me with today?”
“I’ll have what she’s having.”
“All right.” As I handed him the mug, he slid some bills across the counter. I shook my head. “On the house today.”
He looked at me, and his eyes glazed a bit as though he were looking past where I stood. Then he picked up the bills and stuffed them into the tip jar. What had he seen? I thought for a moment he was going to say something, but instead he headed over to join Eleni at the condiment bar.
In winter, sunset comes early, with the light gone by four-thirty. No light meant no need for subtlety, even with people getting off work all around. Níal stood in front of the coffee shop door. The ward didn’t find her a direct threat, which was some comfort.
I glanced over at Trish, who was stacking cups. “I see someone I need to talk to.”
She shrugged, and I crossed to the door and stepped outside to speak to Níal. “The next one?”
“Let’s go.” Her manners hadn’t improved any.
“I was about to start a fresh pot of coffee.”
“No. There is no time.”
No time? How big and dangerous a gap were we going to deal with? Only the chasm up in Calgary had been that large, and if there were such a chasm around here, I would have noticed it before now. Also, if we were going to be doing work that was that intense, I wanted some trollmiod first.
“Fine, but I need to tell my coworker. Also, it’s cold out here, and my bladder needs to be emptied before I go jaunting off who-knows-where for however long.” I turned away from her.
She grabbed my hand. “No. We will go now. I do not care about your human frailty.”
Sverth had said not to antagonize her, said to play along and find some method of exposing her to Iárn. Well, no, he’d said not to bother because he didn’t think it could be done, but he didn’t want me to get hurt along the way. My magic didn’t care; it struck out to protect me as it had my whole life. She let go, muttering something that I assumed was a curse.
“I said I’m going to be a minute.”
She moved as if to grab me again, and I let my magic spark across my arm. Only s
harp eyes would have noticed the tracery of electric sparks crossing back and forth on the surface. Hers were sharp enough. She pulled her hand back without touching.
“I will let Iárn know how uncooperative you’re being.”
“You do that.”
Still, I felt a twinge of worry. I didn’t want to do anything that might make Sverth’s life more complicated, and me being on the outs with Iárn certainly qualified. Doing my best not to show my fear, I took a step away from her. I considered letting the door close in her face, but that would be pointless. If she wanted to come in, she could. With some reluctance, she followed me.
“Your shop doesn’t like me much.”
As if I needed more evidence that she was not someone I wanted to be around! The only other person who had ever complained about the feeling inside the Wicked Whatever was the dark muse Melanthios. Wards that were created to keep people safe from others bothered people with ill will on their mind. That was the point.
However, she wasn’t actively trying to harm me, or the ward would do more than make her uneasy.
“Then wait outside.”
I didn’t look to see whether she went back out, instead heading down the hallway to the restroom. I hadn’t been lying about my bladder — a mug of coffee, the cold air — the result was a foregone conclusion.
After I used the bathroom, I stopped in to my office, not really caring that Níal was in the other room, feeling unwelcome, as long as she left the other customers and Trish alone. Níal might be annoyed with me, but I wasn’t exactly wild about the way she showed up and expected me to drop everything for her, either. The bota bag of trollmiod was locked in my lower drawer, the work of moments to retrieve and drink. I thought about refilling it and bringing it with me, but Níal might recognize it, and my gut told me she shouldn’t know I had trollmiod. Reluctantly, I returned the bag to the drawer. Then I grabbed my travel mug from the desk and locked the door behind me.
“I’m going to make some tea for the road,” I said. I still wasn’t sure how the trollmiod and Carole’s tea would interact, but everything I’d seen from Níal so far told me that I needed to be prepared for treachery, prepared with more magic than she thought I had. Each time I’d encountered her, her magic had worked harder to deflect mine and break my work. I was certain this time would be no different.
“There’s no time for that,” she said. “I told you we need to go now.”
I gave her a level stare, daring her to grab at me again. “Unless Boston is going to cave in if I don’t go right this second, I’m going to make tea. And if it is? I’m going to need to see some proof.”
“Hmph.” She crossed her arms and stared at the door. The zap from my magic was memorable enough that she wouldn’t grab me again.
Tea into a bag, bag in the mug, use the hot water dispenser — literally a matter of less than a minute to make the tea. I pocketed a couple more bags of the tea, grateful that I’d had the foresight to package it into bags this time. I didn’t know how effective it would be without water to steep it in, but better to be prepared just in case.
“Are you ready yet?”
I inhaled the fresh aroma, enjoying the way I could feel magic trickling into me with each jasmine-and-honeysuckle-scented breath, before I snapped the lid on my travel mug. “Let’s go.”
She insisted on walking around to the alley outside the building rather than going through the coffee shop. Again, I wondered at her reluctance to be inside. That didn’t bode well, but then I hadn’t seen Iárn or Sverth inside, either — only at the T and the airport, and Níal in the previous basement. Alleys, yes, but not so much in buildings. Maybe there was some rule about when trolls could be inside. I’d ask Sverth when I saw him again, perhaps. When, not if.
She chose a different part of the wall to touch and create the opening this time, and my foot skidded on the patch of ice in front of it. Was that deliberate on her part? Hard to say. It could be thoughtlessness rather than malice. Maybe she didn’t see it, but I found that hard to believe, since trolls could see in the dark.
The tunnel inside was as smooth as ever, no ice that I felt, simply solid stone underfoot. The sense of Tiamat’s magic was an oily undercurrent to the cool tunnel, near but not immediate. The anticipated vertigo from fast motion hit me, this time with an added twist of nausea from my stomach. If the tightness in my jaw was any indication, I might get sick at any moment. Maybe the trollmiod and the tea together was a bad idea.
On the other hand, I could see the golden outlines of openings — for they were openings, or potential openings, though my hand felt no gaps — leading off from either side, as well as silver glints from the floor, perhaps the residue that enhanced the speed of passage. The walls themselves were a deep gray, a shade that should be black, would be black, if I could not see through the darkness. With the combination of the two drinks, although I was nauseated, I could also undeniably see more than I could before, which is how I saw the hole before we reached it, a black maw within the gray, torn across the path. I stopped short.
“Why are you stopping?” Níal shoved me forward, and I stumbled a couple of steps before I managed to stop once again.
“There’s a gap here. I can feel it.” I sat down on the floor, unwilling to be pushed into the hole through her carelessness.
“Impossible. We’ve miles before we reach the site.”
“Then you go ahead.”
She hesitated, then covered it by saying, “And leave you here unsupervised? Do you want Iárn to take my head?”
Although the thought was tempting, I wanted her in trouble but still alive. Death was permanent, and I did not want to be responsible for anyone’s.
“Fine. Sit down and let me work.”
I squared my shoulders and pushed her out of my mind as much as I could to examine the hole. This one didn’t feel like the others, not a crack in the ground, not so much a gap as a rent in the bedrock where something had ripped it asunder, a tear that traveled across the air in front of me as well as down. That scared me — it didn’t feel like Tiamat’s work. Ah, but a hint of acrid stone showed me Níal’s magic at work, though she might merely have started the hole before something else pulled at it. The feel of the gap was different enough that I wasn’t certain I could repair this as I had the others.
Still, I had to give it my best shot. Grateful for the extra reservoir of magic within me, I let it flow out to touch the edge of the hole in front of me. Blue light flared, similar to the electric sparks of my magic reacting to my emotions, and I blinked to clear my vision. I did not reach, not yet. Let the magic continue to spread, working on its own to outline the needed repairs. I lifted my travel mug to my face and inhaled the aroma, letting it replenish my magic even as power slipped out from me.
Sparks danced in the air, bouncing off edges I could not see of something that was not there, or that was and couldn’t be. My magic still had not reached the limits of the hole, and my eyes strained to see the extent of the damage.
Motion beside me drew my attention, and I looked away from the darkness to see Níal standing nervously against the wall of the tunnel, her hands partially raised. I couldn’t see well enough to make out her expression, and I still didn’t know if she had expected to find this. Was she trying to kill me by driving me into this hole, or had it ripped open further than she had expected? I would find out later — this wasn’t the time for a drawn-out interrogation.
“Sit down!” I told her again.
“I won’t fall.”
She was wrong about that — I leaned over and yanked her down. With my hand still on her, I reached for her magic. She batted my hands away.
“We are going to fix this.” This time, I pushed at my magic, forcing it to flow faster, trying to light up the extent of the hole. Blue magic trailed away above and below and off to each side. Reason told me there was an end to this, though I could not see it. Again I reached for Níal’s magic, hooking it with a thread of my own power this time, bind
ing it as I had bound Chris’s to manipulate. She snarled and cuffed me, only to be hit by another burst of my magic when she touched me. Her hit was going to leave a bruise on my shoulder, but given the smell of burnt hair, we were probably even.
Her magic came through, sluggish and acrid like the traces along the gap, with that tang of acidity I had come to hate. As it passed, I charged it with my magic, with electrons to neutralize it, with air for volume so that a foam of magic sprayed outward, expanding as it arced into the darkness. In the distance, it came to rest, and my heart lifted with hope. There was an end to this, and it was in sight. We just had to do a lot of work to complete the job.
I sipped at my tea, wishing I’d dared to splash some trollmiod into the mug before I added the tea. Yes, I’d be nauseated, but I’d have more power. The mug was emptying far too quickly. Still, I had the extra bags of tea, and I would eat them dry if I had to, grabbing for every sliver of hope and help that I could find.
If only Haris was here with me now. That help would turn the tide, I was certain.
If Haris could not be with me in person, I would at least keep Haris with me in spirit, remind myself that as far as possible, Haris would always lend me strength. Softly, barely a whisper louder than my normal breath, I hummed, the notes forming the tune that both Haris and Hsien used to evoke me. Someday, I would learn the song that was Haris’s alone, but for now, this music that related to the core of myself would have to do.
The air shimmered around the sparks and foam, the magic spreading and growing.
Troll Tunnels Page 24