Smoke & Mirrors

by C. L. Schneider

  The hard way, I thought, as I drained the last of the liquid from my cup.

  It was something I should have been used to by now.

  “Go,” he said. “Get some sleep while you can. Coen is off-world. When he returns, he’ll contact you with a meeting point. In say, four or five hours? Be ready. In the meantime, I’ll handle our problem here. A small, controlled fire in the living room should do the trick.”

  “You said that makes it come back stronger.”

  “And if I do nothing, it will eventually spread through the house. It will reach the basement, breach the false wall, and enter the tunnels. There are near a hundred exits beneath the city. It will infect them all and gain access to even more worlds. At least this way,” he said, resigned, “I can buy us significantly more time.”

  I tried not to get hung up on the number of exits he just dropped, or how fucked we all were. Instead, I stood and looked him in the eyes. “What can I do?”

  With an impressive flip, Aidric returned the fedora to his head. “Right now, Dahlia, you can do what I’ve asked. What comes next…will remain to be seen.”

  It was 1:00 AM when Coen called, waking me from a much-needed sleep. He gave me an address on the other side of the city and forty minutes to get there. I spent ten of it delivering the news to Evans, trying to get a word in while he threw out questions I had no answers for.

  With no real idea what to expect, I stuffed a backpack with extra clips, water, energy bars, a first aid kit, bandages, and a gas mask. I only had one. If the air was anything like the del-yun world, it wouldn’t be enough. But Coen and I had sturdy lungs. We could handle it for a while if we had to. Evans couldn’t.

  Our rendezvous point was the parking lot of a private art gallery at the edge of the city center. According to Coen, a door in the sub-basement would take us into the tunnels, steps from the appropriate exit. His details on the world itself were vague, as if it didn’t matter where we were going. Aidric assigned a job. He would see it done.

  I pulled into the slender driveway and followed it to the back of the building. The outside lighting was dim. The building was closed and dark. I turned the jeep around for a quick exit and surveyed the surrounding buildings. No windows faced the lot. Convenient.

  Getting out, I threw on a jacket against the night air. As I grabbed my backpack from the trunk, headlights flooded the lot. A familiar two-door raced into the first spot. The engine was barely off before Evans was out of the car and jogging toward me.

  He skidded to a breathless stop. “You’re sure?” Hope widened his brown eyes in the near dark. “You found her?”

  “It’s the best lead we’ve had,” I said, repeating what I’d told him on the phone. “But you need to stay grounded with this, Casey. We don’t know what’s happened to her. She could be injured.”

  “She’s okay. I know she is.” Evans jerked a thumb at my open trunk. “Do you mind if I…?”

  “Help yourself.”

  Rubbing his hands together in excitement, Evans rummaged through my hidden cache of weapons. “And the world?” he asked, peering around the side of the jeep. “What’s it like?”

  “Dangerous.” I hadn’t mentioned the blight to Evans yet. I wanted to know more about it before revealing a potential widespread threat to his world. Now, it was here. But I wasn’t going to stain his sister’s homecoming by telling him the home he was bringing her back to was in serious trouble. “There’s a sickness,” I said, keeping it general. “It spreads through the exit and infects entire worlds. Including the one we’re headed to. The land and most of the inhabitants are probably dead. The air might be polluted. And Coen said something about worms.”

  “Really? A worm world?” He glanced around again. Evans practically glowed as the possibilities crossed his mind. “Awesome.”

  “There are no worm worlds,” I said, reigning him in. “But it’s not uncommon for insects and deep-dwelling creatures to hold out longer in harsh environments.” I shrugged the backpack off my shoulders. Removing the gas mask, I slapped it against his chest. “The air might be an issue. But I think we can handle a few little worms.”

  I turned at a sound. His passenger door opened and long legs, covered in a pair of knee-high boots, swung into view. Getting out, Nadine straightened her denim mini skirt.

  “I guess wearing pants twice in a week was too much for her,” I said.

  Evans chuckled. He was too busy loading up on weapons to catch my annoyance. Because he doesn’t see a reason for it, I thought. Despite her impractical dress, Nadine was formidable. It couldn’t hurt to have the extra muscle. But I didn’t know enough of what we were walking into. I didn’t need Evans more distracted than he already was.

  Watching Nadine zip her jacket shut with an exaggerated shiver, I turned and closed the trunk on him. “So. Are you guys a package deal now, or what?”

  Color darkened his face. “She wants to help. Besides, Nadine works for Gant. She might be our ace in the hole if we run into trouble. And she insisted on coming along. I’m not sure I could have stopped her.”

  I didn’t reply. For as long as I’d known Nadine, I’ve never seen her anywhere outside the bar. Now, she was all over the place, and I didn’t understand it. I didn’t understand her. The way she came off, so bright and bold and open, made the secrets she kept seem trivial. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

  Nadine approached with a sway of curves and a lipstick-coated smile. Her waves were pulled into a high ponytail. Glitter painted her eyelids, rimming a gaze that was bursting with the usual spunk. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

  The back door of the gallery opened. Coen stuck his head out and waved us inside. His golden-brown eyes sent a flash of warmth in my direction.

  “Oh, sugar,” Nadine squealed. She hooked her arm in mine as we headed for the door. “Your balaur is positively scrumptious. Why haven’t you moved on that?”

  Yep. Normal as can be.

  Twenty-Four

  “A few little worms?” Evans shouted as he pulled the trigger. The gas mask muffling his voice, he ripped it off and shouted louder. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  didn’t chide him for removing the mask. The air was hot and unpleasant, but not tainted to the point of being deadly. I was also too busy for conversation, jumping clear of an explosion of black blood from the giant, tubed form rearing over me.

  The creatures were everywhere.

  Rounded mouths flexing, red, plump bodies rising from the fog drifting over the valley floor, their massive fleshy forms coiled around each other, sliding over the dry, empty casings of their own dead. More emerged from the depths of the six, dark cylindrical caves cut into the mountainside. The range was massive, with steep hills and bare crags stretching into the distance. Remnants of arched walkways and rope bridges connected the many peaks. Waterfalls trickled down from the higher altitudes, streaking the barren, black slopes.

  Our objective was closer, across the valley, between two of the higher lairs: a grand structure carved out of the basalt columned hillside. Crumbling stairs led to a grand entryway marked by pillars and obstructed by a golden, metal gate bathed in the light of the morning sun. The structure was impressive but far from impenetrable. All we had to do was get past a nest of the largest and most disgusting burrowing invertebrate I’d ever seen.

  “These aren’t worms,” I said. “They’re guard dogs.”

  And the only life we’d seen since we arrived. Our walk from the exit had been less than a mile, but we’d encountered no insects or mammals, nor scampering creatures. A large lake or sea had flanked one side of the stone roadway. Unidentifiable carcasses littered the beach, covered in a gray, algae-like scum and battered by wind and waves. Our other side was marred by patches of crusty blackness stretched across the ground, interspersed by spindle-like outcroppings and clumps of yellowing vegetation. What we had seen in large quantities, though, were exits. Some were large. Some were small. Some were black and broken. Others, like the one we came through,
appeared normal. Like on the del-yun world.

  Evans paused to reload, and the worm he’d been shooting at contracted. As it expanded again, its mouth—a generous sphincter—opened to a large “O”. Rows of pale feelers sprouted from black gums. “Watch it,” I told him. “They have—”

  A long belt of pink, barbed flesh rolled from the worm’s mouth. Its tongue slapped the ground. Electricity arced across the dirt. Evans scooted out of reach with a cry and fired down, peppering the pulpy mass with bullets until it retracted.

  “Electric tongues?” He spared me a glance. “They didn’t have electric tongues in Mongolian Death Worm.” Snapping in another clip, he muttered, “This world sucks,” and resumed firing; faint, stupid grin firmly in place.

  I retreated to Nadine’s position. She’d brought her own gas mask. It was a act that implied she knew the dangers of this world. It might have been nice if she’d clued us in on what was guarding the gate, but I was more interested in dealing with it than assigning blame. “This isn’t working. They don’t even have eyes, and they’re kicking our asses. Bullets barely penetrate. And did you see them dodge my fire? These things are crazy fast for their size. We need a new tactic.”

  “I’m game for anything that doesn’t make them splatter,” Nadine griped, rubbing at the streaks of dark blood on her skirt.

  “Any inside knowledge you can share?”

  Relief softened her gaze behind the mask, as if she’d been expecting accusation and not inquiry. “These were docile creatures once. Peaceful and cherished. The tunnels they created allowed many of the mountain villages to come together. They’ve since been trained to be something more, but I’ve never seen them react this violently. I think they’re in pain.”

  “It’s the ground. The rock in their burrows must offer some protection, but out here, there’s nothing between them and the blight.”

  “They must be starved, too. They’re usually bigger.”

  “Bigger?” I shook my head, trying to picture it. “Whatever they were, they’re dangerous now. We can’t bring the captives past these things.”

  She nodded. “They aren’t as quick as they seem. They’re predicting your attacks by tracking the vibrations of your steps, your heartbeat. They can feel your slightest movements. Your heat, too, as it builds. They know when you’re about to fire.”

  “I need to get off the ground. And you need to sing,” I pointed at her.

  “Sweetie, they don’t have ears.”

  “I don’t want you to mesmerize them. If these things are as sensitive as you say, a strong enough vibration should incapacitate them. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “Sound waves,” she nodded. “You and the balaur might stay upright if it catches you, but it’ll certainly knock Casey on his cute little ass.” Losing the attitude, Nadine said plainly, “I don’t want to hurt him.”

  “And I don’t want him electrocuted and swallowed by a giant worm.”

  “Generating enough force for something this size, keeping it focused and off the rest of you, will take a lot of power. I can’t sustain it in this form.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “But I don’t look like other sirens.”

  Nadine’s admission surprised me. There weren’t a lot of physical variations among her kind in their natural state. “I can’t force you. But if one of us ends up in the belly of a fucking worm because you’ve suddenly gone shy—” I didn’t need to finish. Nadine was already nodding and moving away.

  Stripping off her jacket, she lost the gas mask and boots next. Glancing back at the right time, Evans gasped as Nadine’s exposed skin altered to a striking silver-gray. Black, tapering stripes faded in to line the sides of her arms, thighs, and face. Her hairline receded a good inch. She took out her ponytail, and the strands’ individual composition changed, taking on a thick, fibrous texture as they darkened and straightened. More stripes formed on her shoulders and neck, but only the bands on her face were flat. The rest had depth and movement. Like feathers I thought. But not the silky, fine variety. These were more like bone or cartilage, conical, with sharp tips that extended slightly off her body.

  I waited for more, for her facial structure to change and wings to sprout. Despite the stories, I knew true sirens weren’t interchangeable with mermaids. They were humanoid in shape, but more like aquatic birds than fish. But as Nadine’s transformation ended, I realized she wasn’t either. Her form was missing several key features, making her something unique I could only describe as stunning and deadly—like the sound fleeing her body.

  I called out, “Fall back!” and Coen’s impressive, scaled, three-headed form scrambled up from the valley to the crest of the hill. I ran to Evans, yanking him clear of the tongue darting toward his face. “Gas mask on. Hands over your ears. If this works…”

  My words were lost as Nadine hit a painfully high note. The air squeezed tight, and the cylindrical body of the worm closest to her quivered.

  Nadine sang louder. The invisible waves pushed harder. We were on the outskirts of her range, but the thrumming ache echoing through my body was far from pleasant. The longer she sustained the note, the harder it was to stand. Coen jerked, trying to shake it off. Evans finally hit the dirt. A few more worms were writhing and trembling now, releasing low, raspy moans. The sounds rose in volume and intensity with Nadine’s tune—then abruptly wobbled as a wracking cough shook her body. She tried to get it under control. But like a shot gone wild, Nadine’s song flew off tune, and the first fleshy form to succumb to her grip burst apart.

  Pale meat and dark blood colored the air. As the remains landed with a series of splats, Nadine shot me an innocent shrug. She cleared her throat and tried again.

  Lowering her voice an octave, she pivoted to widen her reach. Three worms thrashed and flopped over, shaking the ground as they hit. One broke through the paralyzing barrier. Rising high, it veered toward Nadine. Abruptly, the tube plunged down and knocked her backwards off the rise. As Nadine fell out of sight, her attack went silent.

  Evans headed after her. Taking a running dive, he slid bravely under the worm’s body. Dust mushroomed in his wake, clouding the slope as he, too, skidded out of view.

  My way was blocked. I couldn’t go after him. “Damnit!”

  The creature swung toward me. I leapt out of reach, landing to a squish of movement behind me. The whack of a tongue followed. Another, closer whack struck the ground. The sound came again, and I rolled. Disrupting the loose dirt at the crest of the hill, the slope gave way. It crumbled, and I started sliding. The cluster of wide, cylindrical mouths at the bottom of the valley flexed in excitement; opening and closing; opening and closing.

  I dug my claws in, desperate to stay out of their reach, but the dead ground only broke faster. Chunks of black crust lifted and showered down. The tainted grains were cold and biting against my scales, but I knew how the blight worked now. I wasn’t from this world. My status as an “alien” didn’t make me immune, but it should mean direct contact wasn’t fatal. The worms were, though. And the more I struggled to climb, the quicker I slid toward them.

  I was a breath from unfurling my wings through my jacket and taking flight, when pressure encircled my wrist. I looked up into determined, golden-brown eyes as the three-headed balaur hauled me up with one hand. A long, tapered staff in his other hand, Coen extended a blade from the tip and impaled the tongue about to wrap around my ankle. He sat me down gently and stabbed two more.

  The cries of the injured worms were deafening. I pushed a surge of fire into their gaping mouths, one after the other, until the noise died, and their maws bubbled and burst.

  We moved back from the valley’s edge as Evans and Nadine scampered up the other side. Seeing him unharmed, I hid my worry behind a show of pride and shot Evans a smile. Scrapes streaked Nadine’s gray skin, but they were all minor. She pulled her gas mask on and gave me a thumbs up.

  I took off my backpack, stuffed my jacket inside, and tossed it to Evans. “Nadine wi
ll try again to occupy our large friends.” Getting a nod from her, I turned to Coen. “Go up, and around, and find a way inside.” I pointed at the towering gate blocking the entrance to the facility.

  Teal eyes met mine. “And you?”

  Wings pushed out and unfolded; smoldering as I pulled heat into my palms. “I’m going to light this place up.”

  The gray-eyed head disagreed. “Are you sure? Do we truly want to destroy the last remnants of life on this world? These worms—”

  “Are pissing me off,” I cut in. “They’re standing between us and our mission. The one Aidric assigned us,” I reminded him, knowing how seriously the balaur took his commitment to Drimera’s king. “We can’t possibly relocate them. And once we leave, there will be nothing here for them to eat. I don’t know if you’ve ever gone hungry but starving to death isn’t a top ten way to go. And, in case you haven’t noticed, they’re trying to kill us.”

  I waited, but all three heads remained silent.

  Getting no further argument, I met Nadine’s gaze. “It’s time for your encore.” She nodded, and I looked at Evans. “Get clear and stay down. I’m not losing anyone else this week.”

  The immense structure was never meant to be a prison. Built countless years ago for something noble and imposing, the space was wide and lofty, with ornamental details and unique architecture at every turn. The ceiling was reinforced with hexagonal marble columns and orange metal, wrapped in a shimmering silver wire capable of producing light. High arches of twisted stone—some ornamental, some serving to divide the space—decorated the curved walls with sculptures of small animals. Etchings of an unreadable language covered the walls in sweeping designs. Beneath, as if placed there for contemplation of the engraved passages, were ledges, benches, and seats of various shapes and sizes, all carved from a weathered, green stone.