by R. L. King
Trin nodded, satisfied. “And with everyone gathered around to watch the Burn, no one will think anything of a couple of extra fires out that far.”
“Exactly,” Pia said. “How is your part of the plan going? Will your ritual be ready?”
“Yeah, it’ll be ready. Aisha’s getting a little frustrated at what she’s got to work with, but she’s sure she’ll be able to get enough of the hippie brigade marching in the right direction to be able to kick-start it. That’s all we really need. She said the way the ley lines are here, if she can get a handful of them to do it right, the rest of them don’t matter.”
“Except as food,” Pia said with a cold smile.
“Well, yeah. And she said she’d try to collect a few more today, just to be safe. It’d be easier if we could just use soldiers, but I don’t want to do that in case something goes wrong. Can’t afford to lose that many. Aisha’s picking people she thinks will be able to get the steps right, and promising them a huge party with shitloads of booze and drugs afterward to motivate them.”
Pia nodded. “Good, good. Have you heard anything about Stone and his people? Are they here?”
“Who the fuck knows?” Trin said with a frustrated shrug. “Nobody’s seen any sign of them. He and that apprentice of his would stand out like sore thumbs around here, so if they’re here, we’ll find ’em. We’ve got all the soldiers on alert. No sign of the humongous RV with the Jeep, though. Sam said he saw a couple of tan Jeeps when he went for a walk last night with Aisha, but nothing near an RV.”
“Maybe they didn’t come after all,” Pia said. “If so, that will make things much easier.” She sighed. “I just wish my illusions were stronger. I’d like to get out for a bit and look around, but I’m afraid I might be recognized.”
“Yeah, probably best,” Trin agreed. “I doubt it’ll be a problem, but let’s not take chances. Just keep working. We’re almost there.” She got up. “Me, I’m gonna go inspect those new pieces of the circle, and do some poking around to see if I can find Stone. I do not want any surprises. If he’s here, I want to know it so I can deal with the bastard.”
Verity couldn’t help noticing that Jason and Stone had little to say to each other when the four of them got together for an early dinner shortly before sundown. She traded jobs with Sharra so she could be on dishwashing duty with Jason, and waited until Stone disappeared back into his tent. “You okay?” she asked Jason.
“Yeah. Why?”
“You and Dr. Stone seem—” She shrugged.
He scrubbed at a plate and said nothing.
“He wasn’t too happy when you didn’t come back last night,” she ventured.
“Not his business.”
“No,” she agreed, slowly. “I think he was concerned about you, though. The Evil—”
“The Evil aren’t here, V,” he growled, handing the plate to her to dry. “Have you seen any sign of them? Has Sharra?”
“No, but—”
“Then Al can quit worrying about me and mind his own damn business, okay? I’m a little old for a curfew.”
She studied him for a long moment as he began on the next plate. “What’s wrong, Jason?”
His gaze came up. “What do you mean?”
“This is me, big bro, remember? Can’t hide. You’re upset about something, and I don’t think it has anything to do with curfews or Dr. Stone.”
He said nothing.
“Can I try to guess?”
He shrugged again, not looking at her.
“I think,” she said carefully, “that you’re upset because you’re frustrated there isn’t much you can do.”
“What the hell does that mean?” He scrubbed a little too hard at a stubborn bit of food stuck to the plate.
“You’re not used to feeling like you can’t fix things. And then you’re out here with me and Sharra and Dr. Stone, and we can all do magic, and—”
“I don’t want to do magic, V,” he said too quickly.
“Maybe not. I dunno. But we’re supposed to be looking for the Evil, or for magic, and there’s also the thing with Sharra knowing about how to do regular normal stuff here—” It was true, she realized. By virtue of the fact that she had friends who’d actually been to Burning Man and had experience camping throughout her life, Sharra had become the go-to expert on everything about the expedition with the exception of the magical end, where Stone took point as usual. That left Jason without his customary role as the logistical lead and mundane tactician for the group. “You’re feeling kind of useless, aren’t you?” she asked gently.
He didn’t answer for a long time. Finally he handed over the plate he was scrubbing and sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just getting frustrated that we’re not finding what we’re looking for, and if Al’s right, then the Evil are getting ready to do something big. If they’re not here, then they’re out there somewhere, and there’s not a fucking thing we can do about it.” He picked up a bowl. “I keep expecting that we’re gonna turn on the radio or get back home and find out that they’ve opened up a portal in the middle of New York City or something, and we maybe could have stopped it if we hadn’t been dicking around out here in the dust bowl.”
She nodded, but didn’t reply.
After a moment, he tossed the bowl back in the basin they were using to catch water. “And yeah. Maybe I am feeling a little useless. But that’s my problem, not yours. Not Al’s.”
“Okay,” she said. “But if you want to talk—you don’t have to pull the macho, ‘I don’t need anybody’ stuff on me, remember? I won’t blow your cover.”
He gave her a little smile. “Thanks, V. But I’m okay. Really.”
Wisely, she chose not to answer that.
Stone spent most of Thursday night prowling the playa alone. He didn’t take one of the bikes, preferring the slower journey of walking. It had taken him a while to get used to the idea that what felt to him like a wildly odd outfit—or at least wildly at odds with his usual style—blended in so well with the others in the crowd that no one gave him a second look. It was a moderate night, comfortably cool; he had trusted Verity and Sharra to help him fit in, and taken their suggestions: he wore long loose-fitting khaki cargo shorts, his favorite old Doc Martens, no shirt (he had pushed back on that part, but Verity had pointed out that Alastair Stone would no sooner wander around in public shirtless than he’d go out in his underwear, which meant that any hunting Evil wouldn’t look twice at his illusionary disguise), and something Verity had gotten hold of somewhere by trade: a half-height black top hat accessorized with steampunk goggles and a large feather sticking out from the band. Self-conscious at first, he’d needed about half an hour of walking before he stopped being aware of how ridiculous he thought he looked and focused on what was going on around him.
He never believed he’d think so, but there was a certain intriguing allure to the neon-lit, excitement-fueled, nonstop life on the playa. He allowed himself to not only look for signs of magic, but to actually see some of the ingenious efforts that people had performed to transform their camps into something more than mere places to sleep. He passed everything from a chaotically designed “temple” dedicated to the Flying Spaghetti Monster to whole structures set up for the purpose of enjoying carefree sex, alcohol, and other illicit pleasures, to an apparently fully functioning Christian church that was holding services as he went by. There were camps for children, camps for children at heart, and camps catering to the unabashedly adult. Not long after he began his meandering journey he passed a cluster of RVs arrayed around a tall pink-painted wooden structure, with TEMPLE OF LOVE spelled out across the top in looping red neon letters. He didn’t stop, but he did take a look around at the people loitering outside, wondering if he’d spot Wendy or her friend Rosie. Neither was there, but several of their nature-loving spiritual brothers and sisters lounged unselfconsciously around in all their un- or minimally-clothed splendor, draped over each other in various attitudes of affection and trying to beckon passers
by inside.
Despite his mission, Stone paused for a moment; his polite decline as he moved on was perhaps a bit reluctant.
One of the soldiers, a short young Hispanic man in a ripped T-shirt and cutoff shorts, poked his head in the door of Aisha Darby’s RV. “Got a minute?”
Aisha pushed aside the diagrams of the dance ritual steps and waved him in. “Make it quick. I still need to get a few things done before morning.”
The latest rehearsal had ended an hour ago and had gone well: she had picked up a few new recruits and a surprising number of the group members had proven capable of reproducing the proper steps adequately and even showing some ability with them. As a result, her stress levels about whether this whole thing was going to work had dropped to manageable levels.
The man nodded. “I just thought I should tell you about something that happened right after the rehearsal, after you left. I know we’re supposed to report anything unusual.”
She turned in her seat, interested now. “What?”
“A couple of the new girls that just started today. Hot chicks,” he added, with a leer. “One of ’em was naked, and the other one was almost. Anyway, I was helping out one of the new groups like you said, and while those two were looking over the steps for the next rehearsal, I heard one of ’em say something about how they looked like something they’d just seen a day or two ago.”
Aisha’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “It might be nothing. But she said something like, ‘maybe that’s what his secret project is. Maybe he’s around here somewhere.’ And then they started looking around like they were trying to spot somebody.”
“What did you do?” she asked, with a silent plea that this was one of the more mentally adept specimens among the soldiers. You never knew: some of them were only good for moving heavy things and following orders.
“Don’t worry, I played it cool,” he said, grinning. “I asked ’em if they were looking for somebody in particular, and they said they’d met a guy who had pages that looked kind of like yours, and that he’d said he was working on an art project for the Burn. They thought he might be one of the dancers, too.”
Aisha considered, wondering if this was something Trin would find useful. “Did they describe this man?”
“Yeah. Tall, spiky blond hair, tan, thin but buff. Maybe late 20s. I told ’em I’d see about trying to find him and let him know they were looking for him.”
Hmm. That didn’t sound like the description of Stone that Trin had given her, nor of his apprentice’s brother. Still, maybe there was another mage around, and that could potentially be used to their advantage. “Did they say where they saw him?”
“Somewhere over near the southwest side, in a tent. I didn’t push it ’cause I didn’t want to make ’em suspicious. They’ll be back tomorrow for rehearsal, though. They were real excited about being in on this. You can ask ’em then.”
After he left, Aisha leaned back in her chair, her eyes skimming over the pages of ritual designs without taking them in. The soldier was right—it probably was nothing. But even so, she decided, better let Trin know and have her make the call.
Verity and Sharra stumbled back into camp around dawn. Jason, who was on camp guard duty, dozed in a lawn chair by the remains of a campfire, his hat pushed down over his eyes. Verity yanked off the hat and he scrambled to grab it back before realizing who it was.
“Hey,” he said. “You two have fun?”
Verity grinned. “Yeah, it was great. Did you know they have a place where you can do mini-golf? And bowling? Who knew?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Have you been drinking?”
Her grin widened. “Loosen up, big bro. Nobody’s checking IDs around here. I just had a couple of mojitos. Or margaritas. Something that starts with M.” She glanced over at Sharra with a ‘help me out here’ sort of look, then giggled. “His Lordship around?”
“You are drunk,” he growled. “And if you mean Al, no. He took off before you did, and he’s not back yet.”
She nodded. “Okay, so I won’t get a lecture from him too. Awesome.”
“Did you find anything interesting? Did you even look?” Jason re-seated his hat on his head and poked at the fire with a stick. It was almost out, but a few glowing embers still remained beneath the ashes.
“I told you they had mini-golf,” she said, and giggled again. “And a Flying Spaghetti Monster temple. I got touched by his noodly appendage.”
“I thought you weren’t into that,” he said, and looked at Sharra with hopes that she might be a bit more lucid.
Sharra shrugged. “Maybe she overdid it a bit, but we had fun, you know?” She glanced around the camp. “I looked for magic a little—saw some, but nothing that looked like more than your typical minor-league talents having a good time.”
“She’s gonna feel like crap in a bit,” Jason said, hooking a thumb toward his sister. “Glad I don’t have to share a tent with her right now—”
“Hey,” Verity said earnestly, “Don’t tell Dr. Stone, okay? I think I’m gonna go sleep for about twelve hours. I don’t feel so great all of a sudden…”
“Okay, maybe she’s gonna feel like crap now,” he amended as she staggered off.
Sharra remained for a moment, leaning in close to Jason, looking more serious. “One thing—don’t know if you want to tell Alastair about it or not, but she was pretty tipsy by the time we got to the mini-golf place. I went off to use the head for a couple of minutes and when I got back, she was levitating golf balls around and giggling herself silly. I don’t think too many people really noticed, but—”
Jason sighed. “Great. So much for keeping a low profile.”
“Cheer up,” she said, turning to follow Verity. “Maybe it’ll draw them out. At least it would end the suspense.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Friday
Trin entered the tent a bit after sundown, poured herself a tall glass of water and added some of the ice that one of the soldiers had brought by earlier, and threw herself into a chair.
“Is everything in place?” Sam asked. He sat at a table, organizing what looked like a doctor’s bag full of various small vials.
“Yeah. I checked all the points around the circle to make sure those idiots didn’t fuck them up, but they look good, surprisingly. All we need to do is light them up when the time comes.”
“What about the other three?”
“Already loaded on the back of our vehicles,” she said. “Covered up and ready to go as soon as it gets dark. Too dangerous to set them up before that. Somebody might spot them and want to know what we’re doing out there.”
“Who cares?” Sam asked, shrugging. “They won’t mess with them. Everybody does their own thing around here.”
“Yeah, unless Stone and his bunch are here and they get wind of ’em,” she said. “Just as easy to set them up closer to the time. We’ll have plenty of room. The fun doesn’t start until the Burn anyway.” She stretched, taking a long drink. “Damn, I’ll be glad to get back to civilization. I’ve got dust everywhere. And I do mean fucking everywhere.”
Sam chose to ignore that.
“What have you been doing? Don’t tell me you’ve been sitting in here dicking around with whatever the hell you’ve got there.”
His expression grew cold. “Actually, I’ve been out talking with the others, making sure they’ll be ready for tomorrow night. You know, since the meeting before went so well when we got them all together.”
Trin sighed. “Yeah, yeah. So, are they ready?”
“They’re restless. A lot of them don’t think it’s going to work. We’ve really only got your word and Brandt’s that this will do what you say it will.”
“Yeah, you do,” she said, eyes hard.
“It would help if we could give them something to pacify them a bit.”
“They’re just gonna have to fucking deal,” she said. “Tell ’em I said that if you want.” She picked
an ice cube out of her drink and crunched it. “It’s a crap time to get cold feet now. I’m telling you: it will work. If everybody does their job, it’ll work. Dr. Brandt knows what she’s doing. Just make sure they’re ready, because we’ll need everybody on the same page to make sure it gets calibrated right when it gets here. Otherwise we’ll end up with a portal pointing at Mars or something.” She glared at him. “What are you doing over there, anyway? What is that stuff?”
“Nothing you need to worry about right now,” he said, closing up the bag. “You handle the magical end of things.”
Her eyes flashed fire. “Are you keeping secrets?” She began to rise from her chair, tiny licks of flame dancing around her hand. “I don’t like secrets, Sam.”
He sighed and shook his head. “No, I’m not keeping secrets.” He opened the bag again, indicating the neat row of vials inside. “If you must know, I got these samples from Dr. Millroy before we left. It’s a new mixture he’s been perfecting.”
“Who the fuck is Dr. Millroy?”
“He’s a soldier, back in New Mexico. Chemistry professor. He’s been working on a drug to amplify fear.”
She came over, intrigued. “And when were you going to tell me about this?”
“You didn’t need to know.” He raised an eyebrow at her, a very adult gesture on his childish face. “You don’t need any help causing fear, Trin. You’re quite frightening enough all by yourself.”
She smiled her snakey smile. “Damn right,” she admitted. “But what’s the point of this? Does it work?”
“He claims it does, and he’s tested it extensively. I’m no chemist, but he said it’s some sort of fast-acting cocktail of hallucinogens and amphetamines that’s designed to instill terror when administered. Supposedly the fear it produces is quite exquisite.”
“Interesting…” Trin said. “You planning to use it here? Maybe to stir up some of this fucking mellowness?”