by Adam Thielen
“You want to build larger spells out of small ones,” she followed.
“Weave,” he amended. “I want to weave spells together into something not normally possible.”
“Alright,” she said. “I hope you figure it out. I’ve said my bit on it. Want to take a break for a movie?”
“Ugh,” groaned Taq. “I should take a break, but you know we can’t ever finish one.”
Annie stepped behind the chair as Taq sat, and began to massage his shoulders. “Sure we can. We’ll just watch it in pieces.”
Taq agreed, and they started up a romantic comedy. Thirty minutes into it, Annie’s time was up. Jones walked her down the hall and stairs as he had many times before. In the lobby, she turned to him and hugged him tightly. The gesture took the mage by surprise, but he quickly hugged her back.
“I’ll miss you,” she said.
“I’ll miss you more,” he returned. He wanted to tell her to come back the very next day, but at the same time he did not want to push her away with clinginess, so he held his tongue as he had many times before.
But Annie Courtemanche never came back. Instead, Taq found a text message she had left for him:
Taq, I’m sorry to do this to you, but I can’t see you any longer. I can’t tell you everything, but I traveled here to find something, and I did. I wish I could stay, but there are other things I must do, and other places I must go. Believe in yourself and never settle. I know this hurts, but I hope you forgive me someday. -Annie
Jones read it, then he read it again. Then a third time. Like a dream, she had seemed so real and after she was gone he had almost no proof that she ever existed. He cried and he cursed her and then cried and cursed himself. He messaged her ID each day for a month hoping for a reply he knew would never come.
He lay in bed every night and stared at his tracking anklet, realizing that if he ever wanted to find her again, or find anyone for that matter, something would have to be done. Even if it meant risking his life to thwart the system.
Episode 7: Fire and Stone
Taq Jones squinted as daylight slipped in through a crack in the drapes. He rolled over to see Tsenka Cho exercising. The vampire started with a handstand, bent her elbows while kicking one leg in front of her and one leg behind, then straightened both her arms and legs in unison.
Taq watched in amazement at her strength and balance. She still wore her pajamas, though the top slid halfway up her chest and the pants gathered near her knees. He imagined the clothing was an annoyance to her as he watched and tried to count her repetitions, but began to feel fatigued himself after thirty or so.
Taken by the urge to pee, he stood and realized he was uncomfortably hard with morning wood. The mage placed a hand conspicuously over the bulge and hurried to the can, hoping Cho wouldn’t notice.
Tsenka placed both feet against the wall and switched to push-ups, then rolled into a squat, then jumped in the air. She kicked her legs out to each side then back in as she landed, squatted again, and repeated the jump. Cho continued switching to new moves, the restrictions of the room forcing her to get creative. She heard Taq start up the shower and continued with her routine.
The spray shut off and as Jones exited the bathroom, Cho dumped a load of pills into her mouth, followed by water from a squeeze bottle. Her mouth tightened as she forced the mix down her throat.
Taq watched her until she looked up at him. “Rejection meds?” he asked.
Tsenka nodded.
“I had thought maybe that was a temporary thing.”
“No,” she said. “Never found anything that lasted. Dosage gets a little stronger every couple years as my nocturnal healing continues to speed up.”
“Had no idea,” said Taq.
“The drugs may keep improving, or things may start to get interesting in a couple more decades,” she added. “And by interesting, I mean horrifying.”
The mage donned his adventuring outfit, pondering Cho’s plight. “You ever consider being a guinea pig for a cure?”
“To vampirism?”
Taq nodded.
“There is no cure,” she said. “Never will be. It’s not a disease, and it’s more than a condition. I don’t know what it is, but we aren’t all here,” she said, pointing at the ground. “We are connected to something.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s hard to explain,” said Cho. “I’ve just started to feel this way recently. Not feel; become aware of. As if we are all tied to something beyond this world.”
“Like God or heaven or something?” questioned Jones.
“I somehow doubt it’s divine in nature,” she said with a shrug.
“If you could cure it, would you?”
Tsenka began to pull at the hem of her shirt as if to remove it, but then stopped and opted to pull the clothing away from her chest to move the air about. “Not yet,” she said. “I can’t imagine being a frail human again, and fuck growing old, no offense.”
Jones sighed. “Not a fan of it myself.”
“You don’t look that bad for your age,” she offered. “You must work out.”
Taq grinned. “Uh huh, sure. A little. It’s not easy these days.” Jones walked back into the bathroom to brush his hair. He frowned as he came back out. “Ey, uh, sorry about making a big deal out of nudity and then gawking and just being weird in general.”
Cho continued tugging at her pajama top. “Since I already told you not to worry, you must want to talk about it some more.”
“No, I just wanted to apologize.”
“But you already had.”
“Again, more properly,” he added.
“I was confused at first,” said Cho. “I considered the possibility that you were just being super loyal to Kate.”
“Certain things I don’t want to feel anymore,” said Taq.
“Then I thought maybe you just worried about embarrassment, maybe rejection.”
“Hey, come on,” he said. “It’s not like that.”
Cho shrugged. “Sometimes I don’t see petty emotions as clearly as I used to.”
“Why are you trying to rile me up?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry, forget it.”
“It was selfish of me to expect you to act like I wanted.”
“Good,” she said, pulling her shirt off. “I was dying in that thing.”
Taq looked away and huffed.
“You can look,” she said. “Not like it bothers me.”
“Bothers me,” said Taq.
“I’ll bet.”
“I just don’t want to disappoint her,” he said, rifling through his duffel.
“Are you saying you’ve never been with anyone since?”
“That’s correct.”
“That can’t be healthy.” Tsenka pulled down her pajama pants and stepped into the bathroom. “Did you never have a talk?”
“A talk?”
“Surely you two talked about your life without her. I knew Kate. She wasn’t a jealous woman.”
“Isn’t,” corrected Taq.
“You know what I meant.”
“She said what anyone in her position would feel obligated to,” he continued. “For me to move on after a few years, etcetera. She thought the freezing was a dumb idea even as it was happening. Preferred to let herself… go.”
“I’m sure she would want you to be happy,” said Cho.
“Of course, but it just isn’t that simple, and if I had moved on, my second wife probably wouldn’t want me staring at you either,” he countered.
“This is what I mean,” said Cho. “Human sentimentality baffles me. I can hardly remember what feeling so constrained was like. In any case, you don’t have a second wife.”
“Nope, don’t want one.”
“Me either,” called Cho from the bathroom. She stared in the mirror with the door still open. “Not to antagonize you, but if you wanted to… ya know, work out some frustration… let me know. Would probably do you some good.�
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“I’m an old man, Tsenka.”
“Eh,” she replied with a shrug.
“I think you are just being nice, so thank you,” he said. “But my hand suits me just fine.”
Cho started up the shower. “Sure, but if you are going to think about me, why not just get the real thing?”
“Lordy, you are incorrigible,” he exclaimed. “Conversation over.”
* * *
Anne Courtemanche had invited Taq and Tsenka to accompany her to the Cepheid headquarters in the southern business district sitting between their hotel and the mage university further south. The tower that housed the important work and executives of the magical research corporation was the only one of its kind. At only fifty stories, it was a fairly modest building, and yet it was the tallest skyscraper built since the Collapse.
It was designed with grand balconies stretching fifteen meters outward in a circle every ten floors. The tops of such balconies were covered in solar cells, despite little need of additional power outside of the local nuclear plants. The undersides of the balconies curved from the edge to the exterior of the tower, with neo-LED screens displaying slogans and celebrities and animated graphics.
Taq gazed up at the building. He had seen taller, but there was something uniquely intimidating about the horizontal space the structure managed to fill. He turned to Anne.
“Are these guys really going to cooperate?” he asked her.
“I can’t say,” said Anne. “But even if not directly, perhaps your super-agent can extract something useful.”
“Sure,” said Taq. “Put anyone in a room alone with her, and I’m sure they’ll break eventually.”
“Not what I meant,” Anne replied.
“They can lie if they want,” said Cho. “But they won’t get away with it. It would help if I had access to their emails or security logs though.”
“My office has some intel on them,” said Anne as she led them through the large glass double doors. “I will alert you if I spot an opening to corner one of them.”
“Who are we talking to?” asked Taq. “Anyone important?”
“Leo Khan,” she answered. “He’s a member of the board. How much he knows about the day-to-day is unclear. And Shinah Williams, their vice-president of Ethereal research.”
“I bet she will have something to hide,” said Cho.
“Try to go in with an open mind,” suggested Courtemanche as they approached the front desk.
Taq stared at the gleaming marble floor and the perfect finish on the wooden counter. “Someone is paying these people a lot of money.”
The dark-skinned man at the desk looked at Taq, then smiled courteously. “Welcome, Ms. Courtemanche, are you expected?”
Anne moved shoulder to shoulder with Jones. “We are,” she said.
The man looked at a screen in the air that only he could see. “There you are,” he said. “You may make yourselves comfortable in the mezzanine conference room.”
The three did as told, climbing a short set of stairs and sitting at a table in front of a pane of glass that ran the entire length of the room. Taq helped himself to a muffin and a small cup of orange juice.
A message notification appeared on Tsenka’s HUD. Her neural interface had discovered a working key for the encrypted message. Then a second notification appeared informing her of a new message, this one from her troll-like contact, Bruce. She looked nervously at Anne, then the table, then the window, then back at Anne.
“Any idea which one will be first?” Cho asked her.
“No, and it isn’t outside the realm of possibility that they cancel on us,” she answered.
“Going to make it worth my time anyhow,” said Taq, stuffing the remainder of the muffin into his mouth.
Tsenka folded her arms with her fingers curling around her elbows and waited. Anne took a seat next to her and Taq continued to pace around the room for the next ten minutes.
A man appeared at the door, flung it open, and walked in confidently. He strode up to the table and reached across to Anne’s outstretched hand.
His face was covered in neatly trimmed stubble and the back and sides of his head were shaved bald. Wavy jet-black hair rested on the top. He wore a western-style tailored business suit. With his style and sharp features, it was clear to Cho that he was the face of the board. Useless, she thought, while taking her turn at greeting him.
“Very good to see you,” he said to Courtemanche. “And—”
“Taq,” said Cho, standing. “Something has come up, I have to go. I will try to be quick.”
“You have to go?” he asked, perplexed. “What’s going on?”
“Surely it can wait,” said Anne.
“It can’t,” Tsenka told her. “I sent you some topics to cover,” she said, turning to Taq. “I’m sorry.” She looked at the suit then back to Jones. “I can’t explain, but it’s important.”
“Do I need to go with you?” asked the mage.
Tsenka shook her head. “You’ll do fine here, and I’ll try to make it back to speak with Ms. Williams.”
“A’ight,” he said, raising his arms in a frustrated shrug. “Call me if you run into any problems.”
Cho nodded, then turned to the man. “Apologies, Mr. Khan.”
“Uh, no problem,” he said, giving her a sympathetic look.
Tsenka hurried out of the room and down the stairs as the other three stared after her. Awaiting her outside the double doors was the speediest midbike the automated cab company could offer. It was a full two meters in length, giving it the ability to accelerate quickly, though not quite to the extremes of an all-out longbike. As she stepped outside, mid-morning light slapped her in the face. Tsenka’s orbital patch slid into place and she pulled her mask up to her nose.
The vampire mounted the bike, leaning forward. She pressed her thumb to the interface and her HUD offered to sync controls. She paired her neural interface with the bike, then slid her arms through short carbon-fiber tubes meant to secure the rider in place. Her hands curled around grips that served no function other than something to hold on to.
Tsenka placed her feet in the metal stirrups and commanded the bike to move. It shot forward, reaching a hundred kilometers per hour in less than two seconds. Cho engaged her perfect recall system, which contained the knowledge and techniques of riding such a bike. The first intersection came quick, and Tsenka had to disengage the throttle to turn, then revved it back up, speeding down the road at twice the previous speed.
Sensors around the bike scanned for obstructions, other cars, and animals that might intercept her path. Cho’s HUD displayed her speed, the battery life of the midbike, and the path to Bruce’s apartment.
Two good leads. Leaving town early this morning. Don’t be late, his message had said. Now Tsenka weaved through sparse traffic along one of the major arteries of the city where she would not worry about cross-traffic. Lights and signs were still used in places, but without drivers to obey them, they had become less important. Self-drivers, usually technophobes, would still rely on signals piped to their vehicle’s networked system to determine right of way.
Cho’s HUD read two hundred and ninety-nine klicks an hour. The speed was intoxicating, but her glee was interrupted as the engine stuttered, incapable of accelerating further. She considered looking for a switch inside the bike’s interface to deactivate the limiter, but before she could, she spotted the apartments. Tsenka slowed for her turn then parked her ride next to an exterior set of metal stairs. She paid her fare for the next half hour and walked briskly through the narrow entryway into an equally narrow hallway.
The LEDs were shut off, leaving the hall dark, but Cho’s eyes could see clearly in low light, and she noticed Bruce’s door jammed open, likely off its rails. She stopped and listened, hearing only the pickup in her own heart rate. Light that filtered through a window inside of his room leaked out into the hall.
Tsenka reached for her gun, but it wasn’t there; she’d lef
t it back at the hotel. Shit. She slowly crept to the doorway and peered in. Shit! Bruce lay on the floor of his tossed apartment. His shirt was half-ripped from his torso while his feet were bare. Blood had pooled around his head, its face distorted, narrowed from having his skull crushed sideways.
Cho’s heart raced as she entered the apartment. She continued slinking toward her informant’s body, her head scanning around her. What leads, and who wanted you dead? she wondered, staring at his head, where deep inside his brain matter she would find his neural implant. She shook her head, deciding against it. Encrypted, she thought, and gross.
Despite long odds that the informant would have left anything out in the open, Tsenka started searching the studio for any clues, hoping to find some writing or markings or even an old-fashioned key. Action figures, shattered dishes, clothing, and broken silicon boards littered the floor. Cho bent over to comb through the remains of electronics, her eyes peeled for a portable drive of some sort.
The vampire stood up straight. She felt a presence behind her. She turned to face a tall man standing in the doorway. His face had a scarred-over gash running down one side. Short black hair had been frosted white at the ends and flowed back. From each side of his chin hung wispy tufts of hair. He wore a black bomber jacket over a white t-shirt with loose-fitting pants.
“D-did you do this?” asked Cho, unnerved by his ability to sneak up on her.
The man made her wait for his response. “Yes, Tsenka Cho.” His voice spoke in a smooth alto while his body continued its stillness.
Tsenka took a deep breath, swallowed her fear, and stepped toward the man. He was unmoving, allowing her to get close. Cho took the opportunity to swing for his chin, but he leaned back out of the way. Tsenka flowed into a left hook. The man leaned back again; this time one of his legs moved back, adjusting his stance. Cho stopped her swing and converted it to a jab, moving her body forward to reach his face.
But when her fist collided, the man’s head moved only slightly, repelling the blow. His skin felt like hardened leather wrapped around a large stone, and the strike stung her hand. Tsenka followed it with a straight punch from her right fist, but the large stone man had ducked while taking his own shot, heaving his fist into Tsenka’s gut.