Seeing Red

by Lyra Evans

  “Dunno, mate,” his friend said. “That brainwashing shit’s pretty scary. I mean, sure we could do some bad shit if they got us, but imagine the mess it would cause if a Selkie got hold of a Courtier. Or the Queen. That would be terrifying. They could turn the whole Court over to the Selkies and make us all their slaves or what.”

  Niko tried not to roll his eyes, so the orange-haired man did it for him. He snorted. “I don’t buy it, man,” he said. “Like Selkies are running around without anyone noticing. Like, what? We’re supposed to believe there’s hundreds of foreigners who are super attractive and can control your mind ready to pounce on any unsuspecting Fae? And all the fucking police on the streets haven’t caught any yet?” He made another dismissive noise. “Nah, man. It’s all a sham. I haven’t seen a single fucking Selkie, and I’ve been looking! Figured if they were that attractive I’d see if I could get some, y’know? Y’know for my list?”

  “The one where you try to fuck a girl and a guy from every race?”

  “Yeah, exactly,” he said. “Was almost done—just need to find a girl Werewolf—until this Selkie business. Imagine fucking a creature specifically meant to be hot and sexy? Bet it’s mind-blowing.” He paused, imagining it presumably, and Niko swallowed the bile in his throat. “Anyway, I haven’t come across one. Not one. It’s all fucking lies.”

  “But how would you know for sure? Maybe they did their mind tricks on you to make you leave or forget them,” his friend countered. Niko was suddenly surprised these two could hold down jobs as water delivery people, given their intellect suggested they hadn’t yet quite evolved to the point of cellular division. “And anyway, they really are around. Got proof. My friend’s cousin got to help with the investigation because he was mind-controlled. Attacked his girlfriend on a Selkie’s orders. They hauled him in when a neighbour called police because they heard her screaming, and when he got into the station, he had no idea what he was doing there. Said he didn’t remember anything except someone very pretty telling him to hurt his girlfriend.” He sighed and shook his head. “Poor dude. If they didn’t know about this Selkie stuff, he could’ve gone away for a long time.”

  Niko decided now was a good time to be elsewhere before he knocked this moron over the head and blew his cover. He had followed them through the stage door and small reception area there. A bored-looking, young woman flipped idly through a magazine behind a sign-in table no one was using. Perhaps it was the constant movement back and forth through the door that made the sign-in sheet useless, but Niko was mildly concerned about security.

  Beyond her was a hallway plastered with union posters and nearby hotels that offered long-term reservations for performers touring, as well as posters from previous shows. To the right of this were doors leading to different areas, some storage, some dressing rooms, and one to the main green room. The two water delivery guys disappeared into the green room, and Niko moved along beyond them toward the rear of house proper. Backstage was a bustling place. The cast were likely in dressing rooms, he imagined, and crew were running around, finalizing sets and costumes, arranging props and lighting rigs, and anything else that needed doing. It was supposed to be opening night for this show, from what Preston said, and Niko knew little about the life of a stage actor, but the chaos and buzzing frenzy he witnessed wasn’t quite what he expected. It seemed more like a blasé form of stress than excitement, though he couldn’t quite explain why.

  “You Sound?” someone asked, and Niko turned sharply. A woman with thick-rimmed glasses and messy yellow hair was staring at him expectantly. He hesitated only a moment.

  “Yeah,” he said, though it sounded more like a question to his own ears.

  She frowned. “Haven’t seen you before,” she said. “Where’s the usual guy? Jiemba?”

  “Looking for him myself,” Niko said quickly. “Supposed to be shadowing him.”

  “On opening night?” she asked, rubbing at her temple. “What the fuck is the union thinking? Never mind. I don’t want to deal with it. Just—find Jiemba and tell him to get to the prompt corner. There’s something fucking up with the audio there, and I can’t have sound off on opening fucking night. And get him to bring me an extra headset, mine’s fried.”

  “On it,” Niko said, though she had already turned around to make her way on to some other thing. He suspected she was the director or stage manager or something and decided it was best to avoid her in future.

  Shuffling between two women carrying a set of linked medieval stocks with runes carved into the backs of them, Niko hustled along toward the control room. He suspected the stocks were for that portion of the First Queen’s history when she put to death any of her dissenters, but given what Preston had said about the tone of the show, perhaps not.

  Niko moved through the wing space toward the pass door. The control room was a black box set at the back of the auditorium with a window overview of the stage and house. From there, all the various systems of the theatre were controlled, including lights, sound, and any special effects that a specific show might require. To get there, he would have to cross into the front of house, but on his way, he stopped briefly by the ladder that led up to the bridge across the stage. From there, crew members could access the various rigging systems necessary for the show, among other things. And it was somewhere up there that Noor Juniper was likely setting up.

  Something in him urged him up the ladder, to face Noor now and first, but he stopped himself. Noor was not his problem. So with a low breath, Niko swung through the pass door and into the front of house.

  The main auditorium was lavish and beautiful, with rich red carpeting through the aisles and plush red seats, adorned with brass, fanning out from around the orchestra pit and stage. The ceiling was domed in the centre, antique paintings adorning the surface of it and circling the massive crystal chandelier that hung from the dome. Private boxes protruded like mushrooms on a tree from either side of the house, each with a red curtain to match the house curtain along the stage. The balcony along the back of the theatre was decorated with bas-relief designs of winged figures in clouds playing musical instruments and sprinkling stars across the banner of the sky. And fitted at the back of the auditorium, just between the entry doors at either aisle and beneath the balcony, was the black control room.

  Niko made his way along the aisle with purpose, finding the partially camouflaged side door to the booth partially ajar. With a deep breath, he entered without warning. A man with terracotta skin and neon green eyebrows looked up in surprise. He was completely bald, and Niko thought it was likely because his neon green natural hair colour wasn’t conducive to his job as stage crew.

  “Who’re you?” he asked.

  “No time for that now,” Niko said, feigning breathlessness. “Technical issues with audio in the prompt corner, and if it doesn’t get fixed soon, someone’s gonna lose their head. Not sayin’ who. And need an extra headset.”

  “Shit, again? I told them to stop fucking with potions near the equipment. That shit is sensitive,” he said, rolling his eyes. He got to his feet instantly, grabbed a headset from a shelf, and pushed by Niko, leaving the control room empty.

  Slipping inside, Niko gently closed the door behind him. The room was small and rather warm, fitted with a few rolling chairs and a massive board of dials and sliders facing the window. The desk of sliders was dotted with tiny light bulbs, some lit green, others red, and still others not lit at all. There were labels for every toggle, and haphazard sticky notes or tape affixed next to certain sliders and dials indicating levels that should not be exceeded, switches that should definitely not be flipped, and other little details specific to this show. Beneath the table was a mass of wires likes some mutated cephalopod had died on top of the desk and let all its excess of tentacles drop down by the wall. The wires all connected to either the wall or a set of standing towers connected to the two monitor screens set into the base of the desk. A soft magic buzzed over the screens, likely to combat glare and excess
light pollution for the back of the auditorium.

  Niko pulled out the necessary cables and components he brought and got to work, crouching down beneath the surface of the desk. There was an immediate problem, however. All the cables looked essentially identical, which made identifying what he needed to do somewhat more difficult. He first shimmied behind the towers, plugging in one end of his cable to the right slot. That was the easy part. He also had to connect the other end of this cable to the correct input amid the mass of cables.

  Time ticked down in Niko’s head, his heartbeat counting out the seconds. No space for mistakes. He ran fingers along sets of wires, following them up to their outputs to try and identify their purposes. Then, with a heavy sigh, he swiped a hand over his fingers and made a set of trades to fine tune his senses to what he needed. When he found the right cable, he nearly cried out in relief.

  A sudden flood of light filled the booth, and Niko jerked out of his position, afraid to get caught tampering with things. He hit his head hard on the underside of the desk, swearing under his breath. Rubbing at his scalp, he squinted around the room but found no one there. It took a moment to realize the light was coming from out in the house. Someone had turned the lighting to full blast in the auditorium. A quick glance out the window showed ushers walking the aisles to do a check of the seats for anything out of place.

  Niko breathed out, releasing tension in his shoulders, and settled himself into one of the rolling chairs. He poked at a few buttons, and one of the monitors sprang to life. The clock on the screen told him he was running short on time if he wanted to get in position unnoticed.

  Heart racing, Niko flipped through the different windows on the screen, adjusting each setting carefully. Tapping at the final adjustment, Niko quickly closed the windows and pulled out the last of his tools. For this, he needed an outlet. Holding the small black device in hand, he searched around himself. The towers beneath the desk were all plugged into power bars, but those were fully in use. Unplugging anything was out of the question. Turning to the back of the room, Niko found a set of shelves and cabinets filled with extra cables and headsets, spare mics and earpieces, and anything else they might need on hand. But he couldn’t find a fucking outlet to save his life. Which was kind of the type of stakes he was dealing with.

  “Why’s this door closed?” a voice asked as the knob turned and door opened. Niko blanched. A young man with purple hair walked in, headset around his neck rather than on his head. He was lanky and had an easy demeanour Niko couldn’t quite relate to in that moment. “Hey, man, what’s up? You need something?”

  Momentarily frozen, Niko closed his hand around the device in hand. “Yeah, just wondering where I can charge my phone?” he asked, aiming for sheepish and kind of useless.

  The guy nodded. “Ah, feel you, man,” he said. “We’re not really s’posed to have phones in the control booth…” He looked over his shoulder as though someone might be watching him. “But here’s a little trick I’ve been using. Don’t spread it around, though.” He moved to the cabinet on the farthest side of the room opposite the door. Shifting it slightly, he revealed a pocket of space hidden behind the front panel of the cabinet. Against the wall there was an unused outlet. “Been stowing my phone here to charge and checking it on breaks and stuff. You can put yours there for now, if you want, as long as you come get it before at intermission.”

  Niko tried not to look too gleeful as he squatted down, pretending to plug in a phone charger as he plugged in his device. “Thanks, man,” he said. “Life saver.”

  “Whoa! Is that a gun?” the guy asked, his voice turning hushed at the end. Niko straightened sharply.

  “Ah, shit, sorry,” he said, thinking fast. “Not supposed to let anyone see.” He tried to seem embarrassed, which was a stretch from the terror he felt.

  “What you need a gun for?” the man asked, caught between alarm and awe.

  Niko made a calculated guess. Leaning in conspiratorially, he said, “Increased security. With everything going on, you know? Supposed to be kind of undercover, just in case. They don’t want people to find out and panic, cancel tickets… You won’t mention it to anyone, will you?”

  Understanding dawned on the young man’s face, and he nodded happily back, now fully amazed by Niko’s simple existence.

  “You got it, bro, for sure,” he said. “Secret’s safe with me.”

  The guy flipped him some finger guns to confirm this, and Niko offered him a nod and a wink in return, exiting the booth and making his way quickly back down the aisle toward the pass door to the back of house. Heart racing, he worked to calm down. There was only one item left in his possession now, but he would have to place that after he came face to face with Phoebe. And given the buzzing backstage, that should be very soon.

  He managed to make his way through the groups of people milling about, getting into position, putting the final touches on makeup or props or whatever else. Ambiance shifted as the auditorium lights lowered and all non-essential lighting was turned off entirely.

  “House is about to open, everyone, so get to your marks,” a voice called. It sounded much like the woman from earlier Niko took to be the stage manager. “No crossing the stage anymore. We’re on in twenty.”

  Which meant Niko was on in five.

  Chapter 30

  The cross over was the area behind the backdrop or curtain that hung at upstage, blocking off sight of the rigging and sets, among other things. In some shows, the actors or crew might use the cross over to travel from one side of the stage to the other off scene. In the case of this particular performance, actors only entered and exited the scene from one side. Niko didn’t really get it, but apparently it was some kind of symbolism in the stage directions. He had little time or care for those kind of details; all it meant to him was that no one would be back there at that time. Long enough, he hoped to do what needed to be done with Phoebe Linden.

  Because it wasn’t in use, the crew seemed to be employing the cross over as storage for extra sets and equipment. Access to it was blocked off by a number of set pieces standing in the wings and a large, rolling costume rack packed with items Niko surmised were from different productions. He slipped between some of the set pieces, holding one of the tools he’d been given in hand. A glance over his shoulder to see if anyone was paying attention, Niko pushed a hand between some of the costumes on the rack to separate them, then ducked through them to the other side.

  Keeping low to avoid being noticed over the top of the rack, Niko shuffled down the crowded area toward the actual cross over. It was dark back there, the lighting along the battens was all aimed outward across the stage, for obvious reasons. The corridor of the cross over was filled with dark shadows and heavy anchors lending it the look of a passage guarded by monsters. It smelled of dust and rope and just a hint of rubber. Setting the tool in his hand back into the belt, he unclasped the belt and set it aside in a corner out of the way.

  Making a trade in one of his hands, he pressed his palm to the back wall of the theatre and reached out with magical senses. There was nothing out of place that he could tell. So with one last scan down the passage, he steeled himself and removed the cuffs and collar, placing them with the tool belt on the ground. His gun holster he clipped to his pants, hiding it beneath his shirt as before. But he was unconcerned about its presence. Phoebe would notice it, he was sure, no matter what he did.

  He crouched down in order to remove the cuffs and collar, sidling up to the curtain behind one of the massive reels of cable that formed part of the fly system for the theatre. Impossible to tell what this particular one was attached to, what it might be steadying or hoisting, from this angle. Part of Niko wondered if all the hoists were in use for the show, or if Noor had perhaps commandeered one for her own purposes. Did the stage crew know? Were they knowingly allowing her presence? They didn’t seem to know Niko was there—or rather, probably assumed he was supposed to be. Had Noor gotten in the same way? With a simple disg
uise and a tag that said ‘crew’?

  No time to worry about Noor, he reminded himself. She was being taken care of. Had to be. He wouldn’t know it until it was too late though. The fly system, fly floors, and bridges were all equipped with the same runes and warding to soundproof them as the perimeter of the stage. Anything happening in the wings, backstage, or up above would be essentially impossible to hear from the audience and, consequently, from each other section. That was what the headsets were for. Crew had to communicate back and forth over the headsets if they were in different areas to cut through the magic. Niko removed his headset last.

  Getting to his feet, he walked slowly down the cross over. He stepped over lengths of rope and cable and around piles of counterweights. Pressing his hands back together, he traded back for his regular senses, then palmed the small item he had to pin into place later. If he lived that long.

  Cobalt’s words flared through his head again, and he exhaled sharply. But there was no time to think on his habit of brushing off his potential death. Niko had never been suicidal in his life, no matter what he was going through. But he also wasn’t afraid of death. Not like most people were. He didn’t want to die. But it was an inevitable conclusion of life. And police officers tended to have a somewhat shorter life expectancy than the average Fae. Undercover officers even more so. It was a dangerous job. He’d known that going in. He’d chosen this. Cobalt’s job had to be just as dangerous, no? He was a Royal Guard, meant to throw himself in the line of fire to protect the royal family. Among other things. Cobalt would have willingly taken the attack that killed Prince Indigo on their last case. If he had been there. Was it so unreasonable for Niko to willingly walk into danger for justice’s sake?