by Lisa Smedman
Carla shook her head. “You’re crazy,” she told him. “That spirit nearly killed you. What do you want to mess with it again for?”
“Why. Miss Carla”-Aziz arched an eyebrow-“if you keep talking like that, you’re going to make me think you still care for me.” He reached out for her cheek with fingers that smelled of burn cream.
Carla jerked her head away, sorry now that she’d revealed her feelings. Aziz was the same stupid slot he’d always been, putting his quest for magical knowledge ahead of his own safety. Ahead of her.
The mage lowered his hand and sighed. “If anyone should understand, it’s you, Carla,” he said. “This is a brand new form of spirit. Something that’s never been seen before in the hermetic tradition. I’ve got to know more about it.” He tried to catch her eye. “It’s just like when you’re onto a big story. You have to follow it through to the end. Well, it’s the same with mages. Once we get our teeth into something we-”
Carla held up a hand. “I don’t want to get into that old argument,” she told him curtly. “I don’t have the time right now. I’ve got a news story to pursue.” She stood. “You can help too, if you like. But I don’t want to have to worry about you getting killed mucking about with uncontrollable spirits. I’d rather know you were tucked inside your shop, safe behind its wards.”
“That’s the other thing,” Aziz said slowly. “The shop. It’s gone.”
“Gone? You make it sound like it dematerialized or something.”
“There was a fire. Two nights ago, while I was gathering the materials I needed to cast the spell. The store was completely gutted. All those books…” His face crumpled and Carla thought he was actually going to cry.
“My god,” Carla said. “That fire on Denny Way. That was your shop? I was so busy putting the Matrix story together that I didn’t pay any attention to the trideo feeds that night. I’m so sorry, Aziz. I know how much the shop meant to you.”
“At least I had insurance,” the mage said bitterly. “And a hardcopy printout of the Mitsuhama spell,” he added, patting one bulging pocket. “The memory chip you gave me burned up in the fire.”
“I don’t think so,” Carla said slowly. She screwed the top back onto the burn cream, then toyed with the tube, unwilling to look Aziz in the eye. “There was something I didn’t tell you the morning we came to your shop. The girl who saw the mage die-Pita-was being chased by two yakuza when we caught up to her. They were after the chip. I didn’t think they’d still be looking for it after our story on the spirit aired. It should have been too late by then for them to continue trying to plug the leak. But I guess I was wrong. Maybe they thought there was something on the chip that would link the spell to Mitsuhama. They probably saw the interview I did with you, broke into your store, and set the fire to cover their tracks once they had what they’d come for.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Aziz. Really. I didn’t realize that this would happen.”
“So Mitsuhania sent its goons after the chip, did they?” Aziz frowned, then winced as the movement pulled his skin. “And you haven’t seen Pita for two days? That doesn’t sound good.”
“I thought you said you just saw her.”
“In astral form, only,” Aziz corrected. “Her physical body could have been anywhere. Even in the clutches of the yakuza. Maybe she came to me for help.”
Carla felt a stab of guilt. Maybe she should have kept a closer eye on the kid. But she was a reporter with a story to follow. Masaki was better at playing mother hen than she was. Let him fuss over the street urchin. “The kid’s probably fine,” she said in a deliberately reassuring tone, “Masaki has lots of contacts. He’ll track her down sooner or later.
“But there is something I need your help with. I learned the names of three mages who worked with Farazad on the development of the spell. If I can get one of them to agree to an interview, I can verify that the spirit was developed as part of a Mitsuhama research project. And maybe, in the process, I’ll find out more about how to work the spell.”
“What are the names of these mages?” Aziz asked, instantly hooked. “Maybe I know one of them. I’ve met a number of Seattle’s mages over the years, through the shop.”
Carla recited the names she’d pulled from the personnel file: “Evelyn Belanger, Rolf Hosfeld, and Miyuki Kishi.”
“Belanger. Hmm… Is she a big woman in her thirties, with dark hair and a soft voice?”
“I wouldn’t know about the voice. But the dark hair fits with the picture in her personnel file. Do you know her?”
Aziz nodded. “She’s a regular customer, although she hasn’t been to the shop in months. She was always looking for rare books on botany and herbal lore. She’s an avid gardener. And from the little she’s told me about her garden, I gather that it’s quite something. She moonlights by growing herbs and exotic plants for use in fetishes. I knew she was a wage mage, but never did ask what company she worked for. So it’s Mitsuhama, huh? No wonder she has so much money to drop or antique books.”
“Would she remember you?”
“Oh sure. I special-ordered material for her more than once.”
“Would she find it odd if you paid her a visit?”
“Not if I said I’d finally found one of the books she’s been looking for.”
“And could you find one on short notice?” Carla asked. “And deliver it this afternoon? And at the same strike up a conversation about the conjuring spell ‘some reporter from KKRU’ asked you to comment on?”
A sly grin stole across Aziz’s face. “I’ve got a book home that would be perfect,” he said. “It’s badly water-stained, and some of the pages are missing. I didn’t think that it would sell, so I’ve been scanning some of the undamaged illustrations and selling them on-line. But perhaps our wage mage would like to own the original art. The book is old enough and rare enough to interest her-despite its condition.”
“Perfect.” Carla clapped Aziz on the back. “Let’s go get it.”
* * *
The ruse worked even better than Carla had hoped. Evelyn Belanger was at home when Aziz called. She said she was working and was quite busy. Carla could guess why; after the system crash at the research lab that morning, the mages would have rushed home to see what they could salvage from their own files. But after hearing that an extremely rare herbals book was available at a cut-rate price and that a second buyer was also interested and might purchase it if she didn’t make up her mind quickly, Evelyn agreed to take a break and meet with Aziz later that afternoon.
Belanger lived in a modest wooden house, perhaps a century old, in Brier, a semi-rural section of Snohomish. Much of the district had been gobbled up by agri-business, but the area still contained a scattering of half-hectare hobby farms. Evelyn’s home was on one of those properties, but instead of a barn, her backyard boasted a large, flower-filled garden.
When Aziz showed her the book, Evelyn Belanger invited him to join her for a cup of tea and readily agreed to his request for a tour of her garden. She obviously enjoyed showing it off. Carla, listening from the sidewalk while cloaked in an invisibilty spell Aziz was sustaining, slipped around the house and in through a side gate. She caught up to the two mages as they emerged through a door at the back of the house and tiptoed behind them, careful not to knock anything over or brush against anything that made noise.
Aziz, too, had cloaked himself with a spell. His was a simpler form of magic-a mask that hid the reddened blisters on his face and hands. No sense in giving the game away too early; Evenly Belanger would probably be able to take one look at his injuries and guess what he’d been up to.
The backyard was large and parklike. Paths of natural gravel wound their way between garden beds and raised boxes filled with a profusion of vegetation. There were leafy bushes, variegated vines drooping over the cedarwood slats of the raised plant beds, fragrant-smelling herbs, and daisies with wide, sun-yellow flowers. Clumps of chives thrust up between the other plants, their purple powder-puff blossoms lendin
g a delicate scent to the air. Wind rustled a patch of bamboo in one corner of the garden, and water gurgled in a rock-lined pond whose surface was covered with white-flowered water lilies.
Belanger led Aziz to two benches arranged at right angles to one another near the center of the garden, sheltered by a gazebo. She placed the tea tray on a table that stood between them, then motioned her visitor to sit down.
Wary of the crunching noises her feet made on the gravel path, Carla stopped where she was, a few paces away from the benches. Behind her, rain pattered gently on the leaves.
Carla looked around cautiously. She didn’t see any overt security-either technological or magical. Either Evelyn Belanger trusted her semi-rural neighborhood to be crime-free or she was confident she could protect herself with her magic.
Mitsuhama seemed to trust Belanger more than they had Mrs. Samji; there was no evidence of a watcher or paranormal guardian. The only animal present at the house was a calico cat that ran down the path to join Belanger on the bench. The animal’s whiskers twitched as it passed Carla and paused to sniff the air around her ankles. Fortunately Belanger didn’t notice the animal’s reaction.
Aziz sat on the bench and admired the garden, sipping chamomile tea and murmuring politely while Belanger described the various plants that grew around them. There was woad, the dye plant used by the ancient Celtic warriors to stain their bodies blue, and now popular with mages who specialized in combat spells. Mandrake, whose dark, forked root was used as a fetish in spells affecting the emotions-love spells, in particular. Pennyroyal, used in purification spells. And mistletoe and slippery elm, favored by both European druids and Native American shamans.
Belanger spoke lovingly about each plant, describing it in a gentle voice. She was a large woman, taller than Aziz and probably twice the weight of the rail-thin mage. She dressed in plain, earth-brown clothing. If she’d chosen, she could have been an imposing presence. But she had the soft features and quiet voice of a woman who took pleasure in sitting back and watching events unfold like the slow blossoming of a rose.
Aziz started to turn the conversation around to the events of the other night. As he did, Carla focused her eyecam and did a slow zoom on Evelyn Belanger. At the same time, she cupped a hand behind her ear so the pickup slaved into her eardrum would catch the soft voice of the wage mage. She boosted the gain a little and stepped up the filters, eliminating the faint patter of rain that came from the edge of the garden.
“… see me on the trideo the other night?” Aziz was asking. “I was interviewed by a reporter from KKRU who wanted my opinion on a spell formula that was written on an datachip she’d been given. The chip was ah… found… in the pocket of a mage who worked for Mitsuhama. His name was Farazad Samji. The reporter let me keep the chip so I could study the spell, and I’ve been trying to figure out the formula ever since. I thought that, since you worked with the fellow who had the spell, you might be able to help me decipher…”
His voice tailed off as he noticed the way Belanger's eyes had narrowed. “What makes you think I can tell you anything about this spell?” she asked.
Aziz gave a deliberately casual shrug. “The file was tagged with the Mitsuhama logo,” he lied. “So assumed it was developed at your lab.”
“Nice try,” the wage mage said softly. She reached for the antique book Aziz had placed on the bench and pushed it back at him. “1 was one of your regular customers, but I never did tell you where I worked. Who sent you here? The reporter?”
Carla cursed silently to herself as Aziz’s usual suave manner deserted him. At least he had the sense not to look around to see if Carla had suddenly become visible. That would have been a complete giveaway.
“No one sent me,” Aziz said, nervously licking his lips. “I just wanted to find out why Mitsuhama wanted the spell formula back so badly.”
His voice grew hard. “Did the goons your corporation sent after the chip tell you what they did after they found it? No? Well, they burned down my shop. All of those books-gone in a puff of smoke. Books I’d spent years collecting. Valuable books. Rare magical tomes. Gone. Destroyed.” He made a chopping gesture with his hand, then took a deep, shuddering breath. “Ignorant bastards,” he said under his breath.
“I’m sorry to hear about your shop. I really liked it. All of your lovely books…” Evelyn Belanger’s regret sounded genuine.
“I tried to learn more about the spell on the chip myself,” Aziz said. “In doing so, I managed to attract the attention of the astral entity that killed Farazad-with disastrous results, as you can see.” With a wave of his hand, he negated the spell that had been masking his blisters and red skin.
Belanger’s eyes widened. Then her lips whitened as she pressed them together. “You were lucky to have survived. Farazad was the only one who was ever able to control that thing, and it killed him just the same. What made you think you could do better, now that it’s a free spirit?”
“1 used… Hey, wait a minute.” Aziz sat up a little straighter, eyes glittering. “Farazad didn’t just summon the spirit and then lose control of it? He actually had it bound beforehand? Then how was it able to kill him?”
Evelyn stared at Aziz. For a moment, Carla thought she wasn’t going to answer, that she would simply ask Aziz to leave. But then she seemed to change her mind.
“Farazad said it wasn’t right to keep the spirit capive,” Evelyn answered. “Perhaps he was foolish enough to set it free.”
Then she sighed. “Whatever the explanation is, the secret of how to control the thing died with him.”
Carla frowned, uncertain what to think, If Evelyn was telling the truth-and seemed to be genuinely confiding in Aziz-none of the other mages who had worked on the Lucifer Project had been able to control the spirit once it was summoned. And this despite the fact that, according to their personnel files, they were more adept in the magical arts than Farazad had been. Somehow, only Farazad knew how to find the spirit, and he had held this critical piece of data back from his fellow researchers.
Refusing to keep the spirit bound and setting it free would have made sense, given Farazad’s Zoroastrian faith. He’d honestly believed that the spirit was a messenger sent by his god. Enslaving a holy messenger just wasn’t done; it was hardly something he’d want some other mage to do-even one of those involved in the spell’s development. At the same time, Farazad was a hermetic researcher, a man every bit as meticulous as his wife. He must have kept some notes somewhere, describing the process he’d used to bind the spirit. Perhaps Mitsuhama had assumed that these notes were on the datachip Farazad had intended to hand over to Masaki during his interview. That would explain why the corp had been so keen on obtaining the chip. Someone at Mitsuhama must have had their hopes bitterly dashed when it was at last recovered.
Aziz watched the other mage carefully as he spoke. “I can’t control the spirit that killed Farazad either,” he said slowly.
Belanger’s lips pressed together in a frustrated line. “But I know someone who can.”
Belanger drew a sharp breath. “You do? Who?”
Instinctively, Carla made a chopping motion at her throat-the on-air sign for “cut,” Don't let the cat out of the bag, Aziz, she thought furiously. Don’t tell them about Pita’s magical abilities or they’ll-Aziz waggled a blistered finger at the wage mage.
“That’s going to be my secret, for now,” he said smugly. “If Mitsuhama wants the answer, they’ll have to pay for it.” He held up a hand to still Belanger’s protest. “Not a lot of money, mind you. I’m not greedy. Just enough to put me back in business again, say, three hundred thousand nuyen or so. I’d like a new shop, one with a private thaumaturgical lab in back. I’m sure Mitsuhama can spare the nuyen. The corporation can draft a contract to bring me temporarily on board as a private thaumaturgical consultant, and make it all nice and legal. Just be sure to tell your bosses not to send their goons after me in the meantime. I’ll be more willing to cooperate without their ‘persuasion.’
”
“How can I assure my superiors that you’ve actually got something to offer?”
Aziz tapped his burned cheek lightly. “I survived my encounter with the spirit, didn’t I? That proves that I-and my colleague-have some degree of control over it. The knowledge of how to do that ought to be worth something.”
“We’ll see.” Belanger tried to shrug casually, but the tension she must have been feeling was evident in the set of her shoulders. She rose to her feet. “Stay in touch. I'll let you know what the lab’s director says.”
Drek! Is that going to be it? Carla zoomed out for a head-to-toe shot of Evelyn Belanger escorting Aziz back through her garden. She still didn’t have the documentary evidence she needed to complete her story. Belanger had more or less admitted that the Mitsuhama research lab was the source of the spell, but hadn’t said anything direct enough to be used in a newscast. Aziz had been too greedy, and the other mage’s replies to his questions too vague.
Carla was tempted to make her presence known, to confront Evelyn Belanger with what they knew so far, and go for a gut-level reaction shot. But then she stopped herself. Belanger wasn’t the sort who could be startled into talking. Subtlety was the key here. But subtlety had failed.
Aziz and Belanger had reached the front gate. With a sigh, Carla stopped shooting trid and sneaked out along side path. She hadn’t gotten much, but perhaps she could use what she’d learned thus far. If she could arrange a meeting with one of the other two mages who’d worked on the project with Farazad, maybe she could entice one of them to talk. The interview would have to be set up quickly, before Aziz sold out the ork girl-if indeed that was what he had in mind. Carla didn’t think her ex was that devious, but then she hadn’t expected the curve he’d just thrown either. Was his offer to consult for Mitsuhama a spur-of-the-moment pitch, or had it been in his mind all the time?