by Jen Kirchner
We had remained in a huddle through two passes of the chorus when Ryan nodded, indicating that we were about to end the song.
Apparently, Cody had other ideas. He took a few steps backward to get free of our little huddle, then ripped off the keytar and slammed it onto the stage, shattering the instrument into a thousand bits of plastic and metal that flew in every direction. He dropped the handle and took off running across the stage, toward the edge. Toward the crowd.
I’m a consummate professional. I keep the show going no matter what, save for Brad’s command to stop. So, as Cody leapt from the stage and careened through the air, arms outstretched and legs akimbo in an apparent attempt to crowd surf, I watched with morbid fascination and kept on singing.
The crowd parted, opening up a Cody-sized hole. Cody fell through and landed face-first on the marble floor.
He wasn’t moving. He was breathing, though. Cody was out cold.
Nicolas was out of his drum kit in a flash, his shirtless, tattooed torso glistening with sweat as he streaked by and hopped off the stage to where Cody lay motionless. Merel and Ryan stopped playing, and I finally stopped singing.
Walkie-Talkie was right behind Nicolas, moving a lot faster than I expected, rushing across the stage and jumping down to check Cody. He shouted for everyone to back away and give Cody some air. A strain of energy blossomed nearby, and I saw faint blue runes hover in the air between Nicolas and Cody. Nicolas was trying the Mindwipe. The energy of his blossoming spell sputtered, and the runes dissipated. My heart twisted. This wasn’t going to work.
Nicolas took a deep breath, bent at the waist, hands on his knees, and tried again.
Someone bumped into Nicolas. The blue runes wavered in the air over Cody’s head. Nicolas cried out and grabbed his head, as if he were experiencing an ice cream headache. The energy flared, and the spell snapped together.
I gasped, shocked that it might have actually worked. Ryan reached over and pressed a finger against the back of my hand, sharing my sight. Small beads of blue light appeared above Cody’s and Nicolas’s heads and then moved around each of their heads in unison, a slow, swirling pattern that wound down to their necks before winking out.
Nicolas backed away, rubbing his temples with one hand and swiping his tongue on the back of his other hand. He was making gagging noises and he looked like he was going to vomit.
I could only take that to mean that the Mindwipe had worked, and now Nicolas’s brain thought that Nicolas had kissed me on the runway, and not Cody.
Awkward. I hadn’t thought of that side effect. No wonder Nicolas was initially resistant to the Mindwipe plan. He was officially my favorite person, though. I had no idea how to repay him for this, but I would. Somehow.
Cody stirred.
“Boss?” Walkie-Talkie said.
Cody moaned.
I raised the microphone to my mouth. “Cody? Are you okay?”
Cody’s eyelids fluttered open. He looked up at me, glassy-eyed. A weak smile flickered on his mouth. “You’re so pretty.”
His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he passed out.
The crowd let out a delighted “Aww!”
“I’m gonna throw up,” Nicolas said.
Chapter Nineteen
My channel-induced headache was the most intense I’d ever experienced. There were one too many things crammed into the fourth channel with me now, and it was my own damn fault for falling onto that power. At the moment, though, it didn’t matter, because I was overtaken by the beauty of my house.
Sure, the lawn was still four different shades of brown and the weird splatter on my garage door seemed to have gotten bigger, but Nicolas’s frail access spell was gone and a new, vibrant one swirled around my property. It wasn’t hard for me to see through its tangled layers to the magical fingerprint of the spell’s creator: Marcus Servilius. My lawyer and surrogate uncle was back from Stockholm.
Good luck getting past this, Intelligence!
Speaking of Norayr and Ronel, they weren’t staking out my house today like they had before I’d gone to Vegas. I guessed that was because I had an official offer of citizenship from the Immortal State. I should be safe, if only for a few extra hours, until I had to give the State an unequivocal no to having my magic tested.
Luucas wasn’t home. The house was quiet and a little musty with neglect. I hauled my luggage into the elevator and left it inside. I took a shopping bag down to the lab.
I dropped the bag on the counter and opened the panic room door. The mountain of cardboard boxes looked the same as it had when I left. Nothing had been removed, but nothing new had been added, either. Progress, I decided.
The wall of smoke coating the metal drawers told me that the knives had been chatting up a literal storm just before I arrived. I pulled open their drawer. Heavy black smoke collected on my cheeks and filled my eyes.
Kari! I’m glad you’re home. We need to talk.
I waved away the smoke just enough to see the knife box.
“We definitely need to talk, Stubby. Unfortunately, I don’t have much time, because I need to get Nadia and be back in time for a date with Cody Springer.”
I didn’t want to go on a date, but it seemed the least I could do after having Nicolas Mindwipe him.
Besides, he’d flown back in his jet with us, and I was legally required to date him. I doubted I could make Mikelis more mad at me, anyway.
If Intelligence wanted to try to take me out of the picture tonight, they’d have a hard time doing it covertly with Cody’s entourage of photographers and bodyguards. I may as well get one of our dates out of the way.
I picked up the knife box and took it out into the lab. Longy puffed with smoke.
There's no time to discuss your disastrous dating life, Kari. This is serious.
Rambo couldn’t hush its monotone mental voice. Its attempt at a whisper hit me with all the stealth of a foghorn.
It was serious before. I said so and got voted down.
I set the box on the table; not gently, but not hard either. It was firm enough to call their attention to the fact that I’d taken them out of the panic room, but I didn’t add any commentary. I flipped open the lid.
Wait a minute. What are we doing out here?
Longy sounded nervous. I rarely took the knife box from the panic room. It only happened for major events.
I readjusted the box so that it faced the counter, giving the knives some time to orient themselves to their new surroundings. The shopping bag was front and center on the counter, decorated in bright primary colors and plastered with children’s images: balloons, candy, teddy bears, and toy trains, among others.
Uh, what’s in the bag?
“Stubby, you said you wanted presents.” I flashed a humorless smile. “These are your presents.”
By presents I meant something cool like Midnight Morgue Commandos: Season Four.
Smoke snaked around Longy.
We don’t have time for this!
I ignored the comment and folded my arms across my chest. “In the last few days, I’ve witnessed some unacceptable behavior—the worst behavior Stubby and Longy have ever exhibited.”
We can explain—
As far as I was concerned, the time for apologies was over. I raised my voice and talked right over Stubby. “First, Longy begged to be taken outside, only to shout our presence to the world.”
If you would just listen—
“And then, mere hours later, Stubby hijacked Ryan’s body. Both of you were assured big-time punishment for your actions.” I swept my hand across the counter, over the shopping bag. “And here it is.”
Hang on!
Before they could say more, I reached into the bag and rustled the tissue paper, loudly, drawing the knives’ attention. I pulled out a fluffy brown teddy bear wearing a sparkly white jumpsuit with gold trim, a pair of black sunglasses, and a black, slicked-back wig.
While stunned silence fell over the knives, I took the opportunity
to explain the bear’s functions.
“He’s an Elvis teddy bear. Isn’t he adorable? But wait, there’s more!” I flipped the bear around and unzipped its costume. Underneath, there was a switch to turn the bear on and off, and a plastic cover hiding the batteries and a cassette. “It’s battery powered, so the bear can dance and sing. And the cassette plays on a loop, which is awesome, because then it won’t stop until the batteries run out, or until I turn it off.”
It was deeply discounted because no one uses cassettes anymore. As they say, one woman’s trash is another woman’s sacrificial knife punishment.
I zipped up the teddy bear’s gold-trimmed britches and sat the toy on the counter.
The knives stared, saying nothing for a full minute. Their revulsion was palpable. Rambo’s monotone giggle broke the spell, the sound not unlike a machine gun.
Tee. Hee. Hee. Hee. Hee. Hee. Hee.
I grabbed a second bear from the bag and set it next to the Elvis bear. Stubby actually gasped. This one had light brown fur, a white sequin dress with a single shoulder strap, and a long, blonde wig. I stepped back and couldn’t help but smile.
“Get it? It’s a Marilyn Monroe bear! Adorable, right?”
Stubby and Longy lost their minds, shouting and blaming each other for the mix-up, while begging me to let them explain.
Rambo managed to stop giggling long enough to interject.
This might be the greatest punishment of all time.
I grabbed Longy from the box and slid the blade into the Elvis bear’s lap, wedging it securely between the legs and the arms. Hopefully the blade wouldn’t slice up the bear too quickly. I wanted the punishment to last a little while.
NO! It smells like happiness and innocent dreams!
I reached around and felt through the bear’s thin, stretchy costume and flipped the switch. The bear began to wiggle in a cute sitting dance, making Longy dance with it.
Okay, that’s not so bad. Maybe I can pretend it’s a form of evil yoga—
Then the music began to play. “Blue mooooooon! You saw me standing alooooooone! Without a dream in my heaaaaaart…”
NO! BLUE MOONS MUST DIE!
Hee. Hee. Hee. Hoo. Hoo. Hoo.
Through the screaming and Rambo’s full-blown monotone laughter, I grabbed Stubby and fit the blade snugly into the arms of the Marilyn bear.
Wait. I can explain everything. I can’t concentrate when you—
I flipped the switch on the back of the bear and watched its hips gyrate, moving Stubby in a steady rhythm between its furry legs.
BAD TOUCH! BAD TOUCH!
Marilyn bear started to sing “Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend,” which made Stubby scream something unintelligible. It was getting loud inside my head.
I looked down at Rambo, wondering how I could prop up the blade for a better view of the show. I’d have to prop up the box, since I still wasn’t going to touch the knife. Right? I could, but did I want to?
I stood there for a full thirty seconds, surrounded by Longy’s and Stubby’s terrorized screams, and considered it. I considered Rambo’s jagged blade. The weird hook. The giant handle. If I touched Rambo, what would I see? Did I want to know? A shiver crawled up my spine as I realized Rambo was staring back at me, as if considering me, too.
No, I decided. I didn’t want to know.
I gave Rambo a tight smile and grabbed the discarded tissue paper from the teddy bears. I stuffed it under the box, tilting it toward the counter. It wasn’t perfect, but maybe it was good enough. I smiled down at the strange knife.
“Happy birthday, Rambo.”
I thought you had forgotten.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I knew the birthdays of all my knives. “How long would you like to watch the show?”
Thirty minutes would be awesome.
Longy’s scream felt like a needle between my eyes.
YOU SADIST!
I lifted an eyebrow at Rambo. “Only thirty minutes? The box says those bears can go for an hour. How about an hour?”
Rambo started machine-gunning another giggle into my head. Meanwhile, Stubby and Longy were still playing the blame game.
Stubby, this is all your fault. We should have listened to Rambo!
Oh really? You were gung-ho about my plan until the first sign of a teddy bear!
Their conversation devolved into name-calling.
I frowned and glanced down at Rambo. “Was there really something important to tell me?”
Rambo hesitated.
You’ll come back down in an hour?
“Yep.”
Then it can wait until you come back.
I smiled. The knives probably didn’t have anything that serious to say. They hardly went anywhere. Their entire world was in my basement. How urgent could it be?
“Have fun.”
As I walked to the lab door, Rambo called out to me.
Remember: one hour.
I didn’t expect to be gone for so long. The line at my favorite coffee shop, the Cacao Cafe, was wrapped around the building. I wasn’t going to leave without my favorite chicken panini and a nonfat, sugar-free vanilla latte. Cody was taking me out to dinner in a couple of hours, and I’d learned to eat in advance in case he did something to kill my appetite.
Note to self: When Cody starts asking random questions, ignore him. The answer is always the organ in his pants.
Traffic on the highway was slow and doubled the time it took to get downtown. I’d already been gone an hour when I finally made it to the high-rise where Marcus ran his legal and accounting businesses, and where he and Heraclitus lived. Marcus had owned the building since I was young, so I’d spent a lot of time there growing up. Now that I was older, Marcus rented out some of the apartments to conservators.
Luckily, none of the conservators were home. They must have all been working.
Unfortunately, Heraclitus wasn’t home either, and Marcus was upstairs working. I had to use Heraclitus’s spare key “hidden” above the door, resting on the doorframe, to get inside. I missed my grouchy surrogate uncle, but I left him a note to say that I stopped by and thanked him for taking care of Nadia.
It took a few trips to pack up Nadia and all of her things. Toys, bed, favorite blankie, favorite stuffed animal, treats—did I spoil my cat?—wet food, dry food, and bowls. And finally Nadia inside of her crate.
Miss Nadia wasn’t a huge fan of the car, so I took us straight home.
As I neared the house, I checked Death Radar for Norayr and Ronel. They hadn’t returned, but there were five new signals stationed around my property like a star. Four of the signals were people I didn’t know. The fifth one—
Wait a minute. Why was Cody on Death Radar?
I slammed on the brakes, throwing myself against the seat belt. Nadia’s cat carrier slid forward and hit the back of the passenger seat. She mewed in her frantic, high-pitched kitty voice, and I heard her claws digging into the hard plastic carrier for stability.
According to Death Radar, Cody was across the street, by the mailbox.
Surging with adrenaline, my physical and necromancer senses on overdrive, I jammed the button to open my front gate and hit the gas again, throwing me and Nadia’s carrier backward. The car flew around the corner into the cul-de-sac.
I pulled just inside the gate and threw the gearshift into park. I stumbled out of the car and toward the street, through my access spell. Something in the back of my mind said the spell was wrong somehow.
I didn’t remember crossing the street and wading into the bushes, but suddenly I was there, staring down at Cody.
I didn’t know Cody had been a first-channeler. I’m not able to discern these things on the living. My necromancer senses also told me he had died from an “energy transference.” I didn’t know what that meant.
I felt numb, as if I were floating. It was probably shock. None of this felt real.
His pants were jerked down to his thighs and his shirt stuffed up under his armpits. There
was no bare skin, just caked blood from a series of long cuts that flowed together like rivers of hate.
I’m not sure how I got back to my driveway. I must have blacked out, because I was on my hands and knees on the concrete, my car had stalled, and I tasted vomit in my mouth. Over the ringing in my ears, I heard Nadia meowing; she sounded frantic, as if she sensed the world’s sudden wrongness.
I stared blankly at the access spell. My brain slogged through the shock to figure out why the spell looked so wrong.
My name was listed twice inside the spell. The second entry had a weird, jagged symbol next to it. What did it mean? Were there two of me? Had the other me done this to Cody?
I crawled to the car and grabbed the burner phone that Walkie-Talkie had given to me. I could only think of one person to call. I didn’t care that we’d had a fight and weren’t speaking. Everyone’s phone was being tapped by the Immortal State, his included, but I had to call someone—and I wanted it to be him.
“Hello?”
“He’s dead.” The words croaked out, and my throat burned. My terrorized brain replayed images of Cody lying in the bushes, face up, eyes open and staring at nothing, his expression a mask of pain and horror.
“Kari?” I heard panic in Mikelis’s voice. “Where are you? Are you hurt?”
“He’s dead!” I screamed. Adrenaline was wearing off, allowing hysteria to snake its way through me. “I don’t know how he got there! He came back with us, and he was okay. But now he’s here, and he’s dead!” I wiped my face with my sleeve, smearing snot and tears and makeup across my cheek.
He sounded confused. “Where are you?”
I choked back a sob and stared at the bushes behind the mailbox. Terrible things always happen at my mailbox. The forest is too thick there. Someone should tear the lot down.
“He’s behind my mailbox.” I climbed to my feet, but a black haze swirled at the edges of my vision. The world pitched to the left. I stumbled with it, into the grass.
Mikelis was talking. He sounded upset.
I couldn’t understand what he was saying. My brain couldn’t focus. All I could think about was Cody and his face—the one framed by leaves and dirt and crusted blood. That face would forever be burned in my memory. Along with all of the others who had died because of me. There was so much blood.