Hex

by Rhiannon Lassiter

  “OK,” Zircarda agreed, allowing the minor point now that she had got her own way again. “This party’s going to be the most!”

  • • •

  The flitter pulled up on a tree-lined bridge in a quiet residential district. It was not as luxurious as the Belgravia Complex, but Kez thought it looked nice, attractive and peaceful. As they got out of the flitter he felt out of place in a way he hadn’t in Belgravia. Wraith looked forbidding enough in his black leathers, and Kez felt as if anyone could tell at a glance that he was just a streetrat. When Wraith locked up the flitter he didn’t move from its side.

  “What’s the matter?” Wraith asked.

  “I shouldn’t be here,” Kez said gruffly. “I don’t fit in.”

  “Snap out of it,” Wraith told him. Then, when Kez didn’t move, he rested a hand lightly on his shoulder. “Come on, kid,” he said quietly. “No one here knows anything about you.”

  “I’m not one of them,” Kez hissed. “I want to stay in the flitter.”

  “I’m not going to leave you here,” Wraith informed him and Kez clenched his fists.

  “I’m not going to steal it, Wraith.” He glared furiously. Then he deflated. “But I almost did, when you first picked me up. Raven wouldn’t let me. You were right about me, weren’t you? You can’t trust anyone who lives on the streets!” He turned away, not wanting Wraith to look at him.

  “Kez.” Wraith slung an arm on his shoulders. “Calm down.”

  “Why don’t you just get rid of me now?” Kez replied bitterly. “You’ll do it anyway, just as soon as you find your sister.”

  “No I won’t,” Wraith replied seriously. He turned Kez to face him. “You really don’t know anything about me, Kez,” he said. “And you definitely don’t know anything about Raven.” He shook his head. “She attached you on a whim, Kez, and she could just as easily dump you again, probably without thinking twice about it.” He frowned. “But you needn’t worry about what’ll happen when we leave. I’ll make sure you won’t have to go back to the streets.” He sighed. “I might not trust you, Kez, and I know you don’t like me very much. But I was a ganger for a long time, and the Kali always took care of their own.” He took Kez’s arm firmly, forcing him to walk off down the bridge with him. “Now, come on. I don’t want to waste any time.”

  Kez fell into step with him obediently, wondering if he had misjudged Wraith. It was a few minutes before he could trust himself to speak.

  “Do you still run with them, your gang?”

  “No.” Wraith shook his head. “We parted company about a year ago. I was tired of being on the wrong side of the law at the time.”

  “But Raven wasn’t?”

  “Raven’s existence puts her on the wrong side of the law to start off with,” Wraith said. “She’s never cared very much for conventional morality.” He didn’t look at Kez as he added: “We haven’t been close for a long time, but I’ve heard a lot about her from friends of mine. She’s not really normal, Kez. In more ways than one.”

  “Oh.” Kez was silent again. Not really knowing what to say, he decided to ask a question that had been bugging him since he first met them. “Are those your real names?” he asked. “Wraith and Raven.”

  “No.” Wraith smiled, for the first time since Kez had met him. “Raven probably wouldn’t be too pleased if I told you her real name. I think I’m the only one who remembers it. She’s expunged all records of her original identity from the net. But mine is, was, Rhys. The Kali called me Wraith because of my hair.”

  “And your skin, and your eyes,” Kez added, beginning to regain his confidence.

  “As you say.” Wraith nodded. “Raven chose her own name. She has quite a reputation back in Denver.”

  “Not a good one, huh?” Kez asked.

  “No,” Wraith said grimly. Then he came to a halt outside one of the towers. “This is it. Three floors up.”

  “I hope you find your sister,” Kez said, as they entered the building. “You must really miss her.”

  “I’m responsible for her,” Wraith replied, a little sternly. Then he added: “But yes, I miss her as well.”

  The apartment they wanted was numbered thirty-seven, and when Wraith touched the call signal beside the door it opened almost immediately. The woman who opened it was middle-aged and dressed conservatively. She regarded Wraith and Kez a little dubiously but seemed reassured by Wraith’s polite tone of voice.

  “Mrs. Hollis?” he asked.

  “Yes?” she replied.

  “I wonder if I could speak to you for a moment?” Wraith said. “It’s quite important.”

  “Well, all right.” The woman opened the door just wide enough for them to enter and Kez followed Wraith into a plainly decorated room. Two little girls with blonde hair tied up in ribbons, aged about six, were seated in front of the vidscreen, watching an animation.

  “Camilla, Tamara, go and play in your room,” the woman told them. “Don’t argue,” she added sharply, “you can watch the screen any time.” Kez watched as the little girls got up and left. He remembered Wraith saying that Rachel’s adoptive parents were known to have only two children, and he wondered if the Countess had made a mistake. If these were the kids, where was Rachel?

  Wraith was looking grim again, his eyes troubled. But he thanked the woman politely as she invited him to sit down.

  “Mrs. Hollis,” he said, once she had seated herself facing them. “Am I correct in believing that you and your husband adopted a child six years ago in Denver, under the names Vanessa and Carl Michaelson?”

  “Oh my god,” Mrs. Hollis whispered, the color draining from her face. “What do you want?”

  “I’m not here to cause any trouble,” Wraith said quietly. “But the child you adopted was my sister, Rachel. I just want to know that she’s all right.” Kez knew the answer before Mrs. Hollis spoke—nothing good could come out of fear like that.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, standing up. “Please leave. I can’t tell you anything.”

  “Mrs. Hollis.” Wraith stood up as well and faced her. He was several inches taller and she seemed to shrink before him. “I’m afraid I can’t leave until you give me some answers. Rachel obviously isn’t here. What happened to her? Is she even still alive?”

  “I don’t know,” the woman said hoarsely. “I swear to you, I don’t know. They came and took her. She’s not here anymore.”

  “Who, who took her?” Wraith demanded.

  “The CPS,” Mrs. Hollis told him, leaning back against her chair. “Over a year ago. They said a mutation had shown up in her medical examination.” Her eyes were clouded with unshed tears. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t have children of my own. Rachel was just like my own daughter. Please don’t tell anyone I told you all this. The CPS operatives said we shouldn’t mention it to anyone. If the Security Services find out I’ve spoken to you they could take the twins away. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost them.”

  “I said I wasn’t here to cause you any trouble,” Wraith replied. “Thank you for telling me the truth.” He turned to leave. “Come on, Kez, let’s go. There’s nothing more for us to do here.” Wraith keyed the door open and Kez followed him out. As they left, Mrs. Hollis watched them go, a pathetic crumpled figure sitting on the arm of the chair.

  Wraith didn’t stop walking until they had left the building far behind. Then he came to a halt at the beginning of the bridge where they had left the flitter. He looked over, gazing down through the hundreds of levels of the city, saying nothing. Kez didn’t know what to say. Everyone knew that the CPS coming for someone was a death sentence. Wraith had just heard evidence that his sister was dead, after searching for her for four years.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

  “I know.” Wraith stared down into the darkness of the depths far below. “Raven said Rachel wasn’t a Hex,” he said after a while. Kez was silent. A few minutes passed slowly before he wondered if Wraith wanted to be alone. He was about to ba
ck away when Wraith spoke:

  “Just give me a minute,” he said, glancing up. “I have to think.”

  “OK,” Kez replied and leaned against the balustrade next to Wraith. He assumed that the ganger was coming to terms with his failure. Flitters passed overhead and skimmers moved behind them on the bridge, but neither of them spoke again for some time.

  • • •

  Bob Tarrell could hear the music pounding as he walked up to the apartment. He recognized the wail of an electric guitar somewhere in the cacophony but the rest of the music was as dissonant as anything he’d ever heard. However, he didn’t allow that to faze him as he put his hand to the black metal plate by the door. When there was no answer he pressed it again. Eventually a voice came out of the wall speaker:

  “Who is it?”

  “I’m Bob Tarrell, of the Tarrell media corporation,” he told it, looking up at the security camera. Its light was turned on even though no image had appeared on the screen facing him. “I live in the Complex.” He waited a while and was about to speak again when the main door of the apartment slid smoothly open.

  A girl was standing there. She was dressed in black, the color complementing her stark black hair and her black eyes, dark against her pale face. She was frowning as she looked at him.

  “Have you come to complain about the music?” she asked, before he could speak.

  “Definitely not,” he assured her. Then he extended his hand. “You must be Elizabeth Black. My daughter knows your cousin.”

  “She does?” The girl raised her eyebrows, then abruptly smiled, taking his hand in a firm grasp. “I’m sorry, Mr. Tarrell. Please, come in.”

  Inside she took a moment to key the music down to a barely audible hum and offered him a drink. He accepted the offer of sake and the girl collected two cups from the Nutromac, handing one to him.

  “I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. Tarrell,” she told him. “Your corporation pretty much dominates the British media, and maintains a presence in the European Federation in general, I believe.”

  “You flatter me, Miss Black.” Bob smiled. “It will be a while yet before the Tarrell corporation makes a real name for itself in Europe.”

  “Elizabeth, please,” she told him, and he nodded.

  “Elizabeth, I hear that you’re a researcher for a US vidchannel. My daughter’s friends met your cousin this afternoon at Arkade.”

  “News travels quickly,” the girl replied, flashing him a quick grin.

  “It does in the Belgravia Complex.” Bob smiled back. “And, seeing as we’re in the same business, I was naturally interested. I’m afraid I haven’t heard of AdAstra before though.”

  “It’s still only a small channel,” she replied smoothly. “But we hope to move on to bigger things. One of the reasons Kez and I are here is to investigate the possibility of a British connection. Do you think your corporation would be interested?”

  “Perhaps,” Bob replied cautiously. “I’d certainly be interested in discussing it with you. But I’m not quite sure how well your style would succeed in Britain.”

  “Ah, yes.” The girl stretched like a cat and studied him with dark, unreadable eyes. “How much do you know about my channel, Mr. Tarrell?”

  “Only that it’s centered on alternative rock of the late twentieth century. My daughter couldn’t tell me much more. But even that seems a pretty radical approach.”

  “In the present climate, the more radical a channel is, the better,” she stated seriously. “And AdAstra’s following, although small, is very devoted.” She gestured at the stacks of lasdisks in the lounge. “This kind of music has a cult status. The mood of the late twentieth century was very dark and its music reflects that. A lot of people find it very addictive.”

  “You are obviously one of them,” he said and Elizabeth inclined her head slightly in assent. “I think I’d like to know more about your channel,” he told her. “And particularly about this music.”

  • • •

  Bob Tarrell had intended to stay for only about fifteen minutes. He ended up staying for over an hour. During that time, Elizabeth had played him several tracks from her vast selection and given him a comprehensive induction into twentieth-century music. Of everything she told him it was the expression “cult” that had interested him the most. Alternative music with a cult status would be a new departure for him, but it was the kind of thing that might generate the interest he needed in his failing channel. By the time he finally left Elizabeth’s apartment he had already decided how he would alter its format, with the help of AdAstra’s young researcher. And he had invited both Elizabeth and her cousin to his get-together that weekend. He was almost certain that, by then, she would be his star guest.

  • • •

  Kez realized that something must have occurred to calm Raven down by the time he and Wraith got back to the apartment. The music was no longer painfully audible, and was playing at an acceptable level as they entered the door. Raven had been watching the vidscreen but she looked up as they came in. She looked as if she was gearing herself up to be angry again, but her expression changed as she saw Wraith’s face.

  “What happened?” she asked in surprise.

  “The CPS took Rachel over a year ago,” Wraith told her levelly. “It seems my search is over.”

  There was a silence in the room, broken only by the pulsating beat of the music, still playing in the background. With a quick flick of her wrist Raven turned it off.

  “I want to know everything you’ve got on this adoptive family,” she told Wraith.

  “Why?” Kez asked. “It won’t do any good now.” Raven flickered a glance at him.

  “Rachel never showed any signs of being a Hex when I knew her,” she said. “I want to know what made the CPS find her out.” She took the flat black disk Wraith was handing her and turned to the computer terminal. “And if she’s dead, as you obviously think, I want to know exactly when and how she died.”

  “How could you find out?” Wraith asked coldly, sitting down on the dark red couch. “And why do you need to? Everyone knows Hexes are exterminated when they’re discovered.”

  “I’m suspicious of things that everyone knows,” Raven said shortly. “And, as to how I intend to find out, I’m going to hack into the CPS’s own records.” She smiled ferociously. “Believe me, Wraith. I’ll find out the truth of what happened. Nothing can stop me now.”

  4

  FATAL ENTRANCE

  Raven sank into the computer like a swimmer into the sea, immersing herself in the electronic labyrinth. It was a maze to which only she had the key and she moved through it like a goddess, contemptuous of the pathetic attempts of human users to fathom its fascinating complexities. It was easy for her to be seduced by the glowing trails of information pathways, leading away from her in all directions, but she concentrated on the focus of her search—the name Rachel Hollis.

  Raven did not move straight to the CPS’s databases. Despite her confidence, she as yet had no idea how she would find those records. So her first action was to stream down the net toward the computer system of the British government. This was one of the most impressively shielded systems in the country, but no computer could hope to be secure from Raven. However, it put up an amusing resistance. As she entered the system an automatic watchdog program intercepted her.

  > request authorization please? < it demanded.

  > correct authorization submitted—doubleplus priority user < Raven informed it, snowing it with information. She had penetrated this system many times before and the challenge was decreasing exponentially with each attempt.

  > authorization validated. pass user < the watchdog replied and with that the system opened itself to her. Disgustingly easy, Raven reflected as she streaked through the access node; she could have designed a better security system in her sleep.

  Deep inside the government system now, she paused a little and allowed fragments of her consciousness to snake out in all directions, searchi
ng according to the parameters she had already set. She relaxed, sinking into a semi-aware state, feeling her sphere of influence extending all around her. Suddenly there was a tweak at the end of one of her tendrils of thought. All the others raced to meet it. It was another access node, leading into a secondary system. Raven could not have explained how, but she knew that what she sought lay beyond that gate. Another watchdog approached. Raven didn’t wait for it to question her. Instead she overwhelmed it with a stream of authorizations.

  > open sesame < The gate swung open at her command.

  The new system felt darker, there were more shielded databases, security hung over everything like a fog. But none of this impeded Raven. It took her microseconds to identify the system as that belonging to the Security Services. One more microsecond and it was completely under her command. She hadn’t entered this system before and therefore took slightly longer to explore it. She was reassured to find no record of her existence in the database; Wraith was equally invisible to the Seccies. A flicker to the edge of her search parameters informed her that Kez had two convictions for theft. A thought erased the data; Kez became invisible to the system. Then she found it. The contents of a datafile filled her mind. A Security Services team, accompanied by three CPS operatives, took into custody a ten-year-old Hex named Rachel Hollis on the fifteenth of March 2366.

  Raven imprinted the contents of the file on her eidetic memory, but did not erase the original from the system. Among the threads of data that accompanied the file was a string of numbers and characters designed to execute a lead away from the government system to an alternative address. Raven dived through the net, information whirling above and beneath her. The location of the system she was heading for was more impressively shielded than anything she’d seen before and her search took her on a roller-coaster ride through the net. Any other hacker would have been shaken off long ago but Raven found it as exhilarating as the flitter ride she had forced Kez to take. She felt the same way about speed as she did about loud music—the more of it the better. Finally she crashed through four secured nodes in a row before coming to rest at the main entrance to the central system of the CPS.