by August Li
The spells were potent. Colored writing, glowing in the gloom and representing dozens of human languages, crawled across the screens, encircling me with binding enchantments that were not only varied but seemed to change of their own accord, rearranging their elements and the combinations of languages, phrasing, and symbolism almost as soon as I started to understand the magic’s working. If I had not been its victim, I might have admired a charm so intricate. Yet without fully understanding how it was done, I somehow knew the components and the possible combinations would extrapolate, project themselves into new magics without the caster’s intent. They had a life of their own, a dreaming intelligence behind the flashing neon characters. I also knew that the possible combinations were nigh on infinite—certainly enough to keep me here for many, many years.
Worst of all, I could see freedom just beyond my grasp in the form of a thick cord plugged into the wall at the base of the steps we’d descended to reach this cursed place. I knew that dislodging it would steal the energy from the screens, and the writing scrawling across them would fade as instantly as a dream upon waking. And I could’ve reached that cord in a dozen strides, if not for the electric spells containing me.
Hours passed as I suffered that cruelest of all tortures to my kind—boredom. I crossed my arms on the table and let my head fall against them, visions of the torment I would inflict playing like a pantomime behind my eyes. Beyond the chilly walls made of pitted stone blocks, I could feel the sky bid farewell to the sun, the last of the rosy golden light receding to make way for the crystalline night. How I wanted to be beneath the jewellike dome as the moon rose and the stars began to sparkle one by one.
What would become of me if I were forced to remain here? I thought it quite possible I would lose my mind.
I don’t how much time passed before a sound on the stairs caught my attention, but night held full dominion, making the electronic magic even starker against the blackness, as if the colored symbols had been carved into the darkness, their glow allowed to pulse and bleed through. Beyond the shifting washes of pigment, something glimmered, something small and low to the ground—twin pinpoints of light focused on me with unwavering intent.
And behind them, a familiar awareness.
I leapt to my feet, sending the leprotic metal chair clattering. I approached the ring of light corralling me, the arcane energy digging into me with white-hot tines as soon as I got within a few steps of the screens. Still, I was able to crouch down and look through a cleft in the squares.
When I reached out my hand, Charlene trotted easily over the barrier, unaffected by magic that had not been meant to contain her, and hopped up on my folded knee.
As she rubbed her head beneath my chin, Charlene said, You have brought me on quite a hunt. For a while, you disappeared from the eyes of the cats, and we could not even find your scent. It took me much cleverness to track you to this place. It is a bad place.
It is, I agreed. I would very much like to leave it, and now that you are here, you can help me to escape.
What must I do?
Remove that cord from the wall and the magic containing me will lose the source of its power. I pointed.
I stood to watch as Charlene scampered over and closed her teeth around the thick gray cord. At first I feared she would not have the strength to yank it free, but I shouldn’t have underestimated her. Finally, with a growl, she dislodged the thing, and the light and color on the screens disappeared faster than I could blink. I knelt again, and when I stretched out my arm, Charlene ran along it to seat herself upon my shoulder. Together, we ascended the stone steps covered in moldy blue carpet and stepped out into a night scented with burning chemicals and the possibility of icy rain. I remembered the painted words and pictures that decorated the metal door Jet had led me through as well as the building’s block exterior. Yet I was not familiar with this part of the city, and my time sequestered in that dank cellar had dulled my recollection of the routes we had taken to reach it. I decided quickly it would be easiest to enlist the help of a mortal.
As I walked the quiet thoroughfares, I noticed many mortals living in the space between the gaudily decorated buildings. They were dirty, and stacks of refuse surrounded the small pressed-paper dwellings where most of them took shelter. Quite a few of them noticed our passing—they possessed the ability to see worlds beyond their own—yet I did not think they would be of use to us. We needed a human in possession of a carriage.
A few blocks away, two women in coarse black gowns and head coverings were handing out boxed meals from the back of a modest conveyance. They held one out to me when I approached. Clearly they did not have the power to see through the cowls over their eyes, the misconceptions they labored beneath as effective as a heavy blindfold.
I waved away the brown box that stank of overcooked broccoli and fish. “I will require transport.” I jutted my chin toward their carriage. “We must leave at once, and leave that foul-smelling food behind. I don’t wish to breathe its stench whilst I travel.”
Lacking the will to resist—the inherent servility part of the reason I selected them—they did as I instructed, and Charlene and I made ourselves as comfortable as possible in the rear compartment of the vehicle. A ghastly sculpture of a strung-up corpse swayed to and fro as the women navigated the pitted streets. Seeing the gaunt body, twisted with agony, returned my thoughts to Jet Zama, and I was thus able to allow my imagination to entertain me until we reached a section in the north of Philadelphia that seemed familiar. I remembered the names of some of the streets near Dante’s home—Diamond and Emerald—but it took much circling, backtracking, and searching before our erstwhile chauffeurs stopped their carriage in front of his building. I waved the women off and went inside, where I found only Dante’s mother snoring in a stinking heap. I was sorely tempted to put her out of her misery, but escaping the suffocating odor of the place was far more pressing.
I must find Jet Zama, I said to Charlene, and after that, hopefully my incubus. I don’t imagine they would have returned to Corazón’s house, but we should make our way there regardless. I should like to see that the woman is getting by without me to keep her company. She is likely forlorn, and I should reassure her that we will be returning soon.
I like her, Charlene agreed. And I am hungry.
Excellent. It is only a short distance away.
When we reached the walkway in front of Corazón’s home, I was interested to see we were not alone. Another vehicle sat next to the curb, and a man in a dark coat made his way toward the porch, picking his way slowly over the ice and walking with a slight limp. I easily traversed the surface of the snow and intercepted him just as he raised his fist to knock. I touched his shoulder, and he turned to me, mouth slightly agape. He was an unassuming man, handsome in an elegant, understated way, and with a current of something sharp and bright pulsing behind his deep brown eyes, like sunlight through colored glass.
“I… know you.” He removed his spectacles and rubbed them on the sleeve of his dark wool coat. “I’m sure I’ve seen you before. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
“I am here to visit a dear friend,” I told him. “Why are you here?”
He squinted as if he wanted to resist telling me, but of course that was impossible. “This is my mother’s home. She’s elderly and suffers from dementia. I’m checking on her, making sure….”
“Go on.” I fluttered my hand around.
“M-making sure none of my enemies have come here to harm her.”
I tapped my finger against my chin, watching as pieces to a puzzle slotted into place and some sort of a picture began to form. Before I knew what it was trying to depict, more pieces would need fitted into place, but at least a few things were clear—in the disjointed way of the mosaic garden. “Corazón is your mother. So you must be… you must be Raphael, not Ramon. The scholar, not the soldier.”
“That’s… right.” His eyes cut into me like diamonds. “And you… you know Dante. Y
ou were with him in the forest. You killed the big Nazi…. Killed him with your plants.”
I couldn’t resist a smile, a clap, and a small hop at the shiver he attempted to quell. “Oh, I am glad you got to see that. Too fine a bit of magic to go unappreciated.”
“Magic….” He pinched the bridge of his nose with the hand that wasn’t holding his glasses. “I read about it. The mages and their guilds. You’re one of them? A mage?”
“Ugh. Of course not!” I leaned toward Charlene as she chewed on a strand of my hair, delighted by the way her purr grew louder when she opened her mouth for a nip.
“Then what—”
I waved my hand again. “This is not important. And you need not worry about Corazón’s safety. I have enchanted this place so no one wishing her harm can enter here. If they try, they will spend the rest of their lives wandering through the worst nightmare they’ve ever had, trapped inside their mind until they die of starvation.” I exhaled and considered the glittery, frozen cloud that issued from my lips. “Or exposure, I suppose. What I want to know is where I can find Jet Zama.”
“I don’t know that person,” Raphael said.
“They would be a friend of Dante,” I explained. “Quite striking. Japanese, with blue hair.”
He nodded. “I think I have seen them.”
“Tell me where to find them.”
“I’m not sure, but Dante was at the Hotel Palomar… I don’t know if he still is. I have to speak with Moirin. She’s tracking him. But before I can do that, I need to go home and pick up another burner phone.”
“Very well. I shall come with you. We will need to secure a meal for my friend Charlene when we reach your domicile.”
“I… find I cannot say no. But you should know that it might not be safe where I’m going. I have enemies.”
I raised my leg and pointed my toe, stretching my ankle and calf. “Perhaps we can help each other out. I might even be mildly entertaining. Though not for your enemies, or mine, I expect.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
SO WHEN I say I’ve had very few bedmates as enthusiastic and creative as Jet, it carries a little more weight than when most say it. And I mean every word. What a fuck. I felt melted—fucking bone-liquefied—as I lay on the sodden sheets drinking champagne straight from the bottle. Every time I moved, something different hurt, and bloody hell, I’d barely noticed not being able to feed while we were shagging. Now, with the TV blaring K-pop videos and pop rocks still exploding behind my eyes, I realized I’d done this because I wanted to, for fun, not sustenance. I didn’t think that’d ever happened to me before—a choice based on something other than survival—and it was an icy splash on my warm and well-chafed testicles.
I still needed a hefty dose of that mortal glowy stuff, but I didn’t feel like I was going to shake apart without it.
Maybe if Blossom had really gone, the effects of what he had done would start to wear off. Hell, maybe they already had. I was certainly feeling sated. What I needed now was some Mexican takeout to go with this wine, a long shower, and a day of sleep in a bed cleaner than this one.
But my phone bouncing across the nightstand with an incoming text told me I wasn’t going to get it.
It was Brandt. How about breakfast tomorrow?
Thought the party was tomorrow night, I responded. Need time to get ready.
Bring a tux. I’ll get you a room here at Gardegris Towers. You can get ready there. And we can have some fun beforehand ;)
Shit. No way would Dante be up for any fun with Brandt. I had to think of a way out of this.
Horny cunt didn’t give me a chance. Claude? Not changing your mind? If so, I will call the agency for a replacement.
Course not. Looking forward to it. I’ll meet you tomorrow a.m.? What the fuck else could I say?
;) Great. Sending directions to the house. Wait until you see this place. You need transportation?
No, I’ll drive myself. See you soon ;) Can’t wait to get back on that big dick of yours!
Jet came back into the room, soaking wet and wearing nothing but a grin. Their smile fell away when they saw me. “What?”
I raked my sweaty hair back. “Bloke what invited me to the party’s insisting I be there for breakfast. Me and Dante. Couldn’t figure a way out of it without him calling in for another boy and ruining the whole thing, so I agreed. Dante’s going to shit his knickers. He’ll kill me if I put him in that situation.”
Jet pursed their lips. “Dunno. I think he’d suck a dick if it meant saving his sister.”
That thought… Dante on his knees… it was wrong. “Well, I don’t want him to, all right? Would you put Emrys in that situation?”
Jet held up their hands in surrender. “All right, all right. So tell the guy Dante is running late and he’ll be along later. He might be disappointed at first, but as soon as you get down to it, he’ll be fine. I’ll be there, and I can make sure he can’t call the agency, or anyone else.”
I nodded, feeling better. “Yeah, it’s not exactly hopeless. Don’t suppose you can help me get hold of a couple of tuxes?”
They turned and bent at the waist to rummage through their discarded clothes, giving me a good view of the Nikola Tesla tattoo in its ornate frame that covered the left side of their upper back, Electric Jesus written in swirly script beneath. They came up with one of their many cell phones. “If you’re willing to pay, you get hold of anything you want. And the National Policy Institute’s footing the bill, so no need to be frugal. I’d go D&G, personally.” The tossed me the phone, where some suits were displayed on the screen. “Pick something out and I’ll go get it. I have an errand I need to run before we head up to the Poconos anyway.”
THE SUN was just coming up as we left Philadelphia, heading north on I-476. Emrys drove and Jet rode shotgun, while me and Dante sat in the back seat. No one was talking much, and I’m sure we all had our own reasons for that. Jet had expressed being nervous around so many powerful mages, and though I sensed there was more to it than that, I didn’t press. Truth be told, I just wanted to get this over with. I wasn’t overly fond of posh mages either, but mostly I wanted Dante to get out from under the stress he’d been subjected to constantly for almost a week. I wanted him to hug his sister… smile.
Fuck me, I just wanted him to be all right.
And to that end, I’d do my part. It hadn’t escaped me that with Blossom gone, nothing compelled me to help. Nothing to stop me walking away. Well, not nothing. Something was keeping me here, something that wasn’t hunger or even the desire for a shag—a barbed hook lodged in my sternum that ached when I pulled against it. It was something probably best looked at later, though I couldn’t help but wonder what I would do, whose company I would keep, if my baser needs no longer drove me.
It took a little under three hours to reach the Rodeway Inn about five miles from Gardegris. There, we dropped Emrys and Dante off, and me and Jet continued on to the castle—and I don’t use that term lightly.
It was a French-style chateau made from local fieldstone and trimmed in ivory scrollwork and Wedgwood blue shutters. The whole thing was the size of a city block—maybe bigger. Four round towers stood at the corners—each one of them as wide around as a decent-sized house—topped with steep, pointed slate roofs, all of them adorned with little bay windows. A huge balcony edged with a stone railing stretched the length of the front, where it overlooked an enormous tiered fountain with a life-sized sphinx crouched on top. Even sitting in the car in front of the entrance, I could see outbuildings and gazebos dotting the massive European-style gardens on either side.
I half expected to hear a strain of harpsichord music on the breeze and maybe tumble across some powdered-white birds in tall wigs. Truth be told, it didn’t feel that long ago that I’d walked among—and bedded—people dusted with ceruse and draped in brocade. Had some good times back then and wouldn’t have wept to be back in a time with no bleeding faeries and only guns that barely worked at ten paces. Instead, I
spotted some blokes in black trousers and white shirts milling about under the portico. Valets. I was surprised when Jet pulled up and parked. I’d expected to be dropped off, but it seemed Jet planned to stay. They took a large military-style black bag from the back seat and shouldered it as if the contents were especially valuable and fragile. Electronics, probably. I didn’t get a chance to ask before we were directed inside and told to check in with the concierge.
I gave the cute girl behind the desk a bullshit story and dropped Brandt’s name. After a quick phone call—presumably to his room—she gave me the location on the third floor and told us to go on ahead.
Again, Jet came with me, and as we climbed the curved stair that would take us to the balcony overlooking the massive entryway with its half a dozen fireplaces, white marble floors, stags’ heads dotting the walls, and a crystal chandelier the size of a swimming pool, I whispered over my shoulder, “Not planning to stand in for Dante, are you?”
Jet snorted delicately. “No. I just needed a way in. I have some work to do.”
I dragged my palm along the cool carved stone railing as we made our way toward a library with powder-blue velvet furniture and pale wooden shelves reaching the ceiling. “Yeah? What sort of work?”
Jet shrugged. “I just need to set some things up for later. You know, with the phones and computers. Even if we don’t end up needing it tonight, I’m sure I can collect credit card numbers, contact info, shit like that. And spy. I’m going to sneak around a bit, see if I can hide some surveillance equipment. Gotta keep up with these assholes if we’re going to have a chance of stopping them. I need to know what they’re planning.”
I nodded. As much as all that made sense, I didn’t like it—and I didn’t know why. “Don’t they have tech-mages of their own to detect that shite?”