by Jamie Wyman
“Wow,” she said flatly. “That thing is a dinosaur.”
“Figure it’s the best place to start.”
Karma cleared her throat and looked down at her hands. She had pulled out her own phone and started thumbing the screen. Her fingers shook. “What…what did you say the girl’s name was again?”
“Muriel.”
Karma closed her eyes. Her jaw worked, and her thumb hovered over the touch screen of her cell. She looked like she was trying to psych herself up for something. With an exaggerated motion, her thumb pressed the screen.
And Muriel’s ancient phone rang in my hand.
Well, fuck.
And that’s when things got awkward.
Chapter Five
“Plug in Baby”
“Oh shit,” I croaked. “You…you knew her?”
Karma pressed her lips together and bowed her head. “Knew,” she murmured, as if testing the word. Judging by the way her curls shook and her shoulders heaved, that test did not go well.
I don’t know about anyone else, but no one ever gave me a script for breaking someone’s heart. I’m pretty sure, however, that conventional wisdom warns against just telling someone, Hey, your friend died. I’d inadvertently done exactly that. More, though, I’d just described said friend’s grisly demise in vivid detail in hopes of purging it all from my own mind. Instead, I’d poured it all into Karma’s head.
Great, Sharp, I reprimanded myself. First you interrupt her while she’s getting laid, then you insult her. Now you punch her in the feelings. What are you going to do for an encore?
My mind went blank, and my dry throat constricted. I sat there holding my head in my hands, massaging my temples.
“Are you guys okay?”
I jerked up at Flynn’s voice. He stood in his doorway, body rigid as he looked back and forth between the two of us. I glanced to Karma. Tears streamed down her heart-shaped face, and here I must have resembled pond scum—that’s how I felt. Yeah…I could only imagine what Flynn thought had transpired.
Karma sniffed and brushed away a few of her tears. Flynn was at her side in an instant. “Are you all right?”
She shook her head. As she clenched her jaw, her fists worked at her sides, clenching to white knuckles. “No. No, I’m not.”
“What happened?” Flynn’s eyes found mine, perhaps laced with accusation.
His expression slugged me in the gut. What did he think me capable of? What did he think I’d done to bring Karma to tears? Two days ago I would’ve sworn that Flynn would always have my back. Now, though, he seemed ready, willing, and able to take my head off if it would dry Karma’s eyes.
Is this how it’s going to be now? Them on one side of the room, me on the other? Was I losing my friend, right here, right now?
Because Karma’s fierce sienna eyes and tight jaw demanded it, I told Flynn about Muriel and withheld nothing. I tried to keep it clinical, tried to stay detached, but thinking of that girl bolted to the wheel lift obscured my voice with tears and terror. When Flynn would have wrapped Karma in his arms, she lifted a hand to keep him away. Grief streamed down her cheeks, but she didn’t weep or sob. She stood there and took the lashes as my story cut her to the bone. Again.
Though she refused his physical comfort, Flynn’s voice was a soothing caress. “How did you know her?”
“We’re friends. Have been for a few years.” She let out a weak, guilt-laden laugh. “I skipped out on our weekly coffee date to come out here last night.”
Flynn raked through his spiky hair. “You couldn’t have known.”
“I know…but if I’d been with her…?” She let the question trail off, but I could fill in any number of endings. If Karma had been there, could she have saved Muriel? Would Karma have suffered a similar fate?
“Don’t go there, K. You couldn’t have known,” he repeated firmly.
“I might’ve been able to help!”
The air vibrated with her voice, her anger. Those six words were a spell that exploded impotently, charging the room with remorse. She had drawn upon her power. Her eyes glowed with that same electric violet light I’d seen when she worked her magic to heal me. Black barbs of energy twisted around her finger tips, through the pink puff of her hair.
She clamped her eyes shut and clenched her fists. I could see the power seething within her as she warred with herself. The battle played out over her face as she fought for control over those volcanic emotions. Finally, with trembling hands, Karma wiped her cheeks clean. In three or four powerful strides of those heavy boots, she was at my side. She stared down at me where I sat, radiating more power than she had when wielding real magic. This was personal strength and she had it in spades.
“Loki told you no cops, right?”
I nodded.
“All right. I’m not a cop. So let’s get to work.”
I had to admire her. The woman must have been made of steel. That’s why I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the chance that she might punch me for what I was about to suggest.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Slowly, dangerously, and with all the venom of a coiling serpent, one lovely eyebrow rose to crease her forehead. For many silent seconds she stared at me, her face a stone mask, unyielding and cold. When she spoke, her voice was a tight simmer. “I know you did not just say that.”
“Look, I get it. You want to help, but this isn’t a game of Clue or an episode of Sherlock. Playing in this pool will get you noticed by all kinds of big fish. Some of them—not unlike my boss—are sharks you don’t want to tangle with.”
“Oh, spare me the posturing.”
“It’s not posturing. I’ve been involved with gods for the past ten years, and it’s not fun. It sucks ass, frankly. And do you really think it’s coincidence that Loki—fucking Loki!—has given me a job that involves Muriel—someone I’m now one degree removed from? And that degree happens to be you. Did you think for a moment that Loki might not give a shit about your friend and is just using me to get you into a more actionable position?”
She sobered momentarily at that thought. I didn’t know if it was true, but with Loki all things are possible. I pressed my advantage, however weak it was.
“Once the gods take notice of you, they start playing with you. Do you know how a god plays with his food?”
“No, Cat, I don’t. But I do know that someone spiked my friend to a tow truck!”
That shut me up.
“Karma,” Flynn began.
She cut him off with a slice at the air with her hand, and he stepped away.
“Now it’s your turn to listen,” Karma said. “I don’t care if Loki notices me. I don’t give a shit what dangers you think I’ll be getting myself into or what sort of hell I might make for myself later on. I’m going to find out who killed my friend, and I’m going to have a part in ending the son of a bitch. I can either do that with you, and with Loki’s backing, or you will just have to stay out of my way. Which will it be, Cat?”
The decision wasn’t a difficult one. Were I in the same position—if someone had done the same horrible things to Flynn—wouldn’t I have been just as adamant that I be the one to swing the axe on the guilty party? I spared my friend a glance. He clenched his jaw and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
But it wasn’t his decision, was it?
And it wasn’t really mine, either.
I stood up and handed her Muriel’s phone. “Let’s get to work.”
…
At my suggestion, we all retreated to my room. I admit it was somewhat selfish. But they had each other, and I needed to at least work in a comfortable space. Thus, my room.
Flynn let Karma get ahead of us by a few strides and then took me by the arm. “You can’t let her do this,” he whispered pleadingly
“I can’t stop her, either. Better with us than without, right?”
“Us?” He stopped and backed away from me as though I’d suggested we perfo
rm vivisections on a litter of kittens.
“What, you trying to tell me you’re not about to White Knight the hell out of this and help Karma?”
“This isn’t like changing a tire or helping a buddy move on a Saturday afternoon, Cat. We’re talking about getting involved with Loki. And murderers! If what you described is any indication, there are some heavy hitters playing here.”
“All the more reason I’m surprised you won’t throw in with me and Karma. Three parts of the triangle, man. Reinforce the other two.”
He hung his head, waging war with his self-preservation instincts and my skewed logic. “I don’t want to get in with gods, Cat.”
I couldn’t fault that. I nodded and patted his shoulder. “Fine. No worries, okay? I’ll see you in a couple of days or so.”
I had taken about three steps when he caught me again and hissed, “Fine! I’ll do it. Only because I don’t want anything to happen to her.”
Yeesh! That stung. My side pulsed with sympathy for my now bruised ego.
“Or you,” he added, clearly an afterthought.
A fresh wave of nauseating anger crawled up my chest. Jealousy nestled somewhere in the cold, dank pit that had replaced my stomach. Things were different now that Flynn had Karma. So many subtle changes in so short a time. I’d lost my Flynn—not that he’d ever been mine.
Clamping a lid on my envy, I turned away from Flynn and marched to my room. I padded around, gathering a few things that I would need. No, I didn’t need black candles, a silver platter, the blood of a virgin, or anything so arcane as that. I just grabbed my spare laptop out of the closet.
Flynn snorted playfully when he saw I’d also gotten a pen and notebook. “Pen and paper, Cat? Really?”
“Yes, really,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“You don’t need that, you know. You can just save it all to memory like I do.”
“Well, Master of the Universe, some of us like to actually keep our thoughts tangible. I may scribble like a six-year-old, but it helps me stay organized.”
He stuffed his hands into his deep pockets. When he spoke, his voice was a condescending pat on the head. “I just think it’s cute is all.”
Karma swatted at him with the back of her hand. “Shh, let her work the way she works.”
I nodded my thanks and took a seat, lotus style, on the floor. “Phone?” I asked Karma.
She tossed it to me. “How can I help?”
Karma’s eyes looked desperate, almost fragile. But there was more to it. She needed to work, to focus on something other than the mental image of her friend having been crucified.
“Not sure yet. But,” I added quickly, “I’ll let you know the second I think of something.”
Karma clearly didn’t like that much, but she bit her lip and turned away while I got down to business.
Muriel’s cell was a simple flip phone. This older model didn’t come with a built-in camera, Bluetooth capability, or any other bells and whistles. Using those “innate skills” that made my soul an asset to Loki, I created a link between the cell and my laptop. The monitor on my machine flared to life and displayed the contents of Muriel’s phone. As long as I had physical contact with both, the link would remain.
“We’ve got to get you up to the point where you can manifest an interface,” Flynn chided.
“Shut up,” I said through my teeth. I hadn’t been a working technomancer long, but I was doing okay so far. I could turn on phones, computers, lights with a simple thought. I could connect to broken motherboards and talk to video poker machines. Sure, I didn’t have Flynn’s well of power or his wealth of experience, but for someone who’d just been thrown in the pool I thought I was learning to swim just fine, thank you very much.
“I just want to get an idea of what I’m working with,” I said to the room. “Not sure how long this will take. I can come get you when I know more, if you’d like.”
“I’ll stay,” Karma said quietly. She sat on the bed and opened an interface of her own, a rectangular screen made of air and her thoughts. I saw what looked to be a social media feed, but she quickly scrolled away from that. Purple code filled her interface, and I looked away.
Flynn stretched. “I’ll hang out, too.”
“Have you slept?” I asked without sparing him a glance.
“Sleep is for mere mortals.”
I snorted and focused on my work.
At the speed of a synapse, multiple windows popped up on the monitor to display the contacts list, call log, and messages. The texts—all variations on the theme Where are you? Call me—came from someone listed only as N. I gathered them together in my mind and a new window appeared on the screen, a file reserved for those messages.
As I scanned through her phone book, I discovered she had fewer than ten contacts in her list. Whatever her reasons, Muriel had listed people not with their names but with single initials. No Mom or Dad, no number for her favorite Chinese takeout place or pizza joint. One letter per person. Other than this smattering of contacts, Muriel had done nothing to personalize her phone. The wallpaper and ringtones were all factory settings.
A picture of this woman began to form in my mind: a plain girl who lived in a tight, closed sphere and valued her privacy above all else. I wondered if she was reclusive out of nature or necessity. After all, Loki had said she was unique and her body mustn’t be found; it stood to reason that she needed to stay off the radar.
But why? What had she done? What black cat crossed her path and led her to the back of that truck?
As I sifted through the handful of outgoing messages, I got a sense of who Muriel was. A glimpse of her humor and personality showed in her texts to the ubiquitous N. Their conversations consisted of gentle teasing and setting up lunch or dinner meetings. Karma’s texts to Muriel were outnumbered only by N’s and someone else who went by the initial P. The cell told the story that these three people comprised Muriel’s inner circle.
For most of an hour I cataloged the text messages and calls, meticulously matching phone numbers to initials on the slim chance that she knew two Ns or Ps. I made a mental note to ask Karma about these people when I was finished with the voice mails.
“All right,” I said, voice dry. “I’m going to put her voice mail on speakerphone and have a listen.”
“There’s probably one from me on there,” Karma said as she propped herself up on her elbows.
Hacking through Muriel’s password like a machete through red tape, I tapped into the messages. A cool, digitized voice greeted me, then I heard the dead girl speak. “Muriel Harper,” she enunciated.
“You have six new messages,” the computer informed me.
The system played the messages back in reverse order—the most recent message first. The first four messages—spaced out over almost seven hours—plotted a strange timeline that began with fear and tension. As time shifted backward with each message, the ubiquitous N’s voice went from thin and weary to a confident, cool baritone.
6:45 p.m. – “Hey, Muri, you’re late. Everything okay? You’re probably on your way. I’ll see you at the shop.”
8:30 p.m. – “Muri, it’s me. You didn’t show up and you’re not at home. I’m getting worried. Please call or text to let me know you’re okay.”
10:04 p.m. – “Where are you?”
1:13 a.m. – “Call me.”
“Who is that?” I asked Karma.
“Nate.”
“Husband?”
“Muri’s brother… Shit!” she yelled, clamping a hand over her mouth. Eyes wide as saucers, she fixed me with a horror-stricken look. “No one has told him, have they?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so, no.”
“Shit!” she repeated. “Oh hell, I have to tell him. And Polly.”
There’s the P, I thought to myself. “Polly?”
“A friend of ours. We’re kinda all Muriel had in the world.”
Karma pulled her phone out of one of her myriad pockets
. Her thumbs flew over a keypad while her lip quivered and her breath shook.
Flynn closed an arm around her shoulders. “You’re texting her?”
“If I talked to her on the phone, I’d just explode and tell her the whole thing. This isn’t something I want to tell her on the phone. I’m asking her to meet me at Nate’s place.”
When she’d finished her texting, I asked, “Do you want company?”
“I’d appreciate that. Especially since you were there.”
“I wasn’t there when she died,” I specified.
“But you saw her body. That’s going to tear him apart. Nate took care of her.”
“They lived together?”
“Muri’s got—” She stopped herself and shut her eyes against tears. When she spoke again her voice was full of taut, steel-enforced sadness. “Muri wasn’t exactly all together. She was a bit of a hermit. Didn’t get out much or talk to many people.”
“Job?” Flynn prompted.
“No. She couldn’t leave the house on her own for more than a few minutes.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Agoraphobe?”
Karma shrugged. “It’s just Muri.”
Loki’s warnings about not involving the local cops chimed in my mind. Again, I wondered what Muriel had done. I didn’t know how to sugarcoat the question so I just asked. “What was she?”
Karma met my eyes, her stare dark and hot. “Troubled.”
I had hoped Karma would illuminate me as to Muriel’s nature, but her glib answer left me wanting. Was she protecting Muriel? Or me? Or did Karma assume her friend was human?
Without elaborating further, Karma stood up and wiped her palms on her pants. “I should get to Nate. The sooner he knows… Well, I would say ‘the better,’ but that doesn’t make sense in this case.”
I nodded. “All right. Do you mind if we listen to the last two messages quickly first?”
“Sure.”
Karma’s message played next. She joyfully assured Muriel that she had a fantastic date and would divulge all the details when they saw each other next. Flynn blushed and placed a gentle hand on Karma’s knee. I nearly threw up and then welcomed the beep that heralded the next message.