by Sonya Clark
“Brice isn’t the only one who supports this,” Carger said. “And it’s hardly about one person. Those people are coming into Normal parts of town and showing off their magic. We can’t allow that to continue.”
Mendoza said, “They haven’t hurt anyone. So far all they’ve done is entertain people.”
“And when they start setting off bombs again? How entertaining will that be?”
Lizzie wrapped her other hand around the mug, twining her fingers together until they hurt. “It’s been decades since there was any Magic Born terrorism.” Her head began to pound, her heartbeat loud in her ears.
Carger slapped the table. “This law will help to keep it that way.”
Mendoza started to argue. Lizzie cut him off with a sharp look. “I’m not committing either way until it’s public and we know what the people want.”
“So you’ll be wanting polling?” Mendoza sounded miffed but not surprised.
“Yes,” she said. “And if no one else asks for it, I’ll be asking for a study of what this will do for the city’s tax revenues.”
Carger said, “I really think we should talk about—”
“We’re done,” Lizzie snapped. “It’s late and I’m ready to be home. I’m sure we all are.”
Everyone but Carger jumped up to leave, no doubt glad to be through for the day and through with this conversation. Mendoza nodded as he left.
“They think I’m a coldhearted bastard,” Carger said with a chuckle. “I am. I’m also right. You’re going to have to vote for this, Lizzie.”
“I’ll lose my seat on the council. You know that.”
“It won’t matter. The support you gain will get you in the state legislature. This is a long game.”
“It’s not a game. You may not like to hear it but Duane’s right. In fact, I’d say he didn’t go far enough. This is going to enrage people.”
“Some of them, yes. But it’s necessary. These laws need to be strengthened while we can.”
For the first time since bringing up the damned ordinance, Carger spoke to the real heart of the matter, whether he wanted to admit it or not. People like himself and Jennings were afraid. They saw themselves losing control as more and more people lost the old fears of magic and the ones born gifted with it. Or cursed, as her mother used to say.
That was the wrong line of thinking. Thoughts of her parents were never helpful in maintaining her calm, and above all else she needed to stay calm at all times. Calm as a floe of ice on the sea, she thought as she latched on to an old method, picturing it in her head. Frozen in a contained, safe state. They’d sacrificed so much for her. Protected her, from others and from herself. Staying calm, staying contained, was one of the best ways to honor their memory for everything they’d done for her.
“I said I wouldn’t make a decision so soon and I won’t. Go home, Michael. It’s been a long day.” She sipped her lukewarm tea, refusing to look at him.
Abnormal trash. Abnormal filth. The pressure ticked in her head, one degree closer to dangerous. Looking at him, after hearing him say those words, could send the tension into overload. Instead she watched the tablet. A news ticker scrolled along the bottom. File headings ran in three columns on the left side. A few smeared fingerprints marred the touch screen surface. The desktop image designed to show the current weather shimmered with rain falling on the cityscape.
Carger packed away his own tablet and briefcase and bade her good evening.
Lizzie sat completely still for several minutes. The pressure built slowly, steadily, a heavy fullness in her head and her chest that threatened to spread if she didn’t do something about it. The room was empty, the door closed. Keeping one hand wrapped around the tea mug as if it could provide an anchor, she raised her other hand over the tablet. The skin facing the device immediately warmed. Electricity crackled between her fingertips and the screen, thin blue lines of power that glowed like lightning over the image of rain.
Quickly, she balled her hand into a fist and held it to her chest, nails pressing hard into her palm. Heart pounding, breath coming in short gasps, she waited for the pressure to ease. Finally it did, replaced with layer upon layer of icy control. The vibration of magic lingered underneath. It always did, no matter how hard she worked to suppress it.
Chapter Two
Vadim stared at the man who was speaking, hearing his words but not believing them. Not wanting to believe.
“Look, I’ve never asked questions and I’m not gonna start now. It’s just, even as good as the money is, it’s not worth it to me anymore. You’re gonna have to find someone else.”
Thomas Feltner was a vice president at Galvan Security Systems and Vadim’s contact for information about various city and state computer security systems. Even more important, he was Vadim’s source for blank ID cards. He didn’t know Vadim’s name or even what he really looked like, thanks to a glamour, but they’d had a decent working relationship for years based on Vadim’s need and Feltner’s greed. Until now.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Vadim said. He felt as if he’d been saying that far too often lately.
“I’m sorry, man, I really am. But there’s too much heat coming down right now.”
“Too much heat?” Vadim took a step backward, a smattering of fat raindrops hitting his head like soft coins. They were in an alley behind a Midtown restaurant. Feltner stood underneath the torn canopy of a side entrance nobody used, huddled into a dark suit coat and smelling of smoke and sweat. Vadim could have cheerfully used the man’s head for a soccer ball with the trash bin at the end of the alley as the goal. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!”
“I made it through the initial sweep, but they’re going to keep looking. They know those cards came from GSS and they know who has access. I can’t risk it anymore.”
“Risk?” Vadim bit back his anger. “Come on, don’t think of it as risk. It’s a challenge. Think of it as a challenge, with a very nice reward at the end.” He offered his best salesman’s smile, the one he’d used to entice nightshade buyers into being his customers years ago and still used to entice women into his bed.
“It’s not about the money.” Feltner shivered in the cold night air.
“I can pay you more.”
“I said it’s not—”
“I can throw in other forms of payment. I can get you magic.” They’d never discussed whether Vadim was Normal or Magic Born. As long as the cash was real, Feltner had never cared. “Charms. Spells. Glamours.”
Feltner shook his head. “I’m not interested in that stuff.”
“A witch lover? Male, female, one of each. Whatever you want.” He knew any number of prostitutes who would be willing. None of them would have any trouble controlling a pudgy, middle-aged desk jockey like this guy.
Feltner appeared to consider it for a moment, then shook his head again. “That’s a very nice offer, but no. Nothing is worth what’ll happen if I get caught. Look, you don’t understand. The company’s already done one top-to-bottom review this year, after the Jennings thing.”
Vadim bit his lip. The Jennings thing, as Feltner called it, was something he’d be happy to never hear about again. “I didn’t know that.”
“That guy’s a lot more powerful than you’d think. Got friends all over town, in all the right places if you know what I mean. Business and government.”
“You mean Bruce Jennings?”
“It’s Brice but yeah, him.” Feltner sighed and looked over his shoulder. The door was still closed tight. “From what I hear, he was pretty pissed about his wife taking off like that. With, you know.” Feltner tilted his head as if to indicate what he didn’t want to say.
“With a mere employee or with a Magic Born employee?” Vadim smiled.
“Heh, both. They kept it out of the news cove
rage but there was a pretty big freak-out over how they did it. I mean, trying to figure out how they did it.”
Vadim nodded. He’d had a pretty big freak-out himself when he found out one of the best sojourners in the underground had almost been caught at the Mexican border guiding a rich Normal and her Magic Born lover to safety. With the Mexican government granting the couple asylum and letting the guide slip away unidentified, it had blown up into a significant incident between the two countries, something too big to keep entirely off the news. Vadim had had to shut the railroad through FreakTown down for nearly three months afterward, redirecting people to other avenues of escape. He’d also forced the sojourner, Tuyet, to cool her heels in the city. She’d insisted no one on the U.S. side of the border got a look at her, but Vadim had preferred to play it cautious. She now lived under a fake Normal identity in an apartment building not far from the arcade, and she would until he felt confident it was safe for her to travel again.
“My boss plays golf with Jennings every other weekend,” Feltner said. “Says he’s still furious about it. That he’s convinced she had help. He’s even talked about crazy stuff he’s read online, about ways to get out of the country.” Feltner gave him a meaningful look. “A man like that, connected, pissed off. I feel like I’m getting out of this business arrangement at the right time.” He glanced at his feet for a moment, then looked back up and met Vadim’s eyes. “Whatever it is you’re doing, maybe you should think about getting out of that business too.”
A gust of rain swept through the alley. Garbage swirled on the ground near the trash bin. Vadim kicked at a loose chunk of concrete and shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “It doesn’t work that way, Thomas. Outlaws like me don’t get out of the business.”
Feltner shrugged, a rueful smile on his face. “Find a nice girl and settle down.”
“Pick up a hobby and watch sports on the weekend.” Vadim laughed. “No.”
“I didn’t think so. Look, this money’s been really good for my family. I appreciate it. And yeah, it was kind of a thrill. The GSS board is full of assholes. Screwing them over a little was nice. But I have to stop. I don’t want my wife and daughter left alone while I spend the rest of my life in prison.”
Vadim thought it through. He could press Feltner, try to force the man to continue. But that wouldn’t work. If he got caught, Feltner would likely talk. Even with a glamour hiding Vadim’s true appearance and Feltner not having a name or status to give authorities, it would still be bad for the Magic Born and for the railroad. Impromptu raids all over the zone, stepped-up harassment of various kinds, even framing scapegoats—these were all things Vadim could imagine happening. Risk was one thing, but this seemed destined for failure.
He needed a new contact, preferably one with a vested interest in keeping their mouth shut. He needed real leverage on someone, not just money they could decide to turn down. He needed someone he could blackmail, and as the rain came down heavier, he realized he knew just how to find that someone.
Vadim nodded. “It was good doing business with you, kind sir.”
Feltner waved, one hand already on the door. “Stay out of trouble, okay?”
Vadim grinned. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
* * *
The blue-and-white glow of digital files surrounded Vadim’s consciousness as he settled deeper into trance. Thanks to Calla Vesper and her secret brother, he had a treasure trove of information to sift through. Alan Forbes, the late head of the DMS clinic in charge of regional DNA testing and certifying newborns as either Normal or Magic Born, had had an insanely successful side business selling fake test results. Anybody who had the money and the desire could hide their Magic Born child with a false birth certificate and keep the baby from being removed from the family to live in the zone. Calla’s own brother Jason Beckwith was one such unregistered Magic Born. Vadim intended to find out who else was, and if they might be able to give him what he needed.
It was the last requirement that was tricky. Most of the people Forbes had issued fake results for were like Jason, too young to be in a position to have access to anything that could help the railroad. The Beckwith kid was in college. According to the files, the oldest person Forbes had hidden was in their mid-twenties.
Frustrated, Vadim sent a slew of files spinning. Data regressed from readable words back to ones and zeros for a moment, then righted like a top bobbing to the surface of disturbed water. He pushed deeper into the files, hoping something might draw his attention. There had to be something useful in the mess. Older records, the name of a parent that could be coerced into working for him, yet another hidden offshore account he could raid. The greedy bastard had had an absurd amount of money stashed away in numerous accounts. Vadim had been happy to empty them out and put the money to better use. One thing he couldn’t understand was why the doctor had kept such meticulous records of his own crimes. Was it for blackmail purposes, or had the daft old fucker just been obsessive-compulsive? Either way, it was a boon to the railroad, and Vadim was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
A batch of files from the doctor’s private clinic was Vadim’s next destination. Many of the patient names matched those of Magic Born whom Forbes had been paid to keep hidden. As Vadim glanced through the documents, it was easy for him to form a picture. There were things about Magic Born, especially young ones with little or no control of their abilities yet, that would alert a Normal doctor immediately. To keep those children safe, they’d have to be taken to Forbes and his private clinic for most illnesses and injuries.
Vadim didn’t believe for a second that Forbes was the first or only doctor to take a bribe for a fake DNA test. There had to be patients at his clinic whose fake tests came from Forbes’s predecessor or a facility in another region. With that thought in mind, Vadim went back through the files with more care.
It took time to strike gold, but when he did, oh, how it shined.
He came out of trance slowly, mindful of the headache waiting for him once the rush wore off. He opened his eyes, taking a moment to get used to realspace. His tablet sat on the floor in front of him, still with a bit of residual glow from the magic. Four tea light candles arrayed in the cardinal directions around him gave the room a soft glow. His stylus wand lay on one side of the tablet. A piece of concrete about the size of his palm, jagged and found in an alley close to the edge of the zone, sat on the other side. It bore a pentacle etched on its surface in thin lines of black paint. The last piece of his makeshift altar was an antique digital music player. The thing was tiny and cracked, but with a regular magical charging it continued to play songs loaded onto it decades ago by some stranger with eclectic taste. For trance work, Vadim always had it play a meditative piece based on an ancient Hindu mantra.
Vadim waved his hand carelessly, putting out the candles with a slight push of will. True to form, a nasty headache was coming on like a sudden, massive storm. Trancehacking was hard work under any circumstances, even with the benefit of ritual tools and a calm atmosphere. He crawled the several feet to his bed and pulled himself into it slowly. A lighter and a fat hand-rolled cigarette awaited him. Made of his own special blend of nightshade and marijuana, the joint would take care of the worst of the headache and help him find a little of the sleep that had eluded him the night before.
Tomorrow, he would make a plan to blackmail himself a city councilwoman.
* * *
A blustery wind chased Vadim as he mounted the stairs leading to Calla’s apartment. He beat on the door, hoping she’d hurry before the rain came. The shitty weather made his leg throb where he’d taken a bullet the year before. An old knife wound on the back of his shoulder gave an unpleasant twinge, as well. For the first time that season the air held a metallic taste of true cold, a warning of the bitter temperatures to come. Boiling hot or arctic cold was what New Corinth had rather than summer or winter, with brief week
s full of rain in between. Usually winter didn’t force itself on the city until after the new year, but it had an impatient feel to it this season. If the cold did arrive early, it might make for a tough Christmas and Corinthhenge after that, for those who participated. Vadim hadn’t been to a henge sabbat in years and he didn’t care for Christmas, or any other holiday for that matter.
The door opened, mercifully cutting off his thoughts. Nate Perez stood on the other side wearing jeans, a sweater and a sleepy expression.
“Good morning, sunshine.” Vadim pretended to glance at a wristwatch he wasn’t wearing. “Or afternoon, I should say.”
Nate grinned and held the door open for him to enter. Vadim shucked his coat and headed straight for the kitchen. The whole place reeked of cozy domesticity. Eggs and bacon for brunch, the bed still unmade, that gods-awful jazz Nate liked playing softly in the background and Calla standing at the counter dressed in pajama bottoms and a shirt so large it had to have been Nate’s. Vadim swallowed a sarcastic remark and pointed at the coffeepot that was in the middle of brewing. “Will there be enough for one more?”
“Of course.” Calla smiled and tucked a lock of purple hair behind one ear. “There’s some food left too if you’re hungry.”
“No, thank you.” Vadim suddenly felt nervous. Despite how unsettling it was to see the changes the past year and a half had brought to Calla, he was happy for her.
Nate was the reason for the changes. He made her happy in a way Vadim didn’t really understand, or want to. There were so many limitations on their life together—she couldn’t be outside the zone for more than eighteen hours at a time, they couldn’t live together and Vadim knew Nate was getting pressure from his superiors at the police department to end the relationship. But even with all that, they were still together, completely devoted to one another and clearly two halves of a whole. That was the part Vadim found disconcerting. It just didn’t make any sense to him.