by Sonya Clark
Carger shifted uncomfortably in his seat but wisely kept his mouth shut.
“I was consulted, along with a number of like-minded individuals.” Jennings leaned forward. “And we’d like you to join us, Elizabeth.”
“Councilwoman Marsden,” she corrected. “No one calls me by that name. Mr. Jennings, I’m not sure what your goal is but I don’t think I’m the kind of person you’d want involved.”
“You should at least hear them out, Lizzie,” Carger said. “Look, I know you’re concerned for small business and that’s great. Very admirable. But maybe Brice is right and there is a bigger picture to look at here.”
“Abnormals are a menace,” Jennings said. “These displays need to be stopped and whatever rebellious spirit is causing them has got to be crushed. If we don’t do something, we could be looking at terrorism again. You may think this law is harsh, Councilwoman Marsden—” He put a slight emphasis on her title and name, an ugly undercurrent to it that let her know exactly how much he did not respect her, “—but if those people engage in violence again, I can guarantee you the calls for swift and vicious justice will be loud and many.”
“Vicious? That sounds more like vengeance.” Part of her wanted so much to ask if he’d been at meetings for this Tight-Ass Bigot’s Club while his wife was banging the Magic Born driver. The thought brought to mind an image of Vadim’s sardonic grin.
“Call it whatever you like. It would be far worse than what this ordinance will do. Think of it this way—it’s as much for their protection as ours.”
“Spoiling their rations and threatening them with starvation is protecting them? That’s an impressive feat of ethical gymnastics.”
Carger made a noise as if he’d swallowed a frog. “I think it’s commendable for you to show so much concern for the zone children. What would be best for them is if their caregivers felt the same and turned in the criminals in their midst. I think we can all agree on that.” He looked hopefully between Lizzie and Jennings.
She said, “Are you writing a press release or having a conversation?”
Carger blinked and sat back, the shock on his face quickly melting into anger. “Lizzie—”
“Those Magic Born children you seem willing to let starve are born of Normal mothers,” Lizzie said. “How much longer do you think you can keep taking their children away? How many of them do you think will support a law that strips their children even further of dignity? Of basic humanity? You think you can scare people into supporting this and you probably can, at least some. But you’re going to enrage people with this too.”
Jennings stood and smoothed his tie. “I have no doubt passions will be inflamed on both sides of this issue. I do hope you reconsider your feelings and come around to the right side.” He looked at Carger, some silent communication passing between them. Jennings appeared unhappy, Carger slightly ill. “My invitation still stands. I do realize this will take some convincing.” To Lizzie he said, “Good day, Miss Marsden.” He swept from the room with an imperious flourish.
Lizzie turned on her chief of staff. “Why the hell did you bring that pompous bigot here?”
“Brice Jennings wants this law to pass and he’s got the influence to make it happen. You’d do well to accept that and vote accordingly.”
“I told you I wouldn’t be making a decision without the revenue study first.”
“The revenue study won’t matter. Brice will see to that.” He sighed, then stood and walked behind the chair. Resting his hands on the top of the seat, he faced Lizzie with a grim expression. “We’ve talked about your future. I can get you into higher office but you can’t piss off people like Brice Jennings. You find him personally distasteful? Okay, fine. I don’t give a damn and you shouldn’t either.”
“This is about more than just personal distaste. The zones are bad enough as it is but this law will essentially turn the one here into a concentration camp. Is that really what Jennings wants? All because his wife ran off with a witch?”
“This has been in the works longer than that.” Carger looked away.
Alarm overtook her disgust. “What does that mean?”
He returned to his seat. “Look around you, Lizzie. Not just in New Corinth but everywhere. We’re facing tremendous problems because of the sanctions. The national economy is in a permanent recession no matter what kind of policies are enacted.”
“And you want to make it worse by cutting off trade with a portion of the city’s population? How does that make any sense?”
“The census numbers don’t look good.”
“Of course they don’t. Anyone who thought people would keep having children at the same pace if those children were at risk of being taken from them is an idiot.”
“Brice is part of an informal group of people who want to make changes that will address these issues. Their methods may seem harsh but this country is looking at existential problems. Something has to be done.”
“What makes you think I want any part of it? Or that I would support these people or their methods? I know you’ve hoped for some time now that I would run for higher office. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted, but this is too much.”
“You’ve never shied away from making the hard decisions in the past. What is it now?”
“This isn’t a hard decision. Not at all. I can’t support Two-Five-Seven and I plan to speak out against withholding rations from the Magic Born. I’ll draft a statement and have it in your in-box by morning.” She rose to pack her things, past ready to be home.
“I like you, Lizzie.” Carger spoke with a quiet intensity. “You’re an intelligent, highly capable person and I believe you have the potential to go far in politics.”
“And now you think I’m throwing all that away, right?” She shoved her tablet into her bag and powered down the office computer. “If I can’t live with myself, how far I go in politics or anything else hardly matters.”
“I didn’t want to have to do it this way,” he said as if speaking to himself.
“I’d like you to clear my schedule for tomorrow. I’m going to work with Duane on the revenue study and start putting together a counteroffensive against the ordinance.” She put on her overcoat and slung her bag over her shoulder.
“This informal group of people I mentioned...you should know that Alan Forbes was one of them.”
Lizzie stopped at the door. She turned to face Carger. He was standing, all traces of the hard-ass political operator she was used to gone. Instead, a mix of pity and resignation had drained his face of all color and life.
“You’re going to vote for Two-Five-Seven,” he said. “And you’re going to do everything else I say.”
“Michael.” She put a warning in her voice that didn’t match the panic screaming in her head.
“Or you can go to prison for lying about your status as a witch. It’s up to you.”
An ice pick of pain drove into her skull.
Chapter Ten
The sweet tang of nightshade smoke filled Vadim’s office. Thudding bass from the dance hall below reverberated pleasantly. He nodded his head in time with the beat, the movement almost unconscious, as he scanned the security feeds at the video terminal. Seeing something he didn’t like, he thumbed a button and spoke into the headset to Gina, the club’s top bouncer. “Northwest corner. A couple of assholes look like they might be keeping a girl from leaving. Check it out.”
“Got it,” she replied. Static crackled in his ear as she clicked off.
Vadim noshed on pretzels while keeping an eye on the monitor. Soon Gina appeared in the black-and-white feed, dark tank top accentuating her muscled arms and long ponytail swinging. Words were exchanged but the camera was too far away for Vadim to make out any of it with his meager lip-reading skills. The girl slipped away, quickly lost in the crowd. One of the
assholes made the mistake of reaching for her as she fled. Vadim smiled. In seconds, Gina had the idiot on his knees, arm pinned behind his back at an awkward and probably painful angle. The other guy stepped away, hands up in a gesture that said please don’t hurt me. The bouncer had it under control so Vadim turned his attention elsewhere.
Nothing else on the security feeds attracted his notice. He removed the headset and left it next to the monitors. A second cone of nightshade incense and a fresh drink helped keep his thoughts from straying to the wrong places, for all of thirty seconds anyway. He picked up his tablet and stylus wand and relaxed in the chaise lounge.
Food was the biggest problem. Keeping some desperate parent from turning in Tyler or one of the other orphanage kids he ran with might turn out to be a serious problem if Vadim didn’t figure something out soon. So far he had two options on the table: commit various types of cyber fraud for money, which would then be used to buy food and other supplies, or just steal what they needed outright. Either way, crime was on the menu and he liked the familiar taste of it.
Trancehacking while high on nightshade always turned the internet into a Kandinsky abstract. The blue-and-white lines of cyberspace widened and stretched like rubber bands, bubbles of random color popping up all over. His consciousness sank deep into trance and even deeper into the greens and purples of the drug, wisps of it wrapping around his perception like fog on a rainy night. Realspace crackled at the edge of his vision as he lifted his glass, draining the drink in one swallow. He blinked away reality and dove fully into cyberspace, hopscotching through hidden links to reach the darknet. Wide lanes of glossy black opened up. Muddy swatches of red haze marked various sites, most of which he ignored out of habit, since he liked his porn live and in person. Password-protected chat rooms glowed in muted shades of blue. He searched for one with ribbons of yellow, red and green woven into the code, so faint the colors were easily missed. There. It pulsed with magic. Vadim opened it with a spell and entered to find he was once again late for the meeting.
This week it was only Detroit, Fresno, Baltimore and New Corinth. Every zone had at least a nominal connection to the railroad. Some were more active than others, depending on geography and the level of dedication from the local Magic Born who knew about it. Geographically speaking, New Corinth made for a good stop on the railroad. It was a workable distance between other cities and on the way toward ports and border crossings, allowing people some much-needed rest during the hard journey through the rural wastelands. What made FreakTown especially important to the underground was Vadim and his abilities. This chat room and much of the rest of their darknet network had been built by him.
Detroit simmered with her usual impatient energy, her avatar a stylized image of the warrior queen Boudicca. Fresno’s energy pulsed erratically, which usually indicated he’d been arguing with his husband again. His Green Man avatar had taken on the reds and golds of autumn leaves. Baltimore barely registered, probably almost as drunk as Vadim was high, his Eye of Horus avatar dimly lit. They never used names in case someone was caught. The entire group of railroad leaders never met at once, for the same reason.
Vadim sent a nonchalant pulse of low-level energy by way of greeting. His own avatar was a vivid blue Pegasus with wings the color of eggplant and a neon-pink mane. He’d been in an especially whimsical mood the night he designed it, and very, very high.
Detroit said, “Is it true? Did they really destroy rations in FreakTown?”
“Yes.” Vadim nodded in realspace, sending colors and shapes swimming. “I’ve got the next few days covered but after that we’re gonna have to get creative.”
“This has to do with the Jennings thing, doesn’t it? Why the hell did you let that sojourner take them?” Fresno’s anger was so palpable it burned right through the tranquil layer of nightshade wrapped around Vadim.
He pushed back with a quick burst of electric magic that flashed through the chat room like a power surge. “The sojourner who made that run has my complete trust. She made a judgment call and as far as I’m concerned, that’s the end of it.” No need to tell them about all the yelling and screaming he’d done. That was between him and Tuyet and any random passersby who’d happened to overhear his tantrum the night she’d made it back to FreakTown. “But that’s not what the ration problem is about.”
“I’ve been hearing about magic displays in the city,” said Detroit. “You got some people you can’t keep under control?”
“It’s just kids, no big deal. Kids throwing a little witchlight and enchanted graffiti around town. They’re not hurting anyone.” Keeping a defensive edge out of his tone was hard but he mostly managed it.
“Sounds like they’re hurting other Magic Born,” said Fresno. “And like you can’t control your people.”
Vadim snapped, “Yeah, trying to control people has really worked out well so far. Look, these kids. They’re just trying to connect with young Normals. The hell of it is, it’s working.”
“But at what cost? You can’t let this continue.” Sympathy wafted from Detroit.
“They know that. It’s over. They’re not going to do it again. I’ll figure out how to deal with the rations problem without turning them in.”
Fresno said, “That’s what your Admin wants? Someone to turn the kids in?”
“It’s not happening. I’ve got a couple of plans for the short-term. If this turns into a long-term situation, we’ll need help.”
“The railroad doesn’t exist to clean up one zone’s mess. Deal with it yourself.”
Fresno was really starting to piss him off. “No way in hell would I turn down a request for help from any one of you or any other zone. What the fuck is your problem?”
Baltimore entered the conversation with an unsteady rush of energy. “He’s a cheap son of a bitch is his problem. The New Corinth zone will get whatever it needs.” There was a long pause but the energy didn’t fade. Vadim imagined the other man taking a drink and wished he hadn’t already drained his own glass.
Detroit made a noise of assent. “Let us know as soon as you can so we can start moving food and supplies through the underground if need be.”
The rest of the meeting was spent covering railroad business. Transport of an unusually large group of people, many of them children kept unregistered and off the grid, was coming up. Hashing out the details was tedious and boring but necessary. Vadim did his best to focus, blinking away flashes of red hair and long legs that interrupted his thoughts.
She’d never set a time for their clandestine lessons. Once he was done with business he would make his way to Sheridan Village.
Meeting concluded, Baltimore and Fresno left the chat room first. Detroit lingered. Vadim bit back his impatience and gave her a more detailed explanation of what was happening in FreakTown.
“Can you keep others from turning them in?” The combination of concern and grim determination in her voice made him think of his mother.
“If I can keep everybody fed—especially the infants. One of the kids volunteered to turn himself in.”
She was silent for a moment. “Could he handle it?”
“It’s not an option. He’s like us.”
Detroit swore. He had no idea what she looked like, how old she was, anything. He imagined she had a bit of warrior in her, like all the women in his life he admired. Her avatar seemed to suit her. “Then he has to be protected. Are you spending much time out in the forums lately?”
“None. I don’t have the time.” That wasn’t entirely true but she didn’t need to know everything about him.
“You might want to take a look. One of my people keeps an eye out and brought some things to my attention. There’s a lot of talk about the Jennings thing and how they got out.”
“There have been rumors for as long as we’ve been doing this. It’s to be expected.”
“I thought it would die down after a month or two but it seems to be getting worse. There’s a specificity to the rumors and questions I don’t like.”
“A specificity? What the hell does that mean?”
“It means I think someone is leading the conversation. I think someone is rooting around, looking for information, and I don’t think it’s someone who wants to follow the Jennings woman and her lover out.”
Vadim recalled Feltner’s nervousness and his talk of security inspections at GSS. It might be necessary to look into Brice Jennings and see if he posed any kind of threat.
That, Vadim would have to do sober. “So what if somebody’s looking? They’re not going to find anything.” Tuyet had assured him of that.
“We’d better hope.” She bid him good-night and left the chat room.
Vadim lingered a few minutes. They usually tried to space out their entrances and exits, in the hopes of making the meetings look like random socializing. He thought he had a clear path out but an avatar zipped past as he left the chat room. A blur of electric blue surrounding some sort of black flower was all he could make out—that and the flat, steady energy of a Normal. He filed it away in case the avatar popped up around their meetings again and went about his business.
Some time spent skimming the forums wasn’t a bad idea but he was loath to do it. For one thing, it was hard to sift through the inane crap people talked about to find anything of interest. For another, he had an appointment with a redhead. He left the darknet and cyberspace as quickly as he could without causing the unpleasant snapback of being jerked out of trance.
Realspace hung heavy and flat on his skin, black and white in his vision and devoid of energy. He closed his eyes and set the tablet on the floor with care. Just a few minutes of breathing in the sweet smoke and it wouldn’t matter.
He floated in a haze of nightshade and exhaustion. He’d had too many nights with too little sleep and the various chemicals weren’t making up for it like they used to. One of these days he was going to have to slow down. Clean up. Get healthy. Gods. Maybe not.