by Sonya Clark
* * *
Lizzie checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her makeup was impeccable and there was no swelling or other sign of the meltdown she’d had after Vadim left her without a word. Not that she blamed him. He’d made himself pretty clear, and she supposed she’d done the same. Still, it hurt. Not just rejecting him but the humiliation it made her feel. How could she ever tell him how terrified she was of being exposed? Exploring her magical abilities was one thing. Giving up her life, her home, her identity and rights of citizenship...just thinking about it made cold dread seep into her bones.
She’d lost control last night, witchlight popping in the air and the electronics whirring and crackling. There’d been none of the destruction like the night in kitchen at the house because she’d gotten control of herself and her magic in fairly short order. For once, she hadn’t hit herself as a means of grounding. No, every blow to her face and arms and legs last night had been about punishment. Disgust with herself for being such a coward.
Ice helped. Both the literal kind, wrapped in cloth and held against her cheeks, and the mental exercises she’d been doing for years. Walls of solid ice all around her, a protective glacier that provided a buffer between her and the rest of the world. After a bare hour of sleep that was really more like dozing, she’d readied herself for the day.
She stepped out of her car. Wind whistled through the parking garage, so cold it cut right through her wool blazer. Another set of heels sounded on the concrete and she glanced to her left to see who it was.
“Morning, Lizzie.”
Sheila Copeland had represented the Rockenbach area for nearly a decade. Tough as nails, she was a fierce advocate for the city’s low-income and poor citizens, most of whom lived in her district. In recent years she’d become an increasingly vocal supporter of the Magic Born, as well.
“Good morning, Sheila.”
“Mind if we talk for a minute before we get inside?”
This was no accidental meeting. Sheila did nothing by chance. Her dark face set with determination, she gestured at a wide support pillar that would afford them some protection from the wind. Lizzie followed, even though she knew what was likely to be the subject of this conversation and would have done just about anything to get out of it. There would be no avoiding the other councilwoman, though, so she figured she might as well get it over with.
Sheila didn’t waste any time. “Two-Five-Seven.”
“I don’t like it any more than you do, but—”
“But nothing. Reservations are bad enough. That ordinance passes, we’ll have a concentration camp in our city. Is that what you want for New Corinth?”
“Of course not.” There was no way she could explain her predicament to Sheila. The other woman might be sympathetic to her being Magic Born, but the blackmail would earn Lizzie no sympathy. Copeland was the kind of person who, if faced with the same threat, would not only stare it down but probably out herself before anyone else had the chance. Lizzie was not prepared to do that. “There’s a lot at stake with this.”
Sheila eyed her with cool suspicion. Laughing, she tossed her braids over her shoulder and opened her handbag. “I guess it’s possible for a person to be more noncommittal.”
“I don’t want to vote for this.” But she might have to, and the thought made her sick.
“I heard Brice Jennings paid you a visit.” Sheila withdrew a pen and small notepad, scribbling on the paper. “He threaten you or try to bribe you? From what I’m hearing, it’s one or the other.”
Lizzie crossed her arms and looked away. “I’d rather not say.”
“Threat, then.” The sound of tearing paper made Lizzie jump. Sheila folded the slip and handed it to her. “I’m having a community meeting in Rock after the first of the year, right after the bill is announced. I want people to know what’s at stake here. I’d like for you to come, hear what folks have to say. Maybe even have a meeting of your own in your district.”
Lizzie took the paper with reluctance, slipping it into a pocket. “Do you know where the vote stands right now?”
The look on her face said it all. “I need all the help I can get to convince people not to be scared of Jennings. Will you at least think about coming to that meeting?”
“I will.”
Sheila patted her on the arm. “I’ll take what I can get. Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go have harsh words with NCML over their damn budget cuts.” The New Corinth Metro Line had been advocating cutting public transportation hours in Rock, the part of the city that both needed it most and had the least clout to keep it from happening.
“Give my best to Rose.” Sheila was married to a doctor at one of the city’s overburdened public clinics.
“Will do.” The click-clack of her heels echoed as she hurried away.
Lizzie had a conference call to get to, one she had zero interest in. At least it was relatively harmless, being about a scholarship fund. As soon as it was over she’d leave city hall and spend the rest of the day hiding out in her office in her district. Denial and avoidance were highly underrated.
Chapter Seventeen
There was a difference between a hangover from too much booze and one from too much magic. Vadim couldn’t remember what those differences were, but he was pretty sure he had both at the moment. His tongue felt as though he’d scraped it on the bottom of sewer tunnels all the way home. Tasted that way too, damn it. His eyes itched and his head pounded behind them. His head also pounded above the back of his neck, at the sides and pretty much everywhere else it could pound. Crusted blood above his upper lip told him his nose had bled at some point, not that he remembered. That was a magic hangover thing. He at least knew that much.
Then he remembered what he’d done to cause a magic hangover and wanted to shoot himself.
He sat up, every muscle and bone in his body protesting. Last night’s stolen bottle of bad influence became a thunderous bomb as it rolled off the bed and crashed to the floor. He whimpered, holding his head and fighting the bile rising in his throat. A horrifying racket made his head throb so badly he wanted to crawl under the bed, or perhaps back into the tunnels where he would hide until either all noise ceased forever or his head quit hurting, whichever happened first. Someone called his name and he realized the awful noise was somebody knocking on his door.
“Go away,” he whispered into his hands.
“Vadim, are you in there? This is important.”
Oh gods, that wretched woman Tuyet. She would never leave. Hours from now she’d still be beating on his door, the sound of it preventing him from slipping into a merciful hangover-induced coma. Every knock like a nail down a blackboard. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and nearly vomited.
The room spun as he slid to the floor. He gave up on the idea of walking. Crawling could get him anywhere he wanted to go, in his apartment at least. Not that he wanted to go anywhere.
The wards on his front door breaking made his ears pop and a fine sweat break out on his skin, on top of the boozy dried sweat that clung like a dirty, sticky film. Only Tuyet would have the balls to break his wards. He slumped against the bed frame, waiting. She’d find him eventually.
It didn’t take her long. Her boots tattooed on the wooden floor. “Oh my God,” she said. “What is that smell?”
“Shame. Degradation. The stench of truly phenomenal stupidity.” He looked at her through slitted eyes. “Good morning, Tuyet.”
She knelt beside him, curling her lip. “Good afternoon, Vadim. Phenomenal stupidity smells like you slept in a vat of cheap booze.”
“I’ll have you know it was very expensive booze. Or would have been, had I paid for it.”
She moved away from him, or more likely from the offending smell. “Those kids went off zone last night, got a little crazy with some holiday decorat
ions in Sheridan Village.”
Guilt sent his already fragile stomach into a tailspin. “It wasn’t kids. What did Lewis do this time?”
“Nothing. That’s the weird part. They’re not even questioning anyone.”
Of course not. Why bother, when they could use it to advance the city law that would trap the Magic Born in the zone? Fuck, fuck, fuck. “I really am a special kind of idiot.”
“No, you’re not. You’re just a regular kind of idiot. Is there anything you want to tell me?”
“I’m not really Russian.” He attempted a laugh but it came out more of a gurgle.
“I know.”
“My mother, she just had this weird thing about Doctor Zhivago. Her last name was Burgess, for fuck’s sake.”
“She just wanted to give you some kind of heritage, even if it wasn’t really yours.”
“I can’t speak Russian worth a shit.”
Tuyet sighed. “I can’t speak Vietnamese. What do you know about what happened last night?”
“I got drunk and did something stupid. I don’t think I can fix it.”
“What’s going on?”
He told her about the ordinance but left out the parts about Lizzie. He’d have to get drunk again to have that conversation.
Tuyet sat on the floor with her knees drawn up. “One of the contacts at the bazaar came in with a message. The cyber attacks have a lot of people spooked. They want to move up the timeline.”
Vadim said, “News about this law gets out, they’ll really be clamoring to move it up.” Once, maybe twice a year the underground moved a larger-than-usual group of people, individuals or families with kids kept off the grid who were finally old enough to handle the trip. He needed more ID badges for the next group and now, with the ordinance, he wanted as many as he could get. He was going to have to see Lizzie again after all but there wouldn’t be time to teach her the kind of magic she would need to get access to those badges.
“Okay.” He rubbed his face with his hands, dried blood coming off his upper lip. Gods, he was a mess. “So instead of the GSS anniversary party in February, we’ll go for the Christmas party next week.”
“Is that possible? Do you have someone who can get us in?”
“Yeah. Have you got the building plans yet?”
“Give me until tomorrow. There’s still a couple of passwords I need to crack.”
“Good, cause I’m too fried to be worth anything. Go do your thing and I’m gonna sleep this off.”
She climbed to her feet. “I heard you were pretty hot and heavy on the dance floor last night. That have anything to do with your little drunk-and-disorderly fit?”
Annoyance poked at his headache, making it worse. “How the hell do you hear stuff like that? You don’t even live here. And who the hell says hot and heavy?” He jerked his thumb at the bedroom door. “Get out. I’m about to crawl to the shower so unless you want to help me out of these clothes, you need to leave.”
“See you tomorrow, comrade.” Her boots clomped on the floor as she left, probably deliberately, damn her.
A shower and sleep and to not feel like an idiot—that’s what he needed before seeing Lizzie again. At least he’d get two out of three.
* * *
Vadim spent the rest of the day and early evening in his apartment nursing his double hangover. Gina ran the club for him again and he banished all thought of visiting a certain city council member. He wanted a plan first and that meant waiting for Tuyet. By ten o’clock he was starting to feel close to human again. He found Zinnia and her new boyfriend in the underground kitchen and talked her into making him a late-night breakfast.
They were an odd pair, this nature-based practitioner who worked as a midwife and wrote novels and serials on the side and her tarot-reading boyfriend who, though born of witch parents in the zone, had no magical ability whatsoever. His Normal DNA didn’t give him a pass out of FreakTown though. Rather than crumble under the awkwardness and useless yearning that might have manifested in someone else, he’d made a place for himself. Vadim respected that and apparently it had made a hell of an impact on the normally shy Zinnia. He watched their delicate interaction, their half-hidden smiles and discreet touches. There was a sweetness to it he found charming and completely unattainable for himself.
Vadim thanked Zinnia for the meal and left. He had a search spell to check on. Restless energy urged him to badge out and leave the zone rather than go home and trancehack via his tablet. A light mist blurred the bright neon and LED signage on the streets of Rockenbach to a hazy glow. Even the dank chill didn’t deter crowds. The usual Friday night throng filled the main thoroughfare of this section of the city, loud and raucous and mostly friendly. The mean drunks wouldn’t be out until later, when they drifted over from the scary dives and nightshade dens in Riverside. Music rose and ebbed as he passed open doorways—a jangle of clashing beats and styles. The orange sign marking the arcade appeared, sputtering and missing all its vowels.
He ducked inside and joined the line. The gamers were mostly Normals, all ages and all too broke to afford home systems. A few young Magic Born kept their heads down. Gaming systems were not something he’d considered as a business sideline but with more and more of the zone kids coming to places like this, perhaps he should. He’d likely have to hurry though. Lizzie didn’t know when a vote would be called on the ordinance but whenever it was, he wouldn’t get his hopes up for a win in the Magic Born column.
The line moved quicker than usual. This time of year, even gamers spent their money on other things. He paid for one of the cubicles that lined the walls, wanting the privacy. The tight space made the skin between his shoulder blades itch. He angled the hard plastic chair to allow him to keep the heavy black curtain in his sight. If anybody peeked in, he didn’t want it to be a surprise. He considered playing Silver Wheels just to check out the game, see what all the hype was about. This trip wasn’t for play, though, so he set that thought aside and chose something less likely to distract him. He sped through two levels of an online multiplayer game based on Norse mythology, then let himself get killed by a frost giant so he had an excuse to sit out for a while. It was a common technique for people wanting to spend time surfing the internet without getting thrown off a console for not gaming. Business might have been a little slower than usual but there were still plenty of gamers in line who’d be glad to take his spot.
He opened up a new screen and let a porn site load. A video of two busty girls playing pony and rider was advertised prominently on the front page. Pony play wasn’t his usual preference but he tapped the screen to select it, dialing up the volume.
Paused game and loud porn providing cover, he took out his stylus wand, keeping it hidden in one hand with the tip pointed at the screen. Nightshade would have helped him mellow out into a trance state but he didn’t have that luxury here. He had to work for it, and as fidgety as his unsettled nerves were, it wasn’t easy.
After several minutes the blue-white lines of cyberspace appeared superimposed over the video of one girl taking a riding crop to the ample bottom of the other. Fake moans sounded as if they came from underwater, and then both the image and noise disappeared as he dove fully into trancehacking.
He’d had his own tablet for so long it had been years since he’d done this in an unsecure environment. Maybe the stupid hadn’t worked itself out of his system yet. Instead of sleeping it off he might need to sweat it out, let Nathan beat the hell out of him in the gym. For all the idiotic things he’d done lately, surely he deserved it.
The arcade had been open for decades, serving a never-ending rotation of games and gamers. Vadim had been eight the first time he came in, barely tall enough to reach a console. Three years later, exhausted from a double weekend shift at a warehouse by the river, he nearly fell asleep while playing an online multiplayer game. Instead he got hi
s first glimpse at cyberspace. He’d known enough about astral projection to have some idea of what had happened, thanks to his mother’s hidden boxes of old magical texts. Making it happen on purpose, now that had been the trick.
It had taken time, sweat and nearly getting caught more times than he could count, but eventually he’d done it. It had taken longer still to find others like him, who lived in faraway zones but were able to use their strange shared ability to meet in the neon-filled eternal night that was cyberspace. Of all the highs he’d relentlessly pursued through booze, drugs and sex, none of them compared to being free among the blue-white lines and flashbulb lights he found with trancehacking. The most mundane information often fascinated him just as much as the secrets buried deep under layers of encryption. It was a vast world he could never fully explore, and some self-aware part of him knew it made being trapped in a zone even worse having some knowledge of what else was out there. Even so, he kept coming back. For one thing, it was another tool to use against the Magic Laws. That alone made it worth any brief moments of depression when he read about life for Magic Born in countries that weren’t afraid of them.
He navigated quickly to the defunct site where he’d planted a search spell. Two of the names he’d included were immediately dismissed when he looked over the information that came back on them. The third was the jackpot—a cypherpunk who called herself Kiku. That helped explain how a Normal was able to break through railroad security. The person who was doing it wasn’t just an everyday hacker. She was an encryption specialist. Still, chances were high she’d had some exposure to a Magic Born who could trancehack. Otherwise, how would she even begin to know what to look for?
Now that he had a name, he went back to the hot bzns board and scrolled through, looking for references to her. Given how long he’d spent in cyberspace, the pony play video must have repeated three or four times.
Looking for information about traveling from New Corinth to Mexican border, probable fake identification, Normal and Abnormal. High pay, bonus for names.