by Jo Beverley
The screen picture changed to a stocky man. Alderman Higginbottom! She sidled so she could hear him.
"...have to take the cautious road here. We were given to understand that all the fixers had died in their gallant victory. We’ve been in touch with other major centers, and none of them have heard from their fixers. None of them have one on the doorstep, so to speak."
The camera shifted to the reporter, an eager young woman. "But Dan Fixer has explained that some survived, hasn't he?"
"He can explain all he wants, but we can't just take his word."
The message bar on the screen began to scroll.
Alderman Jack Higginbottom talking to Angliacom reporter Alinda Brown. Subject -- arrival at the southern gate of a person claiming to be Daniel Rutherford Fixer, our hero of the Hellbane Wars. Gates are currently being kept closed to everyone while a committee of the Witan reviews the situation.
Committee. Jenny had to bite back laughter. It was a standing joke that when anything unusual happened in Anglia, the response was: "Let's form a committee." Now they were doing it, and as always it was a way of passing time in the hope that the problem would go away.
"But given the heroic victory," Brown asked, "doesn't it seem wrong to leave someone outside for the night?"
"Well now, there's no saying how long it will be. The committee may come to a rapid decision. As always, all citizens of Anglia are welcome to observe the discussion and make presentations, either at Parliament Hall or from screen phones."
"But why not let him in to speak for himself ?" Brown persisted.
Alderman Higginbottom shed his official veneer and looked older and more strained. "Because we don't know what's come back from the war, and nor do you! This is a time for cautious thought, not impulsive action."
The screen abruptly switched to the Angliacom desk. "We have reporter Nell Raiseby now with Dan Fixer's mother…"
Jenny turned away. She couldn't bear watching that. Should she go and support Annie Rutherford? Or to the Witan to speak up for Dan?
But was it Dan? If Dan was alive, wouldn’t he have contacted his family? Or her? Especially her. Worse than that, deep inside, painful as a fatal wound, she too had doubts. If it was Dan, what had come home from the war?
"But he is a hero." When she realized she'd spoken aloud she glanced around.
No one was paying attention, thank heavens.
She slipped out of the pub. She needed to go up on the wall and see for herself.
When she stepped outside, however, dark was settling. The camera would show more than human eyes could, but a screen would be too distracting. She needed to think.
She longed to have Dan back in her life, in her arms, but even if that figure by the fire was Dan, he could be changed. She'd seen that, too, in war films. People who returned not just with physical wounds but with mental ones, driven crazy by the things they'd had to do, sometimes even destroying those they’d fought to save.
How did she find that out? How did she do the right thing with her heart yearning to have him back?
She stepped back into the pub. Part of the screen was covering the committee meeting now. Another section showed the huge basement bar in Parliament Hall with its fully screened wall that made it a popular place to watch official proceedings. An illusion of being close to the action
As the camera scanned the attentive crowd Jenny saw Tom, Rolo, Yas – a bunch of Dan’s friends – at a table. They would be coming up with some way to help him.
She ran to catch a tram, aware that she’d made one decision. The man by the fire was Dan. And that meant that she had to help him, no matter what the situation.
She was soon pushing into the crowded room, looking for the others but keeping an eye on the screens. She paused a moment to listen to the committee. Surprise, surprise. They weren't getting anywhere fast.
Where were the others?
Then someone shouted, "Jenny!" and she saw Gyrth standing and waving.
She squeezed over and those on one side wriggled together so she could squeeze on the end of the bench.
The mood was grim. "It's not going well?" she asked.
Gyrth poured her a beer. "Who knows? At this rate they'll probably talk until the next blighter attack."
"The blighters are gone."
"Whatever."
Jenny took a deep drink. "Are they going to let Dan in?"
"Probably not."
"Then what are we going to do?"
Everyone looked at her blankly.
"What can anyone do?" Rolo asked.
"Argue. Protest! They can't keep a hero out."
"When Sillitoe argued that, Alderman Potts came up with the bright idea that we can't welcome a hero of the Hellbane Wars home without adequate preparation. He wants Dan to go away until we're ready."
Jenny groaned. "Let's form another committee."
No one laughed.
Jenny eyed them all. "We could sneak him in."
Instead of approval, eyes and bodies shifted.
"That wouldn't be right," Gyrth said. "It would be... undignified."
"It's not very dignified to leave him sitting out on the grass, is it?" She stared around. "Let's do form a bloody committee."
"Don't take that tone!" Yas leaned forward poking a long, beringed finger onto the table. "It's not a simple matter, and if you think it is, you're naive. None of us know what Dan is now. Perhaps he is dangerous."
"You know better than that!"
"It's because I know better that I'm wary. There's more to him than the laughing friend, you know."
Jenny was shocked by her own outrage at Yas's claim. None of them knew what had happened. Perhaps she should tell them, but she couldn’t do it. Perhaps they wouldn’t even believe her.
"He's bound to be different, Jenny," Tom said gently.
"I suppose."
Then Rolo said something about there being more point watching cricket, and Yas turned it to office politics. In moments three different conversations were going on around the table, none of them about Dan.
If his closest friends didn't care, what could she do, especially when she knew better than any that Dan could be changed, would be changed. Not into a vampire or a ghoul, but in power. He’d begun the shift before he left.
Wild magic.
Then a screen section closed in on the long, severe face of Alice Cotrell. Jenny rolled her eyes. Mrs. Cotrell was a great one for drawing up petitions and addressing committees.
"I speak for over a hundred citizens of Anglia -- the names are here, Alders, if you wish to verify." Mrs. Cotrell waved some sheets of paper. "We wish to make it clear that many Anglians do not wish to see Dan Fixer back within our walls. While duly grateful for the service the fixers have done, we believe that his home, the home of all the fixers, is the Gaian Center for Investigation and Control of the Hostile Amorphic Native Entities."
How interesting that she used the full and formal name.
"It is intact," Mrs. Cotrell went on, "and suitable for habitation. As Dan Fixer claims there are only a small number of fixers left, there is plenty of accommodation...."
"There are others alive?" Jenny whispered to Gyrth.
"Apparently. It might be best for them to gather there to figure out what to do in the future."
“True,” Jenny said. But Dan wanted to come in.
He wanted, she suddenly realized, to come home.
Alice Cotrell was listing the many possible dangers a fixer might now present to normal people.
Normal, thought Jenny.
Alderwoman Sillitoe interrupted. "He seems perfectly normal, Mrs. Cotrell. And he was born and raised here."
Alice Cotrell stood straighter. "We do not understand his sort, any more than we understood the hellbanes. Who is to say that the fixers themselves won't turn wild on us one day?"
A murmur rolled around the room, but Jenny couldn't tell if it was shock or approval. She'd not thought of that. When a predator is eliminated, the prey o
ften takes over as pest. She followed the debate, no longer certain what was right.
In the end, she grabbed onto one thing. "Listen!" she said.
They all stared at her.
"If everyone's afraid of what Dan might be, then someone has to go outside and find out. Yas-"
"Oh no!" Yas raised a hand. "We weren't that close."
"What?"
"Not when he left. I don't know who he was rumpling with then."
Jenny turned to Tom, hoping the dim lighting hid her blush. "You're a good friend."
He turned his beer glass in his hands. "I don't know, Jenny. It's not that I'm afraid of Dan," he added quickly. "I don't think he'd deliberately hurt any of us.”
"Tom!"
"You know better?" Yas demanded. "Why has he pretended to be dead for weeks?"
That was the overwhelming question. "I don't know,” Jenny said. “I just know that someone has to go and find out why he's here and what he wants…" The resistance around the table dragged her words to a halt. "All right. How many here want Dan back home?"
Eyes shifted. Perhaps some hands twitched, but none went up.
"It depends..."
"We can't decide yet…."
"I need to know..."
"My, my. The committee really is in touch with the mood of the voters, isn't it?"
"If you're so set on this," said Yas, "why don’t you go and find out what's come home from the war."
It was a challenge, one Jenny knew Yas didn't expect her to accept.
She turned her attention to the screen, hoping for something that would save her. No. They were consulting some expert about the place of Hellbane U in Gaian society.
She didn't want to do this, but she had to. She’d remembered what she'd said when she'd parted from Dan. "Come back," she'd said. "That's an order."
And he'd replied, “If I possibly can."
She took a deep breath then looked back around the table. "I will, then, on one condition."
After a stunned moment, Tom said, "You don't have to-"
"If no one else will, I will. But on one condition. I'm your representative. If I come back and say Dan's safe, you all support that."
"What good will it do?" Rolo asked.
"If necessary, we smuggle him in and carry on the fight from here. Once people see he's just Dan, they'll change. Most of them want the fixing back. Medical technology doesn’t fix things. Are we agreed?"
She thought for a terrible moment that they'd chorus no, but then Yas, of all people, said, "Yes. Fine. After all, you're such a careful sort. If you think he's safe, he's probably comatose."
It hurt, but Jenny hid it and waited until they'd all agreed. Then she stood. "All right. Let's do it."
The easiest way out was through the storage basement of Gyrth's uncle's grocery. They'd used it as teenagers when sneaking outside had seemed like an adventure. It didn't take long to move the stack of heavy boxes, then work out the loose stones that blocked the tunnel through the thick wall. Wriggling down the rough, dusty hole wasn't Jenny's favorite thing, but right now it seemed a small challenge. She wriggled backward so her feet went out first, hung on with her fingers a second longer than necessary and then dropped the six feet or so to the grass.
She was committed now.
Chapter 7
She waved at Gyrth, whose blond head was sticking out of the hole to make sure she was all right, then turned toward that glowing fire.
She shivered under the swamp of chill air and dark infinity. Once again she couldn't see the ground beneath her feet and Dan wasn't guiding her. She made herself step forward. She knew this was smooth grass, but she still felt for each step as if an abrupt crevasse might pitch her into destruction.
Then light shimmered, forming a silvery path across the grass, a path to the fire. To that figure by the fire, even though he hadn't moved.
She froze. He could do this. What else could he do?
Then he turned. "Hello, Jen."
He was still just a shape against the glow, but it was Dan's voice for sure, just the same as before except for the tone. She searched that tone for welcome, for warmth, and found none. Something inside shrank, wanting to run away. What if he didn't even remember the night that was so important to her? Combat stress caused neural damage that could show in many ways.
"Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."
She walked forward, picking that apart. I won't hurt you. Not, I can't hurt you.
She'd known that -- that he was controlled not by what he could do but by what he allowed himself to do -- yet she was suddenly crushed by the mission she'd so carelessly chosen. Who was she to decide the fate of a town? Of a world, even. Who was she to assess Dan’s capacity to harm and destroy?
When she arrived close to the fire and was touched by its light and warmth, she finally saw him clearly.
Changed. Very.
Dan. Still.
She realized what made him look harsher – his hair was drawn back in a plait, into that rope of hair hanging down his back.
Hair didn't grow that much in the time he’d been away.
"Would you like to sit,” he said, “or did you just come to stare?" She flinched at his tone, but then he added, "I have tea, and two cups. It's not stewed."
She sat suddenly on the grass, on the opposite side of the low fire.
He remembered.
"How are you?" It was a stupid question, but had to be asked.
"Better." He poured tea into a cup she remembered so well and passed it to her.
Better than what? she wanted to ask, but she was groping through the dark here, afraid of rocks and crevasses.
"Have the governors sent you any message?" she asked, sipping. It was perfectly made tea, delicate and fresh. It made her want to laugh and cry.
"I thought perhaps you were it."
"Unlikely."
"Sometimes messages are judiciously indirect."
It was a subtle point, made with a cynicism that was strange from him.
"So?" he asked. "What's going on?"
"They've formed a committee."
His lips didn't even twitch. He might as well know the truth. "They're afraid of you, Dan. Grateful, mind, but afraid."
"That's fair. I'm afraid of myself."
Well, there was the answer to her question. She put down the cup because her hands had started to shake. "Then why do you want to come back?"
"It's my home."
"A person doesn't bring danger to their home."
"Why are you here, then?"
Truth. "A group of us -- Tom, Yas, you know -- thought we needed to find out about you. Before doing anything."
"And you drew the short straw?"
She sighed. "I was the only one willing."
He suddenly smiled, a flickering hint of the old Dan. "Ah, Jen. That's part of why I've come back."
"For your doubting friends?"
"For you."
Her heart missed a beat. "Why?"
"Do you have to ask?"
"Yes."
He looked down. "Perhaps because you commanded me to."
Coward that she was, she didn't want that burden. "Really?"
"Partly."
She realized then that he was being as painfully careful of truth as she was.
He looked back up, faced her. "I need you, Jen, to have a chance of survival."
"You have survived! The war's over. Isn't it?"
"I'm not sure wars are ever over. The repercussions rumble on and on."
"You don't need me." She meant it to be cheerful, bracing, but truth tumbled out after it. "I don't want to be needed that way, Dan."
"I don't want to need you that way. Sometimes we run out of choices."
He reached into the fire and grasped a burning brand. He lifted it, flames licking his fingers. She waiting for him to drop it, but he didn't.
"I can hold a burning brand, Jen. You can hold me."
She tossed her remaining tea over the flames. The
y hissed, but then burned on undaunted.
Burning what?
He released the brand in mid air, and it hung there as he showed her his unmarked hand. "You'll survive, too. I think."
When he'd left, a small piece of glowing wood had burned his fingers. Sharp as a knife, Jenny knew everyone was right. Dan was more dangerous than she'd ever imagined, too dangerous by far for a peaceful town.
Or for her.
"You can't force me, Dan."
"I can, in fact, but I'm trying not to." Abruptly, the brand fell back into the fire, scattering golden sparks. "I've learned many things, Jen, and one is that we do what we have to do to win." Suddenly, he lowered his head, his fingers digging into his bound hair. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put it like that. I've not talked to real people for a long time. Rusty skills...."
Oh, if he was looking for a weapon he'd found a good one. It was if she were back by the lake again, with Dan facing death, and the ashes gritty in her mind. She longed to reach out and soothe those anguished hands, but she held back. She had taken on a greater role, had accepted the responsibility of judge. And she was scared. She felt a lick of fear that might be what a hellbane victim felt, and a pull toward him that was almost as bad.
"I need you, yes," he said, with the kind of calm that takes great effort, "but there's more to it than that." He looked up, eyes densely dark in the fire's shadows. "The world needs you. Needs both of us. You say you can't. You don't have that choice. You must."
She blocked that. He was powerful, and he was wounded. He might be very dangerous indeed.
But he needed her, and she knew what she must do. "I'm yours, Dan. Forever, if you want me. I'll come with you to Hellbane U."
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Thank you for that, love, but it isn't so easy. I need the town."
The word "love" collided with the rest of it. "The town doesn't need you."
"Same argument as before. They have no choice."
"Then why are you sitting out here instead of going in?" She pointed at the closed gates. "Blow them open!"
The brand rose again without touch and began to whirl, shooting flame into the dark. She glanced at the wall. Was that damned camera recording all this? "Put that thing back before someone sees it!"