Sword

by JC Andrijeski

  Without another word he turned, walking back in the direction of the elevator.

  Jon watched him go, still fighting to find words as the tall seer bent down, tapping the button to summon the elevator car back to the highest floor. Someone must have sent it back up, since the doors pinged immediately and opened.

  Jon was still standing there when they closed behind him, and Revik disappeared.

  6

  POWERLESS

  IT TOOK JON a few minutes to collect himself after the seer left.

  He stared at the bills in his hands. They weren’t Indian rupees or even dollars, but euros, and in high denominations. Blinking at the stack gripped in the remaining three fingers of his mutilated hand, he found himself counting them in spite of himself.

  Revik had just handed him a small fortune.

  Staring at what he held in his hand combined with the conversation he’d just had with the seer, he felt light-headed. Allie always joked before about how cheap Revik was. It was one of those things about him she seemed to find funny.

  After experiencing Revik firsthand, Jon found himself reluctant to go to her. He wasn’t sure what he’d find on the other side of that door, but doubted she’d be a shining ball of joy and light, no matter what just happened between them.

  Eventually enough time passed that he felt compelled to act.

  She might need him right now.

  Hesitating at the door a second longer, he reached out with his good hand, and knocked. When he didn’t hear anything inside after a few beats, he knocked again.

  After he’d knocked the third time, he started to get worried.

  He raised his hand again––

  When the door opened, all at once.

  He found himself facing Allie.

  She looked pale. Blinking against the corridor lights, she held the top of her dress up to one shoulder, her arm across her chest. Her hair, which looked like something out of a fashion magazine earlier that night, now hung around her shoulders, the jeweled clips stuck in awkward chunks of curls, lower down and bunched more on one side of her head.

  Jon couldn’t help glimpsing bruises on her neck and arms and the top of her breasts, what looked like teeth marks on her shoulder.

  She looked like she’d been in a fight.

  “Jesus, Al,” he muttered, looking away.

  He flipped his tuxedo jacket off his shoulders, handing it to her as she backed into the room. She released the door, leaving it open for him to follow. Closing it behind them, Jon watched her put on the jacket once her back was to him.

  “Did he force you?” he said, his voice thick.

  She grunted, pulling what looked like an expensive bottle of champagne out of a silver ice bucket. Jon watched her glance at the label, then take a long drink.

  He waved her off when she offered him some.

  “Not exactly,” she said, lowering the bottle.

  “Not exactly? What the hell does that mean?”

  She’d been looking out the window at the skyline, but now she glanced over her shoulder at him, her mouth hard.

  “It means no, Jon. He didn’t force me. He asked. I said yes. Happy?”

  Jon frowned, glancing around the dim room.

  A fire in the fireplace had burned down, making the lights from the city below stand out against the night sky. He walked towards the windows in spite of himself, looking out over a view of the newer part of New Delhi, and the gardens winding below glass-covered skyscrapers with their oddly jutting balconies on the higher floors.

  Further away, pollution blurred the outline of a far denser skyline crowded with buildings and car lights. While not the oldest part of Delhi, that jagged piece of sky belonged to the original business district, before the more organic-looking additions of the last decade or so.

  He looked back at his adoptive sister, and found her sitting on the cowhide sofa, her legs crossed, wrapped in his tuxedo jacket. Despite how much she’d grown in the past year, she looked small to him, like a kid in her father’s clothes.

  “I saw him,” Jon said. “Revik.”

  She glanced up at him. At the look in his eyes, she frowned. Then she gestured fluidly with one hand, seer-fashion, indicating his body up and down.

  “Well,” she said. “You’re still here.”

  “He was… talkative.”

  She nodded, her eyes growing dull. “Yeah.”

  He hesitated, fingering the money in his pocket, and decided it could wait. Given Allie’s demeanor right then, she might not take it the right way. He didn’t much care about making Revik look bad––at least, not the Revik he’d just spoken to in the hotel corridor––but he couldn’t handle the look that might come to her face if he tried to explain to her where he got it.

  For the same reason, he decided the “message” he’d been asked to deliver could wait, too.

  “He’s sending up clothes,” Jon said, when she didn’t speak. “He told me where you were.”

  She nodded again, not looking up.

  Jon noticed the cracked mirror then, and a broken lamp not far from the couch. He considered asking about those too, then didn’t.

  Sighing, he walked to her, slumping down on the couch beside her.

  “Al.” He took her hand. “Are you all right?”

  She gave a short laugh, retracting her hand from his. “Jesus, Jon.” Resting the champagne bottle on her mostly-bare thigh, she looked at him, her voice bitter. “What the hell do you think?”

  Jon shrugged. His jaw hardened though.

  A beat later, she exhaled, shaking her head.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry, Jon. I’m not…” She exhaled sharply. “I’m not feeling myself, I guess. I’ll be better in a minute. Promise.”

  She ran her fingers through her hair, got them caught on one of the jeweled combs and turned her head to look at it. Pausing to untangle the metal teeth, she dragged it out of her dark curls and more of the pile fell down. It startled him, just how long her hair had gotten. He noticed her make up was smeared too, not to mention whatever happened to the dress.

  “It’s been a hell of a night,” she agreed, as if hearing him.

  He still forgot sometimes, that she was like them.

  He laid a hand on her leg, hesitating in spite of himself as he remembered the male seer’s words. His jaw firming, he left it there anyway.

  “I saw him,” he repeated. “I… talked to him.” She turned, and he met her gaze. “I get it now, Al. What you were trying to tell me before.”

  For a long moment, she just looked at him.

  He saw her face open slightly, enough that he glimpsed the grief underneath. It occurred to him for the first time that she was barely holding it together.

  Worse than that, she was ashamed.

  Her eyes closed, longer than a blink.

  She lifted the bottle and took another long swallow of the champagne, tilting her head back. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand when she finished, and he noticed her knuckles were bruised.

  Seeing his eyes on her hand, she shrugged. “I punched him.”

  Jon nodded. “Yeah. I figured.”

  “Don’t remember why,” she muttered. “The D.C. thing.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  She smiled, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “I don’t see how.”

  “Allie,” he said. He hesitated, then said it anyway. “Allie, what do you think he’s doing here, in Delhi?”

  She held up a hand, letting it drop to the couch. “I have no friggin’ idea.”

  “He wanted us to stay here,” Jon said. At her blank look, he clarified, “In this room. He didn’t come out and say it, but he didn’t want you to leave, at least not any time soon. I think the clothes were an excuse, honestly.” He hesitated. “Do you think he could have wrecked them on purpose? The dress, I mean. To keep you here.”

  She looked over at him, eyes sharp. “What did he say?”

  “Nothing. Exactly.” J
on deliberately didn’t think about their earlier conversation. “It was more a feeling. He made some comment about wanting me to wait up here with you, for the clothes he was sending up. He said he didn’t want you wandering around like this.”

  He motioned towards her dress.

  “I know he’s possessive, Allie.” He swallowed, biting back what he would have liked to say. “…but it felt like there was more to it.”

  He found himself glad he’d said it when her eyes clicked back into focus.

  She looked almost like her old self again––if a bit on the predatory side. Even that had to be an improvement though. Given everything, it certainly couldn’t hurt.

  “Where’s Balidor?” she said.

  Still looking at her, Jon nodded, almost to himself.

  “Looking for you,” he said. “Downstairs, last I knew. They were sending out two teams, with three seers jumping into the Barrier and monitoring the construct to coordinate. He assumed Revik took you somewhere. Offsite, I mean.”

  She gave him a measured look.

  “Yet you came up here?” she said.

  “Well.” Jon shrugged. “Yeah. I guess I did. Revik said he ‘called’ me.”

  “You felt that? Him pinging you?”

  “No.” Seeing her eyes sharpen, he shrugged. “I don’t know, Al.”

  For a second, she only looked at him. Then she nodded again.

  Getting to her feet, she held out a hand.

  It took her mouth pursing into a frown for him to realize she was asking for his headset link. He’d forgotten it until that moment, but pulled it readily off his ear, handing it to her. He watched her fit it to her own head, saw her eyes fall out of focus as she slid into the Barrier.

  “Balidor?” she said. “Yeah, it’s me.” A pause. “Nope. In the hotel. Upstairs.” She glanced at Jon. “No. He’s gone. He’s probably left the building by now.”

  Jon saw her eyes tighten.

  Then they grew annoyed.

  “I’m fine.” Her mouth firmed. “I’m fine, ‘Dor. Listen, can you focus? Jon thinks he’s up to something.” Another pause. “Yeah, he’s here. He found me after Revik pinged him.” She glanced at Jon, her green eyes glowing faintly in the firelight. “What do I think? I think he’s probably right. Jon’s usually dead on with things like this. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

  Smiling faintly at Jon, she paused again.

  “Yeah, he talked to him.” Still holding Jon’s eyes, she let her smile grow wan. “I have no idea, but it must have been bad, because he won’t think about it at all around me.”

  Jon shook his head, smiling in spite of himself.

  “Yeah, we’re coming down.”

  Jon motioned at her in the negative, but she waved him off.

  “Yes,” she said, firm. “Now. Meet me by the service elevator.”

  “Allie,” Jon said. “No!”

  She’d already switched off the headset, and was pulling it off her ear. She handed it back to him, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

  “You thought I would stay, just because Revik said so?” she said.

  Jon felt his patience ebbing. “I think he’s psychotic, Al, but he still loves you. If he told you to stay, there’s probably a damned good reason.”

  Her eyes grew cold. “Don’t, Jon.”

  “Don’t what?” Frowning, he stared up at her, incredulous. “Don’t point out that he can be crazy and still want to keep you alive?”

  “No,” she said. “Don’t act like you and he are still pals. I mean it.”

  “You slept with him.” Jon gestured at her in the dress, annoyed. “Don’t tell me I’m the one letting things blur. Besides, he gave me the worm speech, never fear.”

  That time she didn’t answer.

  Seeing the hard look coming to her face, he regretted his words.

  He was still watching her when a distant rumble of vibration trembled the floor beneath their feet. He thought he’d imagined it at first, but when he looked out the bay window, he saw the skyline vibrate enough to blur the image.

  Allie’s eyes darted to his. Her skin paled to chalk under the bruise on her neck.

  Understanding bled rapidly into her expression.

  “Christ,” she said.

  Jon opened his mouth, but she’d already snatched the headset back from his fingers. Putting it on, she flipped back into the virtual network.

  “Balidor?” Reaching down, she grabbed Jon’s arm, dragging him towards the suite’s main door with her. “Balidor! Answer me! What just happened?”

  Jon followed as she entered the outside corridor, walking fast towards the elevator. The lights looked hospital bright after the darkness of the penthouse suite, but he could still see the skyline through the long window on the outside wall.

  “Balidor!” she snapped. She waited another beat. “Goddamn it.” She must have hit through more channels. “Chandre? Cass! Dorje? Is anyone there?”

  They’d just rounded the bend in the corridor that led to the service elevator.

  She’d fallen silent, but Jon could almost feel her trying to reach people through the Barrier. He let her tug him along by the wrist. Looking down, he noticed she was barefoot.

  When they stopped in front of the elevators and she hit the button to summon it, he looked out the floor-length window directly across from them. He realized he was listening with all of his might, tensing for more vibration as they waited for the elevator to reach the top floor.

  He stared at the column of smoke for a full minute before he realized what he was seeing.

  Hearing him, Allie turned and sucked in a breath.

  Her fingers tightened on him hard enough to hurt.

  He felt pain in her, what might even have been physical, and when he looked at her, she had an arm across her stomach, as if holding something inside. She hunched over, looking like someone whose appendix had just burst.

  “Al!” He caught her arm. “Jesus, Al! Are you all right? What is it?”

  “Goddamn it.”

  Tears welled in her eyes when she looked up at him.

  “Goddamn it. That son of a bitch. And I let him. Hell.” She let out a choked laugh. “I barely argued with him. No wonder he thinks…”

  Biting her lip, she fell silent.

  The look of desperation on her face hit him like a punch to the gut.

  “Al.” Gripping her tighter, he pulled her closer, trying to get her to meet his gaze. “Al. Listen to me. It’s not your fault. Whatever he did. It’s not your fault.”

  “I led them here.” Her mouth firmed as she stared up at Jon. “I should have known he’d come. I made it so fucking easy for him. Gods. I might as well have rung the fucking dinner bell. Sent him a damned invitation––”

  “No. Allie. That makes no sense. You didn’t do this!”

  She let out another choking sound, looking away.

  For an instant, she looked like she wanted to say more, but didn’t.

  There was a click overhead. The sprinkler system went off, sending water down on them in curved sheets of drops.

  For a few seconds they just stood there. Jon hovered over her, holding her arm while she held her stomach, the falling water drenching them both to the skin. When she finally looked up, her eyes were hard again, determined.

  “The stairs,” she said.

  Without another word, she wrenched her arm free of his hand, walking past him and back down the hall. Hesitating only another heartbeat, he followed her.

  When he caught up to her, she was trying the handle to a heavy fire door labeled EMERGENCY in large, red letters.

  It was locked.

  He was about to tell her they should try the roof, when she laid a hand over the combination lock to the right of the panel. He flinched when a screech of metal assaulted his ears, loud over the sound of the falling water from the ceiling nozzles.

  Smoke erupted in a small puff from where the door met the frame. It dissipated quickly in the deluge from the sprinklers, so
that Jon doubted whether he’d seen it at all.

  Then she looked up. Her eyes blazed at him, glowing a vivid, light green. They reminded him of glow sticks, or the iridescent bands of color he’d seen on some aquarium fish. He fought with unreality, seeing those shimmering irises staring out of his sister’s face.

  He glanced at the mangled panel housing the locking mechanism.

  “Since when can you do that?” he said.

  “Don’t fuck with me right now, Jon!”

  He swallowed, holding up his hands. “Okay. Great.”

  She laid her hand on the door handle, then withdrew it sharply, as if the metal burnt her fingers. Using the sleeve of his tuxedo jacket, she wound her hand back around it and yanked open the door. Jon followed her, glancing at the melted keys as he passed. Scorch marks flared on either side of the panel.

  He didn’t look for long.

  Gripping the handrail, he followed her down the gray-painted stairwell.

  Barefoot, she pattered down stairs in front of him in the tattered dress, dripping water in her wake. Her hair was down entirely now. Somewhere along the way, she’d lost the last of the jeweled clips.

  A dozen floors later, he felt like he’d been in that stairwell forever. Their descent grew into a mindless trudging down steep steps; he had to jerk his attention back to his feet periodically, just to keep himself from falling.

  He first smelled smoke at around the twentieth-eighth floor.

  By the fifteenth, the air appeared denser, although he still hadn’t seen any fire.

  They reached the landing of the fifth floor when he caught up to her again, grabbing her arm before she reached for the next flight of stairs. Her face was flushed, damp with a sheen of sweat, both from the heat shimmering up from below and her vaulting down the stairwell at a near run. Her hair looked almost dry again.

  When she looked up, her expression held nothing but impatience.

  “Al! We can’t get out anywhere down here.” He pointed at the door. “You open that, and this whole stairwell will become a wind tunnel. It’ll shoot fire up about twenty stories.”