Monique came running up as the medics loaded Sadie onto a gurney.
“What the hell happened here?” she demanded.
Rei looked off to the distance and shrugged.
“Damn it, Bathory. What the hell did you do?”
I backed away from Monique. Her pent up frustration was frothing over—and bad vibes were more than just an inconvenience around here. Monique was a top-tier witch. You didn’t want to piss someone like her off. What we needed to do was—
“Pardon me?” Rei asked.
My posture sagged. Rei was glaring right back at Monique, and something told me she didn’t plan on backing down. Cursing, I wondered how the heck I managed to end up between the two of them. A disconcerting wave of psychic energy swept past me. I recognized the sensation. Was Monique out of her freaking mind?
“Captain, did you just attempt to compel me?” Rei asked coolly. “I will not be compelled.”
“You’re one to talk,” I muttered under my breath.
“And if I were to be—it would most certainly not be by the likes of you.”
“What do you mean by that, Bathory?” Monique growled.
“I mean,” Rei said, gesturing around her, “that when I entered this disgusting, bat dung-encrusted cavern, over half our squad was disabled. I asked the pint-sized Druid in the atrocious t-shirt what had happened. She informed me that you allowed a single hunter to disable our colleagues one-by-one.”
“And?” Monique asked. She was seething. I could sense her Ki gathering for a strike.
“Um, ladies? Can we perhaps—”
“And?” The color had drained from Rei’s face. She stood, her hands clenched at her sides. “You are standing here uninjured, captain. That is the ‘and’. You are a disgrace. If Lucas were still alive, he would have—”
“Don’t you dare speak that name, you…beast.”
Rei smiled. “I know quite well what I am, captain. But what are you?” She cocked her head and took a step forward. “You certainly talk a great deal. Perhaps you are a performer of sorts. We have a lovely black woman in Chicago who has made quite the living—”
I sensed the rush of mana fast enough to hit the deck. I grimaced as my shoulder struck the concrete, but I didn’t regret the pain in the slightest. An unrefined black cloud of purple energy blasted over my head. It caught Rei square in the chest. She flew backwards, crashing through one, two—check that—three false walls. A twinge of pain danced across my chest. It felt like all my ribs had been tickled. The weft-link appeared to be working.
Rei stood and dusted herself off. When she glanced up, her blue eyes had faded to a sliver grey.
“Oh, fuck,” I muttered, and tried to scramble away.
“That was not very polite, captain. If I have read the rule book correctly, I am not allowed to strike a ‘superior’ officer—even if she strikes me unprovoked.”
Still painted to the floor, I pleaded, “Um, ladies, can we chill out a bit? We need to go check on Sadie, and Roster, and Sheila, and—”
“Shut it, Dieter,” Monique snarled. “Permission granted, Bathory. Bring it.”
Rei smiled, and that fuzzy whiteness danced across her flesh. “Right, then,” she hissed. Grabbing a large section of collapsed wall, she flung it at Monique.
I scrambled out of the way as Monique screamed, “Divertus!” and smashed the 8-foot tall chunk of plaster to bits. A haze of particulate spread through the air.
“Captain, I fail to see the point of doing that,” said Rei’s voice from a new point in the cloud. “Now you can’t even see me.”
Monique twisted in the direction of Rei’s voice and called out, “Ventos!” blasting another section of the course to bits. Rei’s reply came in the form of another giant slab of plaster that came careening out of the sky. I scrambled away. Rei wasn’t attempting to tear Monique’s head off, so I assumed it wasn’t that serious. I’d let the divas dance if they wanted to. There wasn’t much I could do to stop them anyway.
Stumbling out of the debris cloud, I ran smack into Jules.
“What the hell did ya do?” she asked in exasperation. “I mean, I only left ya alone for thirty minutes and—”
“Not me, boss!” I gasped, coughing up some drywall. “Monique. Rei. Schoolhouse-rumble.”
“Oi,” Jules said, face-palming. “For the love of the spirit, what for?”
I dusted myself off. “Street cred, yo. Street cred.”
Another barrage of explosions and dust erupted from what was left from the course. In the distance, Monique screamed, “Bitch!” and crashed through a wall.
“More importantly, did you see Sadie?”
“That I did. They’re rushin’ her to the infirmary. She’s stable, but those burns were serious. What the heck happened?”
“She was playing with plasma.”
Exasperated, Jules plopped down on a cot and buried her head in her hands.
I joined her.
His head in a bun, Ichijo Fukimura sat down next to us.
“Hey, Ichijo,” we said simultaneously.
He nodded and gestured toward the dust cloud. “Monique and Rei?”
“Yup,” we said.
“Dieter,” Ichijo mused, “do you know the two types of fights?”
“Sure, Ichijo—fights to protect your hide and fights to protect your pride.”
“This one, what type of fight is it?”
Jules and I looked at one another. “Pride.”
He nodded. “I guessed the same. Bathory-hime has not torn the captain’s head off yet.”
We nodded.
“Coffee?” I asked.
They nodded.
We headed over to the stairs, but for some inexplicable reason, I sensed I needed to wait. Rei burst out of the dust cloud seconds later. She was covered from head-to-toe in white plaster.
“Sup, kumpadre?” I asked.
“Black, one sugar, please,” she requested.
I nodded.
“Bitch!” Monique screamed from inside the dust cloud. “Where are you, bitch?!”
Rei cupped her hands and yelled back, “Behind you, you fille de joie!” Giggling, she darted off.
The three of us resumed our walk to the elevator.
“Jules, what’s a fille de joie?”
“It be French for whore, Dieter.”
“Nice. How do you say that in Gaelic?”
Jules sighed. “That does it. I want a new apprentice.”
Chapter 5
SHOP TILL YOU DROP
“Dieter, wake up.”
“No.”
“Come on, Dieter. It’s Saturday.”
“Wake me up Sunday.”
“But it’s time ta shop till we drop.”
“Can we skip to the ‘drop’ part?”
“No. No we cannot. Awaken, I command thee!”
The witch had come prepared. Icy water surged down my back. I fell off my cot trying to get away.
“Curse you, wench. Don’t shake the apprentice’s cage.” I fumbled for my toothbrush. “What time is it?”
“Shopping time! Oh, ya mean the actual time? It be nine in the morning. Stores open at ten.”
Grumbling, I went to find the restroom. The lights were still out, so I banged into two cots on the way. Dante growled at me. I considered retreating, but Jules threatened me with the curse-of-a-thousand-tickles if I went back to sleep.
“Stupid bat cave.” I muttered.
One squeaked above my head.
Disgruntled, I hopped in the shower and washed up. I even went so far as to shave. Looking at my body in the mirror, I was happy to see it looked like I’d only been in a street fight (rather than locked in mortal combat with a bear). Strange. Just yesterday I was a limping mess. Now the cuts to my hands and face were barely visible. I touched the black and blue bruise on my cheek. It didn’t even hurt. The medic was right. I was healing kinda fast. Not that I wanted to know why…
Leaving the bathroom, I followed the wall till I
found the elevator. They’d finally fixed it last night. I leaned back against the wall and enjoyed the Kenny G jam session. Going shopping was probably a good idea. One pair of jeans, one shirt, and twelve pairs of socks could only get you so far.
The elevator dinged, the doors slid open, and a burst of morning sunlight greeted me. A wave of nausea took me. The swelling might be getting better, but last night’s skull-check had given me an artificial hangover. Rubbing my eyes, I stumbled out into the lobby.
“Ready to go?” Jules asked.
“Yea.” Actually, I was kinda ready to puke. “Just give my eyes a second to…” Looking up, I blinked twice. She was wearing a dark-blue pleated skirt with a matching blue scarf. A pair of rockin’ white knee-highs finished off the bottom. I squinted through the cursed rays. Who was this person?
“Jules?”
“Yup?”
“Um…” Where’d her glasses go? “Where’s everyone else?”
“Ichijo said he'd already ordered his clothes online. He’s goin’ ta hike Sleeping Giant instead. And Maria’s mom is in New York for the weekend. Albright gave her permission ta visit her.” She shrugged. “Everyone else is bajanxed.”
“But what about Monique? It was only some hair.”
“Only?” Jules caressed her own recently brushed curls. “Dieter, Rei scalped her.”
“Technically, Rei shaved her. Scalping involves removing—”
“Monique doesn’t want ta go, Dieter. She says it’s too embarrassin’.”
Women.
“Alright, then it’s just the two of us, I guess.”
Jules smiled. “Yep!”
+
As we passed by Rei’s cabin, Cumo gave us a token bark.
I waved back, but he just curled up into a ball and went back to sleep.
“Stupid cotton ball already forgot the hand that fed him,” I grumbled.
“You’re feeding Rei’s sheepdog now, are ya?”
“Na, just that time I spent the night.” I smiled. “He was…”
Jules stomped off ahead.
“Yo, slow down,” I said, hustling after her.
Jules huffed.
“Hey, would it be possible to just enjoy our one free day outside this penitentiary?”
“Fine. But I’ve had my fill of Ms. Fangtastic. We’ll be leavin’ that topic behind as well.”
Rei was probably stiff as a board. I doubted she’d mind. “Fine, no Rei talk.” I stabbed my fist into the air. “From the wreckage of Lambda we thunder on. Jules and Dieter, onward, ho!”
I managed to draw a smirk out of her, but not much else. I scratched my head. Man, everyone was so uptight. And it was so irrational too. A multinational conglomerate was trying to snuff us out, and Jules was more worried about Rei sinking her fangs into me. I shook my head. This school really needed a class in threat assessment.
At the gate, we handed our day passes to the men from the DEA. Reminding us of the 11PM curfew, they gave us the usual ‘watch out for the homicidal maniacs’ spiel, and sent us on our way. I shook my head. Other than the cool trench coats, I didn’t get why anyone would want to join the DEA. On the train, Jules described her plan: 1) Take train into New Haven. 2) Walk to Chapel Street. 3) Shop. 4) The End. I agreed to the shopping—but managed to negotiate a stop at Patricia’s for breakfast. The New Haven is Heaven brochure I snagged at the train station claimed that they had the best pancakes in town.
“I swear, Dieter, you are comprised of 80% pancakes and 20% coffee.”
“So what? Is there something wrong with those percentages, cabbage brains?”
“At least cabbage has vitamins.”
“Fine, I’ll get blueberry and banana pancakes this time. Happy now?”
Jules looked at me with sudden interest. “They have those sorta cakes?”
“Aye. This is America, Jules. We have everything.”
Jules delivered a direct hit to my wounded kidney.
I rubbed my side. The girls of Elliot were a tad abusive.
+
An hour later, we stumbled out of Patricia’s Restaurant.
“Can’t breathe. Too fat,” Jules said, clutching her belly.
“Congratulations! You’re finally speaking American.”
I patted my own oversized gut. The weather was good for the end of October. The sun was out, and none of the usual icy wind was blowing. I pulled out my copy of New Haven is Heaven and looked for my next objective. I looked up to find Jules leaning against a lamppost.
“Hey, it’s nice out today, and there’s a cool park nearby. Let’s go visit. You can lay down and digest before the shop-fest.”
Jules nodded and wobbled after me.
Following the map’s directions, I headed up York Street. It was hard to miss.
“Tada.” I said. “Here we are!”
Jules frowned. “Dieter, this is not a park. This is a cemetery.”
I raised a finger. “Not just any cemetery, Jules. This here is the oldest chartered cemetery in the whole U. S. of A.”
“The oldest ‘chartered’ cemetery? What does that mean, exactly?”
“No idea. Let’s check it out.”
“Unbelievable. Yer carrying all the bags, Dieter, all of them.”
We wandered in past a guard who merely nodded as we passed. Family plots of all shapes and sizes stretched out before us. Some of the markers were monstrous, others more humble. Massive trees canopied the grass, each with plenty of space to spread their arms.
“Okay, I’m gonna have ta issue a retraction, Dieter. Nice find.”
Folks from all walks of life wandered up and down the lanes. It was trippy to see non-magically inclined people again. They were doing all sorts of non-magical business too: taking photos, walking dogs, reading novels, painting landscapes, playing tag. We passed a couple snuggled under a blanket. The man snoozed. The woman enjoyed a book. I envied them. They looked happy—and happy they should be. They weren’t being hunted by magical hitmen from Mexico.
I traced the path to the very center of the cemetery, Jules trailing lazily behind me. The tombstones were older here. They looked like droopy ice cream cones melting in the sun. One particular tree caught my eye. “Wow,” I said pointing, “let’s sit under that one.” The leaves on the tree were fire engine red. Its huge arms reached out over the rows of tombstones like a mother cradling her children. I had never seen a tree like it. (Granted, my tree knowledge was rather limited.)
Taking a spot on the grass, we took in the scene.
“I can’t get over seeing real people again.”
Jules pushed a wayward lock behind her ear. It shimmered like gold in the late morning rays. “You mean the Imperiti?”
I nodded. “Not that I don’t enjoy your company.”
“Dieter…what’s it like ta be one of ‘em?”
“What do you mean?”
“I grew up amongst practitioners. The Imperiti have always been a ‘they’ ta me.”
“Wait, let me get this straight, you want to know what it’s like to be normal?”
She nodded, and her eyes carried an uneasiness with which I couldn’t quite relate.
I leaned back against the tree’s massive trunk to think. Jules might have only been a year older than me, but she was my teacher. She was the taskmaster waiting outside after class. The little blond terror that ordered me about. The person who set my goalposts and reproached my mistakes. She was Jules Nelson, Adept Magus, the youngest student granted that title in a generation. It had never occurred to me that she might have questions. But everything felt different today. The way she dressed. The way she talked. Most importantly, the way she carried herself…Jules wasn’t a mage today.
I mussed my hair in frustration. “Gosh, Jules, I don’t think I can give you a good comparison. Besides, I don’t think my childhood was what you would call normal.”
A warm smile stretched across her rosy cheeks. “That’s fine, Dieter. Tell me anyway.”
And I wanted to.
“Yer entire life feels like one big, fat, inside joke,” Jules finished.
I raised an eyebrow. “Yea.”
Jules arched her back and looked up at the tree. “Dieter, do ya know what kind of tree this is?”
“Not cactus.”
Jules ran a hand through her curls.
“In yer tongue it’s called a great oak, in mine, it’s called a Daur.”
“Daur?”
“Aye. Daur means the ‘door ta the other side.’ For us Dru, the great oak represents the gateway ta the places beyond. For centuries, my kin, my blood, has probed into the Daur ta pierce beyond the present.”
I scratched my head. I had always considered Jules a bright girl, but this was crazy talk. I tried to put it as gently as I could. “With respect, Jules, that’s impossible. I can accept that magic exists, but we’re still bound by the flow of time.”
“Yer misunderstandin’, Dieter. Look at this tree. Above her trunk stretch a thousand branches. Below her trunk sleep a thousand roots. It’s her form that matters; she’s analogous ta the flow of time. Do you understand what I mean?”
“Maybe…” I tried to parse her words. “Are you saying that the here-and-now is derived from one of many possible pasts, that the present is only possible because certain criteria were met, and so the future, our particular future, will form based on the same principles? In other words, our future will be one possible future out of many many thousands?”
Zero Sum Page 7