“Mr. Resnick. Mr. Dante.” He knelt down to greet us. “What might the two of you be doing outside of the wards?”
I rubbed my ear. It was ringing off the hook.
“Delivery.”
“Of?”
I handed Albright Rei’s documents, and he began flipping through the pages one at a time.
I snuck a nervous glance at Rei. If she caught us sneaking up on her…
“Relax, Mr. Resnick. She cannot see or hear us while we are within my sphere.”
“We’re under another shroud?” I asked.
Dante’s eyes were wide.
“You mean you can keep the colors? Did you tweak the second refraction or the—”
“Lieutenant, I’ll be in a better humor to answer that question after the two of you finish cleaning out all the bathrooms on campus…all the ones that are not currently rubble, of course.”
“Crud,” Dante groaned.
“Drusilla Sponges?” Albright held up Rei’s blank driver’s license and frowned. “Mr. Dante?”
“Dude, you watch too much TV,” I said, shaking my head. “What’s mine?”
“Tom Cullen,” Dante said with a grin.
Albright sighed. “I guess I should just be happy that you actually read The Stand, Mr. Dante.” He plucked the camera from his duffle coat. “I’ll deliver these documents and take care of the photo. You boys get busy shining my porcelain.”
“Yes, sir,” we grumbled.
Dante started humming after we signed back in at the gate.
“Why are you so happy?” I asked.
“Bud, we just got permission to go into all the girls’ bathrooms. Lady Luck is already handing out the love.”
I shook my head. “Dante, we need to get you a girlfriend.”
Part II
DANTE’S GIRLFRIEND,
AND/OR OTHER TRAVAILS OF WAYWARD MAGI
Chapter 9
CHARIOTS ON FIRE
An ancient Ford wagon rumbled up the road.
“Awen’s ghost,” Jules whispered. “We shoulda gone shoppin’ with him.”
A lazy set of brakes brought the white monster to a halt. The wood panels were peeling off the sides. Dante had been crooning about the damn thing all week. Vintage, he had called it. I knelt down to check the drivetrain. The sun and salt had done a number on the undercarriage, and a deep gash stretched the length of the driver’s side. The pregnant rear tire didn’t exactly instill confidence, either. Nor did the cloud of smoke billowing out the back.
“Tell me there’s a spell to fix this.” We were supposed to be a couple of high school dropouts off to try our luck in Vegas. That meant our ride had to be crappy—not deadly.
“That there isn’t, Dieter. That there isn’t.”
Smiling, Dante went to open the driver door.
It jammed halfway.
Giving up, he slid across the front seat and out the passenger side.
“Dante, this was the best you could do?” I asked.
“Bud, the engine is solid. She just needs a bit more oil than the average car.”
Jules’ giant sized Happy Planet Guide to the Big 50 by Road slipped right out of her hands.
“He’s callin’ it a she, Dieter. Why’s he callin’ it she?”
“Because he’s lonely, Jules.” I patted her on the back. “Because he’s very very lonely. But let’s not freak. We just need to get this deathtrap all the way across the United States, snatch up some ACT devices from North America’s most deadly cartel, and hand them over to the ICE without getting magic-cancer in the process. We’ve got this mission on lockdown, milady.”
Jules thumbed her glasses back into place and frowned.
“I thought I told ya ta get a haircut.”
“I’m working on a mullet. They’re big in Vegas.”
“Mages don’t wear mullets, Dieter.”
“Whoa, now, Jules. That wasn’t stipulated in Albright’s contract.”
Still jazzed about his new ride, Dante opened the back hatch and started tossing in luggage. He was just about finished when Rei trudged down the path. She was wearing her go-to ensemble of black camo pants plus hoodie, but on top of her head was a black baseball cap that read, The American Red Cross: Save A Life Today. Spotting the sorry excuse for a station wagon, Rei cocked her head to the side.
“Lieutenant, why are you loading baggage into that…jalopy?”
“Because it be our ride,” Jules replied. She didn’t look too pleased with the state of the car or the company. Gesturing to the enormous red cooler in Rei’s hands, she asked, “And what be in there, a year’s supply of Jell-O?”
“I acquired food items for our road tripping. This is a human custom, yes?”
Intrigued, Dante asked, “How did you know what to buy?”
“I bartered.”
“Sorry?”
“A young boy was perusing the morning grains aisle. I asked for his assistance in exchange for a pittance.”
Rei set down the cooler and popped the top. Inside was the most impressive arsenal of candy ever assembled by a human being. Gobstoppers, Skittles, and chocolate bars were stacked ten high. An entire box of lollipops sat proudly in the corner. Four different types of kids’ breakfast cereal. Rei pointed to one of the boxes and smiled.
“This one has a leprechaun on the front. I assume it is your feed, Druid?”
Jules looked ill.
“I’m not eating that. Dieter, tell her I’m not eatin’ that.”
Rei leaned forward and gave Jules’ belly a poke.
“Indeed…perhaps you do not require additional calories.”
Jules flushed. “That’s not what I—”
“What’s up with all the grapefruit juice?” I asked quickly. There had to be three gallons of it.
“I detest water.”
“You just brought fruit juice?” Frankly, I was a bit disappointed. “Don’t you need, like, blood?”
Rei smiled. “Isn’t that what the passengers are for?”
Jules muttered something unrepeatable in Gaelic.
Dante pulled me aside.
“Jesus, Dieter. Let her gulp all the grapefruit she wants. If it keeps her away from my throat, I’ll buy her a freakin’ juicer!”
Rei cleared her throat and frowned.
“Lieutenant, whispering behind someone’s back is rude.”
Walking over to the car, she tossed Dante the cooler.
“Load this.”
He took it in the chest and was bowled straight over. Ignoring the ensuing dust cloud, she tossed her backpack in the trunk, and slipped on a pair of latex gloves. Looking like she’d done this a few times, she began smearing a mixture of black shoe polish and grime all over the station wagon’s windows.
“Fantastic,” Jules grumbled. “There goes the view.”
I was helping Dante fit the cooler in the trunk when the rest of Lambda came running down the road from campus. Dante and I looked at one another. Monique’s team wasn’t supposed to leave until tomorrow, but they were carrying packs full of clothing and equipment.
“You guys need to get out of here,” Monique urged.
“What’s wrong?” Dante asked.
“Talmax is on the move. I just spoke with Agent Collins. DEA Command wants all hands on deck. They’ve ordered all the IKΛM squads to ship to Salt Lake this afternoon. We’ve gotta get scarce before those orders come in.”
“But aren’t we working for the DEA?” I asked.
“It’s more complicated than that. We’re working for Agent Collins. Collins agreed with Albright’s assessment and made the decision to send us in. But Agent Collins is only a section chief, Dieter. The DEA Command Council can overrule him. In fact, they did overrule him—but we don’t know about that.” Monique gave me a mischievous grin. “Hey, it’s not our fault if we weren’t here when the orders came in.”
I shook my head. That meant we had to steer clear of DEA agents now too?
Fantastic.
“Wh
at about Spinoza?”
“Spinoza is in on the plan, but he’s an ICE agent, Dieter. He can’t get involved with a regional dispute. We either give him proof that this ACT stuff is illegal, or he and his buddies are gonna be left sitting on the sidelines.”
A black van roared down the gravel road. Red anarchy signs were spray-painted across the sides. Giant horns were sticking out of the hood. Roster was at the helm. He skidded the van to a stop beside us.
“Oh, this one is nice. May we take it instead?”
“Of course we cannot take it,” Jules replied. “We’re pretendin’ ta be poor migrant workers, not rockers. Cannot ya keep that straight, Rei Acerba?”
“Ah, yes. Migrant workers.” Rei gave Jules an icy stare. “How fortunate for you, Druid. You must merely act natural.”
Not wanting any part of that fun, Dante and I went over to help Roster load the van. Our team was to head south through St. Louis, while Monique’s team was to head north through Canada. For a reason that was unclear to me, Monique and company were pretending to be a death metal band named Saber Rattle. Sheila, Roster, and Maria were dressed in the requisite leather. Monique had added little skulls and crossbones to her dreads, and Ichijo had gone for a rat-tail. Sadie had…well Sadie looked like she normally did. Her spiked hair and piercings didn’t need too many adjustments.
“Remember to set your wards every night,” Monique chided. “And, Dante, I don’t want you messing around in the Fiefs. You make one stop in St. Louis, that’s it.”
Rei looked up from her work blackening windows.
“Captain, the Treaty clearly stipulates that—“
“The Treaty guarantees right of transit, Bathory. It doesn’t say anything about xenia.” The prospect of crossing the Fiefs had left Monique on edge. Her aura was a yellow swirl of tension and anxiety. The reports coming from the front weren’t good. Our Phoenix garrison may or may not have fallen last week. There were quite a few rumors flying around that the DEA had been forced to fall back to Santa Fe. And as far as I could tell, the Department was in full panic mode. The IKΛM call up was just another sign of that.
“These three are my companions. My kin will not harm them.”
“And what of the others your kind harbors? There’s a war on, Bathory, and all the supernatural creeps know it. Attacks are up all over the West. Dante, you stop at the embassy or you don’t stop at all.” Monique took a step towards Rei. “And I’ll have you swear to that generous offer of xenia you just made.” Xenia was the Greek word for hospitality. The old myths said that Zeus and Apollo used to cruise around as travelers to enforce it. What this had to do with Rei, I had no idea. All I knew for certain was that Rei took her oaths very seriously. In fact, her very first piece of advice to me was to never make one.
“You’d demand an oath of me?”
“You said they would be fine, Bathory.” Monique crossed her arms. “Is there something to be concerned about?”
“Captain…” Ichijo whispered. He actually looked concerned.
Rei bared every last inch of ivory.
Monique didn’t budge.
“Bitch, you will back that shit down or I will shove it further up your bony white ass.”
Rei let out some sort of hiss (which made things just plain awkward).
Maria squeaked and hid behind Sheila.
Dante looked like he was about to bolt.
Monique simply shook her head. “Rei Acerba, you’re sitting this one out.”
“Fine!” Rei shouted. When she spoke again, her voice was pure venom. “I shall not let a single one of your sheep slip into the dark. Not a single one of their hairs shall be harmed. Now may we be off before I incinerate?”
Monique nodded.
Rei jammed on her sunglasses, and without another word, she got in the station wagon and slammed the door. The whole car shook back and forth on its springs. Roster let loose a nervous laugh. Sadie made busy staring at the dirt. The whole exchange made our goodbyes awkward. It felt like the whole adventure was on shaky ground.
“It’s scary, isn’t it?” Jules whispered. “We might not see everyone again.”
“You shouldn’t say stuff like that.”
Irked, I headed over to the car. Jules might be right, but I didn’t like dwelling on it. By the time I sat down next to her in the back, Rei had pulled down her hood, wrapped her arms around her legs, and capped her ears with a giant pair of noise canceling headphones. I went to pat her on the shoulder, but she knocked my arm away.
“Does she stay like that all day?” Jules asked from the front seat.
“Well, as long as you don’t poke her,“ I started.
“I shall not bite anything off,” Rei finished.
“I do love mornings,” Jules said cheerily. “And this one looks like it’ll be so bright and sunny. Not a cloud in the sky.”
As Rei muttered a curse, Dante slammed his head against the horn.
“Come on, guys. We have a long trip ahead of us. Let’s start thinking positive—I’d like to thank our supply officer for providing us with fine vittles to munch on, and our music officer for getting us such a big supply of…Jules, what are they called?”
“Tracks of eight. The dean gave me a whole box of ‘em.” She lifted up a gigantic block of plastic. “He said we should start with this one. It is called, Never Mind the Bollocks, Here Come the Sex Pistols.” Jules giggled. “Sounds naughty.”
“Alright, there are only two rules on board this vessel: no fighting and no listening to National Public Radio. Dieter is in charge of passing me skittles. Jules is in charge of the map. Rei will take over driving duty at night. If we keep rolling, we can do this in three days. Now, onward to adventure!”
“Would you stop prattling?” Rei pleaded.
“Looks like someone is having a bad case of the mornings.”
With a shrug, Dante throttled up the engine and threw it into gear. The car gave a lurch and a towering puff of smoke shot out the back.
“She’ll hold together,” he said giving the dash a loving pat.
Jules turned to me, her eyes full of concern.
“Dieter, he’s doing it again.”
+
Finding the highway, Dante drove us straight down the coast. We past a bunch of old towns named after ports and forts, and I got to watch the sun rise over the ocean. Then we swung inland to catch Interstate 70, and the view got ugly fast. Pipes spewing coal dust turned the skies a disheartening yellow. The scent of ammonia became so strong that we had to roll up the windows. The smell was the byproduct of coal gasification. With so little petroleum reaching our shores, we had turned to making liquid fuel from our vast stores of solid coal. The process turned everything around it to poison.
Our first stop was in Newark for some of that very fuel. That was when Dante discovered the bluegrass 8-tracks. As we drove west across Pennsylvania, Dante gave Jules and I a music seminar. There was a lot of talk about chords and progressions, and frankly, he kinda lost me. Jules and Dante spent the next few hours talking about mixing different kinds of folk music. (At some point they even declared they’d start a band.) I twiddled my thumbs in the back, and Rei went stiff as a board somewhere around Pittsburgh. I spent my time wondering about the biology behind it. Her frozen posture gave a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘morning wood’.
It was already past lunchtime when we stopped in Columbus. Big White was burning through petrol faster than a pothead through Cheetos, so I decided to check under the hood just to make sure she wasn’t leaking. St. Louis was gonna take another six hours, so Dante ran across the street to get us some fried chicken to go. Snow was coming down in lazy swirls, but the road was still clear for driving.
Coming out from under the car, I adjusted the laces on my work boots. I was wearing a t-shirt, two wool sweaters, and the bomber jacket Jules had picked out for me, but I was still freakin’ freezing. Jules…well, Jules looked like the bargain hunter she was. She was wearing that beautiful white motorcycle jacket
over a baggy teal dress that might have been cut from a set of drapes. Unfazed, she had decided to tie the outfit together with an enormous white scarf featuring puppies leaping through rainbows.
“Gosh, Dieter, I wish we could do a wee bit more tourin’.” Jules let out a sigh that fogged her glasses. “It says here that Columbus has a park full of impressionist paintings come ta life.”
I took a peek at her giant guidebook.
“Hey, the Chemical Abstracts Service is based here too. I’d totally love to see that.”
“Who are the Chemical Abstractors?”
“No, the Chemical Abstracts Service. It’s a division of the American Chemical Society.”
Jules gave me a blank stare.
“They manage something called the CAS Registry. The Registry is a huge database covering millions of different chemical compounds. Not only that, but it’s collated, cross-linked, and free for use by all. It might not sound sexy, but it’s like the bedrock of all science.”
“Oh!” Jules brightened. “Ya mean it’s like Culpeper’s Color Herbal.”
I fought the urge to rage.
“If Culpeper’s was also a hundred million pages long, that comparison might be close to valid.”
“Don’t get all riled, Dieter. I’ve worked with plenty a’ chemicals. I usta mix bakin’ soda and vinegar with me gran and everythin’. It’s not like ya got some sorta monopoly on the sciences.”
“Baking soda and vinegar?” I sank onto the hood in despair. “I cannot believe you and Robert Boyle were born on the same rock.”
“Me neither. Boyle sucked major balls. Now Sir Isaac? That man could transmute gold by the bucketful. Hate ta compliment a Sassenach, but he was a great one. Pity they banned the practice.”
I pretended that I hadn’t heard that. An alternate world full of magic, I could handle. A world where my childhood heroes dabbled in alchemy, not so much.
“Guys! Real fried food!” Dante shouted. He was running back across the street with a steaming bucket of arterial destruction. “Oh man, expense accounts are the best!”
Zero Sum Page 14