by Ramsey Isler
“Can you pull things out of it?” Newton asked.
I nodded, and reached back into the Rift, right at the spot in mid-air where I’d left the voltmeter. My fingers grasped its hard rectangular form, which I could still feel even though the device was on the other side of the Rift. I focused my mind on the spell I needed and I pulled. The voltmeter popped back into existence in the visible world. Its plastic body was a little cold, but the heat of my hand warmed it up quickly.
“The stuff I put over there generally stays exactly where I put it. But after an hour or so it starts to move around.”
Newton blinked, twice. “Well . . . okay then. You are definitely what Dominique said.”
I handed the voltmeter to him. “Happy now?”
He turned the gadget over in his hands, feeling its realness. “Happy? I’m freaking ecstatic. Let’s get started.”
* * *
Newton was such a pleasure to be around that I didn’t mind it when he coaxed me into an adjustable hospital bed and plugged me into an assorted collection of monitoring devices. I only had one real complaint: the electrodes he popped onto my forehead and face. They itched like hell.
He put me through a number of tests. Some of them were mildly stressful, but for the most part it was all boring, and so many of the tests were done in the dark that I fell asleep about midway through. At some point I woke up and all the lights were back on. Newton was seated a few feet away from me, chewing on a candy bar and gazing at his tablet computer. He saw that I was awake, and smiled. There was caramel in his teeth.
“Are we done?” I asked.
“Almost,” Newton said. He ran his tongue over his teeth and cleared away the debris. “I’m running the scan results through one more computational analysis. It’ll be done in about ten minutes. In the meantime, we have one more test.” He removed the remains of his half-eaten candy bar from its wrapper and handed me the block of chocolate.
“What the hell do you want me to do with this?” I asked.
“Put that over into the Rift please,” Newton said.
“Why?”
“I’ll explain later. Just humor me.”
I didn’t bother arguing. It was simple to put something so small over there, so I did it in a flash. “Now what?” I asked.
“Wait a few seconds, then bring it back.”
I pulled the bar back out of the Rift, the chocolate a little less sticky because of the characteristic coolness of the other side. Newton grabbed the candy bar out of my hand and took a bite.
“Tastes different,” he said. “Ever noticed that before?”
“I’ve . . . uh . . . never eaten anything out of the Rift. I’m not sure you should either.”
“We’ll see about that in a second,” Newton said. He grabbed a scalpel and sliced off a tiny piece of the chocolate before taking it to a brightly lit corner with an assortment of fluids and gadgets.
“Give me a second while I prep this,” Newton said.
“Prep it for what?” I asked.
“You’ll see.”
A few minutes later, Newton took his little sample of chocolate and put it into a machine at the opposite end of the room. I recognized that gadget from my high-school science field trips. It was an electron microscope. Newton made a show of pressing buttons and twiddling knobs on the thing, and soon an image popped up on the computer screen next to the microscope.
“Well, that sure is . . . something,” Newton said. “The chocolate is different. Not by much, but it’s different.”
“And that means what?” I asked.
“Not sure yet,” Newton said. “Maybe something to do with organic compounds. Or may—”
A computer across the room let out a piercing ring and Newton seemed to abandon his thought. “Analysis complete!” he shouted as he jumped over to his tablet.
“What do we have?” I asked.
Newton tapped his tablet screen a few times then turned it over so I could see it. The screen showed a graph of some sort. “This is your brain,” Newton said. Then he pushed an on-screen button. The graph shifted dramatically.
“This is your brain on nightcrafting,” Newton said.
“That’s fascinating,” I said. “But what the hell does it mean?”
“Your brainwaves are at a very specific frequency,” Newton said. "The highest frequency the average human brain reaches on a normal day is around a hundred hertz — the top end of the gamma wave range. This range is usually prevalent during cognitive tasks that combine two different senses, or tasks like memory matching. But when you’re doing whatever it is you do, your brain wave frequency gets way above the gamma range, at precisely two hundred and fourteen hertz. And it never wavers. It’s extraordinary.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’m glad we’re getting into specifics now.”
“But wait . . . there’s more,” Newton said with a beaming smile. “Every time you slip into nightcrafting mode, there’s a low level effect in the area around you — an extremely low frequency, or ELF, electromagnetic field. Can you guess what frequency it’s at?”
“Two fourteen,” I said.
“Exactly,” Newton answered. “It’s really quite phenomenal. The frequencies are so low it would be easy to dismiss them as ambient fields from electrical equipment or something like that.”
“So what does this mean?”
“I have absolutely no idea,” Newton said. “So far, all we can get is data. I have no hypothesis for what that data means. There is no scientific explanation for what you can do. It is, for all intents and purposes, magic.”
“Well no shit,” I said. “Magic, you say? I’m so glad we went through all these tests to figure that out.”
“You’re a smart ass,” Newton said.
“You’re the smart one,” I answered. “I’m just an ass.”
Newton just nodded and tapped his tablet screen a few times before he said, “Tell me about your background. Your records show your parents are native Hawaiian.”
“Only one of my parents,” I said. “My father’s family has lived on the islands for a couple hundred years at least. My mother’s family came from Japan around eighty years ago.”
“I see,” Newton said as he furiously typed some updates. “And you grew up here in New York City?”
“Mostly. We moved from Hawaii to the Bronx when I was eleven. I spent a couple of years moving around New Jersey when my mom took a job that didn’t work out, but other than that I’ve pretty much just lived in the city.”
“And you didn’t have any remarkable events in your early childhood?”
“No,” I said.
“Any . . . strange family history? Grandfathers who were shamans or Shinto priests who healed the sick or anything like that?”
“Nothing that I’m aware of.”
“I see,” Newton said. “If that’s true it might rule out any genetic factors. Maybe we should do a historical records check on the Kai family.”
“Good luck with that,” I said. “Native Hawaiians didn’t even have last names until European and American influence started. Then at some point they just started taking on Christian names and using their Hawaiian names as last names. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are a bunch of people named Kai in the records, and not many of them would be related.”
“What about your parents?” Newton asked. “Anything strange about them? Any possible ties to Satanism or—”
“You know what,” I said. “We’re not going to talk about them. They stay out of this. You got any other questions?”
Newton finally took his attention from his tablet and looked back at me with sad eyes. “I’m sorry. I really am. I know I’m prying. It’s just part of the job. But I can tell you’re not cool with that right now so I’ll push that task back on Dominique. How about I just stick to the science stuff?”
“I think that would be best.”
“Right,” Newton said. “Let’s move on to the kinds of things you can do with magic. Does that so
und good?”
“I guess.”
“Great. Well, we’ve already covered making things disappear and reappear. And Dominique’s report clearly shows you can magically open locks. How about reanimating the dead?”
“Can’t do that,” I said.
“All right then,” Newton said as he swiped a finger along his computer screen. “That’s one to scratch off. Any experience with alchemy?”
“Nope.”
“How about sawing a woman in half? Can you do that?”
I shrugged. “I can’t, but I have no idea if more skilled nightcrafters can.”
“Okay then. Let’s . . . rethink this,” he walked over to his desk, grabbed some paper and a pen, and placed them in front of me. “Write down everything you do know how to do.”
I wrote down the effects of all the spells I could think of. When I was done, Newton eyed it.
“Interesting list,” he said. “So you know how to make things lighter?”
“I don’t know if that’s exactly what it is,” I said. “I’m not actually changing mass or anything. Just kind of providing some lift, I guess.”
“I noticed you don’t say any magic words when you do these things,” Newton said.
“Yeah,” I said. “With practice I can just think about it, and it happens.”
“But there are some spells you have to speak the words for?” Newton asked.
“Yes. If I don’t use a spell very often, or if it’s new to me.”
“What are these spells like? Do they rhyme?”
“No,” I said. “They’re not like poetry. They’re more like . . . mantras.”
“Could you try one now?”
“I could. What kind of spell do you want?”
“Something you haven’t done in a really long time,” Newton said as he walked over to one of his sensor gadgets and turned it on. “I’d like to see if the data comes out differently.”
I had to think for a moment to recall something that had not been part of my usual practice rotation during my night watchman gig. The spell I’d used to evaporate the window in Dominique’s car was one, but since I’d recently used that maybe it wasn’t the best choice. An idea came to me after about a minute. “Give me a plain sheet of paper.”
Newton reached into a nearby drawer and retrieved a plain sheet of white paper, which he handed to me. I folded it in half to make a good crease in the middle of it, then opened it back up and laid it on the little table next to me. Then I spoke one of the first spells I ever learned.
“Wood that floats upon the air. Wings and wind, wings and wind. Light as a feather, flapping strong. Wings and wind, wings and wind. Rising high, gliding free. Wings and wind, wings and wind.”
The paper twitched, then twitched again. Then the two halves flapped up and down like the wings of a bird. The paper gradually lifted into the air, flapping its fake wings with stronger thrusts until it had enough lift to soar across the room. It flew gracefully for a few seconds before hitting the wall across the room. My flying paper instantly lost all of its magical life, and fluttered to the floor.
“It’s a stupid trick,” I said. “Not useful for anything other than showing off. That’s why I haven’t used it in a while.”
“I’m sure it is stupid to you,” Newton said with a wide grin. “But that was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”
“Then you need to get out more,” I said. “Was the data any different that time?”
Newton glanced at a few of the monitors arranged around the room. “There was more activity in a different part of your brain. That’s to be expected since you were recalling something from memory instead of reflex this time. Other than that, seems like it was the same as before. Fascinating.”
Newton kept looking at the screens, alternating his attention from one to the next. He did this for so long that I thought he forgot I was still there. “So what do we do next?”
“Oh,” he said, turning back to me. “I’ll report everything to Dominique and see what she says.”
“Great,” I said. “I’m sure that will go over well. If we’re done here, I’ll just take these gadgets off my head and be on my way.”
“Let me help you with that,” Newton said. In a few minutes the itchy electrodes were off and I felt a surge of relief. My stint as a lab rat was over . . . at least for now.
“Well, it was nice meeting you, Newton. Maybe I’ll see you around some time.”
“Oh I have no doubt about that,” Newton said with a wink. “I have a feeling we’re going to be seeing a lot more of each other.”
At the time, I thought Newton was just being flirty. I was cool with that since it had been a while since anyone had shown any interest in me. But it wasn’t long until I found out what he really meant.
* * *
The next day, Dominique continued the interrogation that Newton had abandoned.
She called me into her office. It was a chamber in the core of the United Nations building, and it was as big as my old apartment — the one I had before Dominique upgraded me to first class. She wore a simple black dress and a brown blouse. Her crinkled black hair was pulled back in a simple style. She could have easily passed for a harmless schoolteacher. Nobody would ever guess that she was one of the most powerful women in New York City.
“Take a seat,” she said when I entered her office. “I’ve gotten approval to officially assign you to a team. Your codename is Shadow.”
“Appropriate,” I said as I sat down in the polyester armchair across from her. “But not very creative.”
“I reserve my creativity for mission planning, not naming things. Now, let’s get to today’s business.”
“Okay,” I said. “What do we need to do?”
Dominique leaned back in her chair and said, “Tell me more about your history with the nightcrafters.”
“Really?” I said. “I thought you knew everything you needed to know already.”
“Not nearly,” Dominique said. “Thanks to Newton, we know a little more about what happens when you do what you do. But at this point I’d really like you to give us some more . . . let’s call it insider knowledge. We still know very little about the life of an average nightcrafter. And since you didn’t seem to be in the mood to answer some of Newton’s questions yesterday . . .”
“What makes you think I’m in a better mood now?”
Dominique gave me her best non-threatening smile. “We have a history, you and I. We’ve been through tough times.”
I took a deep breath, let it out. “So what do you want to know?”
“Anything,” Dominique said. “Start from the beginning if you have to. Who brought you into this little club?”
“My mentor,” I said. “The same guy who kicked me out of the club.”
“What was his name?” Dominique asked.
“Kellar.”
Dominique wrote it down. “Is that his first name or last name?”
“No idea,” I said. “That’s the only name I’ve ever heard him use.”
“Why did he expel you from the training?”
“I wasn’t what they were looking for.”
“You seem pretty adept at nightcrafting to me.”
“You’re not qualified to make that call,” I said. “Just trust me on this. At a certain point in my training it became clear to Kellar that I did not have the personality traits he wanted, and I never would.”
“Did your expulsion bother you?”
“Not really. I’d rather be out of the club. Kellar and his friends regularly pull things like that nachtjäger out of the Rift, and they don’t give a damn about the consequences. I just can’t be that kind of person. It’s not in me, and I’m okay with that.”
“Interesting,” Dominique said. “Is it customary for expelled students to just be sent back into the world with all that dangerous knowledge intact?”
“Of course not,” I said. “Normally nightcraft students who wash out have their memories a
ltered.”
Dominique raised an eyebrow. “But Kellar didn’t do that to you?”
“He didn’t,” I said. “I still know the nightcraft, obviously.”
“Why?”
“That is the question that I’ve been trying to figure out. Your guess is as good as mine.”
“But surely he was monitored by the other nightcrafters, and punished for letting you go.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But I doubt it. Nobody ever questioned him. Kellar was like the Michael Jordan of nightcrafters.”
“Is that so?” Dominique asked.
I nodded. “I didn’t get to see many other nightcrafters while I trained with Kellar. But whenever I did happen to witness a meeting between him and some other crafter, they always spoke to him in reverent tones. A lot of people asked him for help and advice, which he always gave, but everyone seemed very cautious of him. I can’t say I blame them for that. One time, I saw him get in a serious fight with another nightcrafter. They never did find the other guy’s body.”
“What did you do to earn the attention of such a prestigious instructor?” Dominique asked as she scribbled in her notebook. “Why did he pick you as a student? How did he even know you’d be able to learn?”
“I passed the test,” I said.
“The test?”
“Let me lay it out for you,” I said, leaning forward on my elbows. “Nightcrafters aren’t born, they’re made. Nobody comes out of the womb with a natural talent for this shit. So when the nightcrafters want to expand the ranks, they have to train people for the job. But most people aren’t cut out for this kind of stuff. That’s where the test comes in.”
“Go on,” Dominique said.
“Your average nightcrafter who’s looking for an apprentice is going to look for somebody smart and mentally tough. But, most of all, they have to be ambitious.”
“Why ambitious?”
“Because the student will need to have incredible drive to keep going. The craft is far from easy. Intelligence helps, but the most important trait you need is persistence. You’ve got to be willing to fail a thousand times before you get a spell right, and the only way most people keep up that kind of persistence is if they’re fiercely competitive and ambitious. You’ve got to want this power so bad that nothing else in the world matters — not sleep, not food, not love, not even your own safety. You have to suffer for your craft. But during all that torture, you know you’re getting close to being special.”