All Those Explosions Were Someone Else's Fault

by James Alan Gardner

  … but I wanted Elaine to win. And bite me again.

  The relationship between vampire and victim is toxic. Vampires like it that way.

  I WONDERED HOW MUCH NICHOLAS COULD SENSE

  He was connected with my mind. Could he feel my nauseated reaction?

  And what was he feeling? This was his sister, for god’s sake. How could he so blithely play voyeur? Sharing her image with somebody else was even sicker.

  I wanted to turn away. Maybe throw up. But the icy fingers digging into my brain held me frozen.

  Elaine said, “Are you leaving? It’s still early.” Her voice was tinny, as if I heard her over a cheap phone. Just as Nicholas couldn’t see colors, his sense of hearing seemed to be diminished.

  Another semitransparent figure walked into the scene: a man coated with steel, all too familiar. Like the first time I’d seen him, he resembled the Oscar statuette—faceless, sleek and broad-shouldered, but asexual. His lack of genitals seemed odd, considering how postcoital the rest of this scene was. Then again, the steel exterior was just a costume. Popigai/Diamond was dressed up and ready to go.

  “We need to check everything one more time.” His voice was as tinny as Elaine’s. His accent was Russian, not Australian: the Popigai persona, not Diamond. That suggested he was hiding his real identity from Elaine. I wondered what she did and didn’t know.

  “Why do ‘we’ need to check?” Elaine asked Diamond. “Can’t you do it on your own?”

  “Two pairs of eyes are better than one,” Diamond replied. “It’s easy for trivialities to mess up a plan. A mouse chews on a wire; a meddler wanders past and says, That shouldn’t be there, I’d better move it before there’s an accident. Worst of all, we have to watch for coincidences. Light and Dark can both manufacture flukes of luck, so we have to be doubly careful. Triply careful.” He waved his hand toward her. “Hurry up and get dressed.”

  “Do you really need two pairs of eyes?” Elaine asked. “Or do you not trust me out of your sight?”

  “That too,” Diamond said. “Trust is for fools. Now come, we have to get to Lake Huron and back before things start here.”

  “Of course,” Elaine said.

  Diamond turned impatiently toward the door. Elaine turned deliberately toward me.

  Seriously: It was direct eye contact. Nicholas and I stood in a corner where there was nothing. When this scene originally took place, Elaine had no reason to look in this direction.

  But she did. Not a random glance, but a long meaningful look. Then she went into the bathroom and began drying her hair.

  THE SCENE CONTINUED

  But when Elaine appeared again, she was not even wearing her bathrobe. Nicholas finally seemed to realize that he was showing me his sister naked. He jerked his fingers out of my skull.

  I could move again. I could see real colors. The full 360 degrees.

  I allowed myself a moment of relief. Then I said, “Did you see that?”

  “Of course I saw it,” Nicholas said. “I was the one showing it to you.”

  “But Elaine looked at me…” I stopped. “No, she must have been looking at you. I just saw it through your eyes.”

  “Kimmi, I was reconstructing something from hours ago. Elaine couldn’t have looked at me. I wasn’t here.”

  “She looked where she thought you’d be later,” I said. “She knows you can do reconstructions, right? She expected you to see this whole scene. She even guessed you’d stand in this corner to do it. It’s empty and out of the way.”

  “She couldn’t have known I’d be here.”

  “Couldn’t she?” I asked. “She wouldn’t expect you’d be sent to spy on her?”

  “Look,” Nicholas said, “the point is that Popigai—Diamond—he came right out and said that the conspiracy’s next move will be at that ritual.”

  The white invitation card rose from the nightstand and floated toward me. It hovered in front of my face until I took it. Nicholas said, “That’s where you and the other Sparks should go. Soon.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll call my father and see what he wants me to do. He might send me to the ritual, but maybe not. Elaine is obviously in this up to her eyeballs. Maybe he’ll leave her to twist in the wind, or maybe he’ll go and get her himself.”

  “Your father can get from Calgary to Lake Huron in less than an hour?”

  “Yes. So I’ll let him make the decision.” Nicholas glanced toward the phone on the writing table, then shook his head. “Not from here. This whole place may be compromised. I’ll go somewhere else.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “I have to, Kimmi,” he said.

  “Zircon,” I corrected him.

  “Sure.”

  The door of the room swung open of its own volition. Nicholas hesitated. I wondered if he was trying to decide whether to kiss me good-bye. A peck on the cheek? Did he think I expected that?

  A look of revulsion passed over his face.

  “Someone walking over your grave?” I asked, trying to make my voice light. “Just go.”

  Nicholas went, turning invisible the moment he crossed the threshold.

  WELL, I THOUGHT, I REALLY FUCKED UP, DIDN’T I?

  I’d given away my identity to a Darkling. Who would now phone his father and deliver a full report. If Nicholas didn’t say, “I ran into Kimmi, she’s a superhero now,” it would only be because he was too embarrassed to mention me.

  I was a “youthful indiscretion.” Let us never speak of her again.

  And obviously, my queerness appalled him. That made me laugh; the secret of my identity might depend on Nicholas’s discomfort at how I’d changed. “Who? No, sorry, that name doesn’t ring a bell.”

  Well, there were worse ways to keep a secret than relying on het-male squeamishness.

  I LOOKED AROUND THE ROOM ONE LAST TIME

  Not much had changed since the scene I’d witnessed. The bed still wasn’t made, but it had been de-rumpled: The sheets and coverlet had been haphazardly smoothed by someone who neither knew nor cared how to produce hospital corners. Still, it showed that Elaine and Diamond hadn’t dashed out the door the instant Elaine was ready.

  They’d taken the time to straighten the room. Yet they’d left the invitation card on the nightstand.

  It smelled like a red herring: a sign saying GO HERE NEXT, sending anyone who searched the room on a wild goose chase far from Waterloo.

  But in Nicholas’s reconstruction, Diamond had explicitly mentioned Lake Huron. It implied that the secret solstice ritual really was being targeted.

  Unless Nicholas had faked the whole scene to get me and my teammates out of town.

  Or Diamond had faked the scene for the same reason. Because he knew that Nicholas or the Dark Guard might come to this room and do exactly the kind of reconstruction I’d seen.

  Diamond was a genius. He might have planned a ruse to throw off anyone who could look back into the past. Maybe Elaine’s meaningful look into the corner told her brother, “Don’t trust this.” She couldn’t say it aloud with Diamond watching, but she could hint. For that matter, she may have left other hints in the room, and Nicholas had pocketed them before I arrived.

  “This is annoying,” I said aloud. Too many what-ifs. Too many people with too many powers that could leave false trails.

  Well, screw it. Maybe our Olympic-level Sherlock could ferret out the truth. Maybe Dakini had powers of retro-cognition, or Aria could just see through the bullshit. Let them take a crack at this. I sucked at playing detective.

  Holding the invitation card, I headed back downstairs.

  WHILE I WAS GONE, A VISITOR HAD ARRIVED AT THE VILLA

  It was the pustule demon, the one from the Widow’s car. Thanks to Red Pine Villa’s blinders, he’d entered without knowing anyone was inside. Dakini had sensed him immediately—a stink of phenol wafting through the house. Somehow she’d kept him from bolting off into the night. (I hoped she had done it with words, as opposed to bru
te mental force, but I didn’t ask.)

  The demon said his name was Pox. It was a codename, of course, like Wraith or Zircon. Dakini had likely fished his real name out of his brain, but so what? It would be something like Nigel Smith-Hawkington III, and Pox was infinitely easier to say with a straight face.

  Pox didn’t look good. More of his pustules had broken open since the last time I’d seen him. He’d made a clumsy attempt to clean up, but crusts of dried blood still surrounded his buboes. Maybe scrubbing had hurt so much, he’d given up.

  Even so, Pox had been lucky. He’d been at the Goblin Market and hadn’t died.

  He had us to thank for that. We had, of course, prevented the roof from collapsing and crushing everyone. More than that: Ninety-Nine had apparently given Pox first aid, then carried him to safety.

  She hadn’t known who he was. She’d never seen into the car.

  Surprisingly, Pox was grateful for having been saved—not a common trait among Darklings. In fact, he was so kindly disposed toward us that he willingly revealed what he and the Widow had been up to.

  (Again, I didn’t ask why Pox was so forthcoming, and Dakini didn’t mention any suasion she might have applied. She just smiled benignly.)

  POX CONFIRMED THAT THE WIDOW AND THE BRIDE WERE SISTERS

  They were identical twins, but the sort who wanted to differentiate themselves rather than mirror each other. The Bride had grown up impulsive, while the Widow became a sober counterbalance. When the twins turned eighteen, the Dark Conversion transformed them in accordance with their contrasting identities: white and black opposites.

  The Bride had fallen in with the Unbound cabal. Were they truly associated with ancient Darklings who hated the Elders, or were these Unbound just wannabes? Pox didn’t know. I got the impression that Pox didn’t know much. Whatever he might have been before the Dark Conversion, he now seemed mentally childlike: a useful tool both sisters employed if they needed someone to read minds. It made me feel sorry for him—I have a soft spot in my heart for people treated like crap by self-absorbed Darklings. But then immediately (because I’m me) I started to wonder if this was an act and Pox was much shrewder than he pretended.

  Sigh.

  Pox said the Widow had received a note from her sister: “Come to the Goblin Market on solstice night. Do whatever it takes to purchase Lot 49 at the auction. Push the ON button as soon as the item is in your hands.” Needless to say, the Widow viewed this message with suspicion. She sweet-talked Pox into coming with her to Waterloo. The Widow intended to find her sister before the auction began and turn Pox loose on the Bride’s frontal lobes to find out what Sis was up to.

  Pox and the Widow reached Waterloo early in the afternoon. Their first call was Red Pine Villa, since it was the number-one place for Darklings to stay in town. The receptionist wouldn’t say whether the Bride was staying in the villa, but Pox probed the man’s brain and discovered that yes, the Bride had checked in. She had gone out shortly thereafter, and the receptionist had no idea when she’d be back.

  Pox and the Widow poked around town. Most of the poking was done by the Widow’s driver. He was a human named Trent, an ex-policeman trained in investigation. Trent spent hours beating the bushes but turned up nothing helpful. Then, around 10:00 PM, a friend who was still on the force called Trent to say that a Darkling woman in a bridal gown had been reported in connection with an explosion at the university. Trent, Pox, and the Widow had staked out the campus police station. Eventually, on the Widow’s instructions, Pox tried to read the minds of four student witnesses …

  We knew how that went.

  Pox didn’t remember much, just that he was quickly knocked unconscious by a mental attack. He knew that meant Darklings or Sparks were trying to prevent anyone from learning the truth.

  With Pox out cold and the Bride MIA, the Widow had run out of options. She decided the only way forward was to follow her sister’s instructions: to buy Lot 49 at the Goblin’s auction.

  WHEN THE GROUP ARRIVED AT THE MARKET, POX DIDN’T GO IN

  He was awake but still woozy from Dakini’s mental attack, so he stayed in the car while Trent and the Widow went inside.

  I asked if the Widow had intended to meet anyone at the auction. Pox didn’t know. Either the Widow hadn’t told him she’d be meeting Elaine, or else the Widow hadn’t expected Elaine would be there.

  I could believe that. After all, Elaine had been wearing an Ignorance spell. Obviously she didn’t want to be noticed. By whom? Perhaps by the Widow.

  The two likely knew each other. Canada has about three hundred Darklings, and they all jet around, attending galas, soirees, and business meetings together. If Elaine wanted to get close to the Widow but not be remembered afterward, an Ignorance spell was essential.

  So the Widow went to the auction. Elaine sat beside her, but shielded herself with a spell that made the Widow ignore her. Then what?

  Pox remained in the car, but after a while, he recovered enough strength to snoop around from a distance. Clairvoyance? No, he couldn’t do that—the market was blocked with blinders. Pox just tapped into the Widow’s mind to see what she was seeing.

  Good thing Pox was just a naive kid, or he’d have creepy written all over him.

  So Pox piggybacked on the Widow’s mind at the auction. He watched her buy Lot 49. He watched as she pressed the big red button, in accordance with the Bride’s instructions.

  DIAMOND’S GADGET SUCKED MAGICAL ENERGY FROM HER

  It nearly drained her dead. The Widow collapsed as gushers of magic pumped out of her like blood.

  “Of course!” Ninety-Nine said, interrupting Pox’s story. “The rift projector must need magic to start the process! That’s how this whole thing connects with the eclipse and the solstice. Science doesn’t depend on occult trappings, but magic does.”

  It made sense. When we’d first seen Popigai’s “replicator,” it had begun running but nothing happened. The rift didn’t open until the remote-control gadget sucked up energy from the Widow. As for the rifts in the lab and Red Pine Villa, there’d been plenty of Darklings present on both occasions. They could have contributed energy to help the rift open.

  “It would have to be voluntary,” Ninety-Nine said. “The replicator couldn’t just grab a passerby and milk ’em for magic. Sorcery only works if you play by the rules. In this case, a Darkling would have to willingly make the sacrifice to start the ball rolling.”

  “Was the Widow willing to get drained?” Dakini asked. “She didn’t know it would happen.”

  “She might not have known the exact details,” Ninety-Nine said, “but she pressed the button anyway. She accepted whatever would happen.”

  “Her sister set her up,” Aria said. “The Bride sent the Widow that message, knowing that pressing the button would drain the Widow’s energy. Also cause an explosion, and possibly drop a roof on her head.”

  Ninety-Nine shrugged. “Sisters.” Jools had four of them. Their presence in Alberta was one reason Jools had picked a university far from home.

  I’m glad I’m an only child.

  I ASKED POX, “WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THE WIDOW PRESSED THE BUTTON?”

  Pox didn’t know. He had seen this all through the Widow’s eyes; when the gadget drained her energy, Pox was caught by the same magical effect. He nearly passed out before he managed to sever the connection.

  “You may have saved the Widow’s life,” Ninety-Nine said. “You contributed some of your own magical energy. If Popigai’s doohickey had taken all it needed from the Widow herself, it might have killed her.”

  “Really?” Pox said. “I guess that’s good.” He actually smiled—not a great look for him, considering the blood-rimmed sores all over his face.

  Pox had no idea what happened in the time that he was reeling from energy drainage. When he recovered, he ran into the building to see if the Widow needed his help, but by then, the rift was open and the super-Darklings were loose. Luckily Pox missed most of the explosions, but he g
ot smacked by the final one. All he remembered was waking up with Ninety-Nine tending his wounds.

  Later, Pox tried to go back to the Widow’s car. It was gone. He returned to the stables where other Darklings were being treated. Eventually, he found somebody he knew and begged for a ride to Red Pine Villa. He hoped the Bride or the Widow would show up there eventually.

  None of us told him what had happened to the Bride. We didn’t have the heart.

  NINETY-NINE SAID, “IF THE CAR WAS GONE, THE WIDOW MUST HAVE SURVIVED”

  “Either her or Trent,” Aria said.

  “He wouldn’t have left without her,” Dakini said.

  “Probably not,” Aria admitted. “If she was hurt, maybe he threw her into the car and drove her to the hospital.”

  “Or maybe they just ran,” Ninety-Nine said. “They may have wanted to escape before anyone found out the Widow had set off the whole mess.”

  “She did so unwittingly,” Dakini said. “Why would she run?”

  “Maybe she worried no one would believe she wasn’t involved,” Ninety-Nine said. “Or she didn’t want to damage her family’s reputation by telling what her sister had done.”

  I said, “Maybe Elaine had something to do with the Widow leaving.”

  “Why do you say that?” Ninety-Nine asked.

  “Elaine was sitting right there when the Widow pressed the button. And Elaine knew what was coming. If the Widow was supposed to die but didn’t, what would Elaine have done?”

  “Finish her off?” Ninety-Nine suggested. “Maybe that’s why Elaine was there in the first place: to whack the Widow if the gizmo didn’t. Tie up loose ends.”

  I shook my head. “Killing someone up close and personal has all kinds of mystical consequences. For one thing, it creates a connection that skilled sorcerers can trace. A wizard can try to cover the traces, but then it becomes a contest: who’s stronger and smarter, the tracer or the tracee. Elaine is good at magic, but is she good enough to beat the Dark Guard at one of their specialties? She wouldn’t take the risk if she could avoid it.”