Toxic Influence

by Voss Foster

  Before I could say anything to her, Swift marched out. "What the hell are you two doing here? Get home. Get out of here." He almost sounded angry. As angry as any laid back hippie could ever hope to sound, at any rate. Angrier than he had when we were interrogating Eir. He was certainly glaring between the two of us, his eyes hard and sharp.

  King spoke first. "You want to know what happened or not?"

  "I can find out tomorrow. You two were poisoned."

  I shrugged. "To be fair, I've already been poisoned once this month. Didn't stop me from working."

  He struggled and failed to hide a tiny smile. But it didn't cut the ire out of his voice when he spoke. "You two are in bad shape, and you're ordered to take the day."

  "They're still out there, they're still taking people down, and I'm an FBI agent." King nodded. "I'm not going anywhere."

  "You're ignoring a direct order from your commanding officer, and the medical opinion of a doctor."

  "And you sound surprised. Are we done talking about obvious things?" King jabbed a thumb toward her office. "I'm holing up here. You want to talk to me about what happened, find me."

  A few seconds they stood there, staring at each other, then Swift turned his attention to me. "You plan on going home?"

  "Not if someone doesn't make me. This is the fifth poison attack, and you don't have anyone else here who's familiar with counterterrorism operations." I really would have liked to go to bed, actually. It probably would have been the best, smartest decision I could make, given the circumstances. But people died in that apartment building. King and I were almost among the bodies. I couldn't go home if there was anything I could do.

  Swift shook his head, but when he spoke again, there was no more anger or fire, and his eyes weren't so sharp or dangerous. He just sounded kind of resigned to his fate. "If Casey asks what the hell you're doing here, I'm going to tell him you two are stubborn asses. Maybe he has a pill that'll fix that." He waved us over to Kimmy's room. "Come give us a rundown, and we'll give it right back to you."

  And wonder of wonders, King actually trundled over. I was totally and completely expecting her to dart back into her office and hide from human interaction like she had been this entire case so far. Guess that's why I wasn't out there profiling serial killers. Couldn't read people well enough.

  We all crammed into the computer vault. Gutt patted me on the shoulder as I sat, which was unfortunately similar to an attack on my still-tender skin and newborn muscles. But I nodded to him all the same.

  Kimmy glanced to me and King. "You two look like dog shit."

  "But real sexy dog shit, right? Enough to make all the other dog shit out there jealous?"

  She gave a nice disgusted eye roll and went back to her screens.

  Swift clapped his hands. "All right you two. Here's what we know so far: there was a poison gas attack from two sources. Thirteen people died."

  "Thirteen people?" King's fist tightened against her thigh. "Fucking…we should have brought in a team and cleared it."

  "You made the best decision you could at the time. It was a routine check, avoiding public panic." Swift patted her hand a couple times. "And you saved a lot more people than that."

  But that didn't matter. I was with King: everyone else wasn't near as important as the thirteen people who wouldn't be going home to see their families ever again. But I swallowed it all down and, pretty soon, Swift picked back up.

  "There was some kind of canister in an apartment on the sixth floor. Recovery team brought it back to see if we could figure anything out."

  "That's where the poison came from." I waited for any reaction, but got nothing. "And you guys knew that already."

  Another beat of silence before Gutt broke in. "Where it came from?"

  King nodded. "I saw it, too. Started spewing out poison gas a little bit after we found it. I don't remember a whole lot of details after that, if I'm honest."

  Gutt scratched his chin, nodding slowly. "It's certainly interesting. Don't know what it means yet, though."

  "Couldn't they just be storing the poison in there?"

  Gutt shook his head. "Unlikely. Every other time, someone has simply unsealed it and let it flow freely. To change that tactic now…it's unlikely there's a practical reason behind it, so much as a personal reason." He lowered his hand and his considerable jaw fell open. "Bancroft, are you familiar with the Strife of El-Aran?"

  Everyone looked to Bancroft. Hell, I did, even though I had no fucking idea what they were on about. And after a few seconds, Bancroft nodded. "To as much an extent as anyone else in the Mundane, I imagine."

  Gutt cracked his knuckles one by one as he spoke. "The event that turned the tide was the messenger sent to the emperor of El-Aran by the resistance leader."

  Slowly, I watched the realization of something pass over Bancroft's face, bringing him new life. "The firestorm. He assumed the message would be a surrender. But in reality, it was…dramatic flair and a chance to sneak magic into the palace under the hubris of the emperor. It communicated their point very clearly, and the scroll told him that the firestorm in the throne room was just the beginning. El-Aran withdrew the imperial forces from the rebel encampments within the week."

  "Precisely," said Gutt. "It was a show of power, to prove to the emperor he was fallible, and that they held his fate in their hands."

  "But could this be what it is?" Bancroft pushed his hair back from his face. "It's a jump, don't you think?"

  "Of course it's a jump. Everything in this case right now is a jump. But sometimes, when you jump, you land where you always needed to be." Gutt turned to Swift. "We need to get the remains from the canister and examine it. The odds are incredibly long, as Bancroft said, but…I'd like to check for a message on it. One that may have been left for us."

  Shit. Double shit. I didn't like the sound of that. The terrorists reaching out to us? No. That wasn't okay. That was…a show of power.

  Or…another show of power. A private one, just for us.

  "A message?" Swift shook his head. "Why would they reach out now?"

  "It's not outside the realm of logic." Now everyone was looking at me. Yay. "They released that video. They're confident. They've already reached out once. If there was a time for them to send us a more direct message, it would make sense for it to be now."

  "And why send a message in a metal capsule instead of an envelope?"

  King grunted. "They probably wanted it to look like a bomb. Maybe people wouldn't be afraid to see a collection of symbols on the eight o'clock news, but New Yorkers understand a bomb."

  Swift nodded, looking grim. "It's as solid a theory as anything." He closed his eyes, breathing deeply a few times, then nodded. "I'll have the remains of the capsule shipped here so we can take a look. I want everyone else back at what they were doing before this. Dash, finish sweeping up that website and get me the report. Then you are going home. Early. And that goes for you too, King."

  Agent King snorted. "We'll see, Swift. The greenhorn and I might have a bigger bone to pick with these bastards now."

  She walked off…and I got the feeling I'd inched just past 'worthless maggot' in King's book. Score for me.

  Chapter Eleven

  I did get the report done, and I was happy to swing home at that point. Apparently with this fresh poisoning, I couldn't even read and write for a little while without becoming just completely exhausted. Plus I was coughing up sludge that was a sort of unnatural gray color. Not black like Oscar, but not particularly comforting either. I figured I'd have to ask Casey about that the next time I saw him.

  I was still well enough to pick up a burger and fries from Julian's. Mostly because they had a drive through, but also because I was still starving after recovering. That hadn't happened last time, either.

  I made it to the couch and managed to set the food down, but as soon as I hit the cushion, I felt my eyelids droop. I should be eating. I knew that. But the food was all the way on the coffee table. A fifte
en minute nap…the fries would still be sort of warm…how bad could it be?

  I drifted in and out of sleep, not quite able to convince myself to move to the bed, and not quite able to convince myself to stay awake. My brain launched into overdrive as I lay there on the couch. I couldn’t focus on any one thing, other than the fact I couldn’t focus. My thoughts cycled over and over, none of them making real sense.

  Manhattan. Poison. Terrorists. Humans. Preets. Manhattan again.

  I started to shiver, even though I kept the house at seventy-two year round. That's when I knew some shit was going down. "I need to call…Casey."

  I struggled to my feet. Struggled getting off my couch, and fumbled with my phone. My heartrate was up, but whether that was the poison of my panic about the poison, I couldn’t say. But I could barely fish my phone out of my pocket, and even swiping over to my contacts was a shaky affair.

  I wasn't crying, but I could tell I was damn close. My whole body was cold, whether from whatever the hell was going on…or because of fear. Because I can assure you, I was pants-shittingly terrified. The fight to focus on my phone and my finger at the same time gave me a throbbing headache.

  I finally got to Casey and made my thumb hit the green phone icon. Then the speaker icon, because I wasn't sure how well I could hold onto my phone at that point. Was I going to die? Was I going to die waiting for someone to pick up?

  "Dr. Casey Daniels, OPA."

  "Casey." My voice felt odd. More hoarse than when I left. "It's Dash." The words were slow, and I was struggling to hold onto them long enough to spit them out. "Help…please."

  There was no response. Did he hear me? Did I actually say the words?

  I felt heavy all the sudden. Then my knees dropped…and lifted. Up. I was in the air. Something had grabbed me. I couldn't focus long enough to see anything. It felt like the worst acid trip. Could I even fight back if I needed to?

  No.

  My apartment disappeared for colors. Colors meant the Kingdoms, maybe. This could be remote transport. Could Casey do that? And levitate me?

  Then it was all white, and I was back down.

  "Thanks." Casey's voice, though I could barely make him out over the pounding heartbeat in my ears. "You need to check on King. She's probably still in her office being stubborn."

  Whoever he was talking to must have left, because I felt some sort of pressure on my neck.

  "Jesus, your heart's going a mile a minute." The pressure went away from my neck. I had to be back at the OPA, getting medical treatment. It was Casey. He went to do something. Get something. My heart…why was he taking so long? I couldn't hold on.

  "Okay, there's going to be a little prick. Adenosine." A tiny needle jabbed into the side of my neck, just where he'd been checking my heartbeat before. "This should slow you down. Just try to relax, okay Dash?"

  I couldn't even remember what relaxing felt like. Maybe I never knew what it was like. Manhattan. Poison. Preets. I just laid there and, after a few seconds, my heart quieted. My chest didn't ache quite as much. But everything else was still wrong. "Casey…better." My voice was even worse. "Not good."

  "One step at a time." His voice quivered, and I was aware enough to notice his voice quivering. "We're just going to take a look at what's going on."

  I felt his hands on my chest for a few seconds. "Bad?"

  "We'll work it out."

  It was bad.

  "This poison's not going to get the best of me, sweetie. Don't you worry." He sounded more like he was telling himself than me. "Okay, this is going to burn. Just ride it out. It's a big bad dose of blood scrubbers."

  Another prick, followed by fire. I didn't shout, but only because my throat clenched shut. Everything tensed at the scrubbers screamed through my veins.

  I vaguely felt Casey's hand on my forehead. "I know, I know…it's okay. I wouldn't normally inject it, but we needed to do something. It'll be over soon. It'll be okay."

  Except it wouldn't. I'd die here, in the medical room in the Office of Preternatural Affairs. My blood would all boil to nothing, my organs would all explode from the strain. My final moments would be spent trying to focus on anything I could. And thanks to Casey's ministrations, I'd be just aware enough to feel every bit of it.

  I opened my eyes…and there was a ceiling. Industrial tiles, all white. Fuzzy, moving…but clearing. My throat released and I began to moan. But I was moaning. I could breathe. I could feel my fingers. Feel something other than agony, anyway. My head throbbed, but not because I was trying to look at anything. Was that good or bad?

  And I finally got to see Casey. When I made eye contact, he broke out into nervous laughter, even if it didn't uncrease his forehead. "Dash? Are you in there? What do you need?"

  I still couldn't quite put words together the way I wanted to. I swallowed to try and wet my throat before speaking. "Just…help me."

  He nodded. "Okay…okay, I'm going to get some more—"

  I didn't find out what more he was going to get, because Gutt rushed in, supporting a pale Agent King as she hobbled in. Swift was right behind, face set into a scowl.

  Casey shook his head. "How bad?"

  Agent King shook her head. "It'll pass." She was shaking as she walked over to lean against the counter. "Help the kid."

  "No." I couldn't quite manage to move and look less pathetic like she could, but still. I was going to try. My head was clearing a little bit, enough to keep more than one thought in it at a time. "Help King. She's old." My filter was officially gone. "Sorry."

  King didn't move, and her voice was getting softer. "I'll kick your ass when you're healthy."

  Casey was jogging around the room, now. "Gutt, watch her. If her pulse gets high, inject her with this. King, I need you to drink this. It's bitter. Blood scrubbers, high potency. But it's better than taking it intravenously." Then he was back at my side. "Your body doesn't like being poisoned so often. Can you tell me what's the worst?"

  "I'm not…thinking. Thinking is hard."

  "You probably have a fever. I can do a fever." He grabbed a thermometer and came right back to me. It went on my forehead, then started beeping.

  Casey pulled it back. "Jesus…106."

  Swift finally chimed in. "Are they going to make it?" No more lazy new Orleans accent there. All tightness and worry.

  "What does it look like I'm trying to do?" Casey placed his hands on my forehead. "Gutt, check King's temp, see where she's at." Then he leaned in close so only I could hear him. "Just stay still. It's going to get worse before it gets better."

  As opposed to everything else he'd been doing to me so far. But I nodded and grabbed the edges of the exam table. And god damn it, it got worse. Naked in Antarctica worse. I couldn't keep my teeth from chattering, and all the sensation went out of my fingers and toes again.

  But then something snapped, almost physically. I felt everything rushing back into my body. Heat and life and breath and sensation, all in an instant. I gasped and sat up, looking around. My hair dripped sweat down my forehead. I reached one shaky hand up and wiped it away.

  Casey bustled past me and went to King, and Swift walked over. "You okay there, Dash?"

  Was I? Could I tell that? Maybe I was still in delirium, or this was the afterlife. "Ask Casey." My voice still sounded like shit, but I could look Swift in the face, recall information about him. And the words were coming easier. "My brain's working again, which is a plus."

  Casey ran back. "We caught King in time. Her fever spiked at 102." He grabbed my face and pulled my lower eyelids down, peering into me. "What's fourteen plus twenty-nine?"

  "Umm…thirty-three, I think?"

  "And how much can you remember about what just happened?" Casey pulled back to stand next to Swift. "Be specific."

  "I mean…not a whole lot, probably. I came here. I guess Gutt came to get me? You lowered my heart rate, then you did the blood scrubbers, and then the fever. Right?"

  Casey actually smiled that time. "Okay…I think y
ou're in the clear for right now. But I want to keep an eye on both of you through the night." He checked my temperature again. When it beeped, he sighed. "I'll take a hundred for right now. It'll go down on its own."

  Swift cleared his throat. "Is that what the other poisoning victims are going through?"

  Casey shook his head. "Not the lucky ones. The lucky ones just die."

  Shit… "Oscar. Did he…?"

  "No. The damage there was so extensive, his body never tried to fight it off. That's what causes a fever like that, your body just trucking through." Casey rubbed a hand down his face and…and he looked tired. "Of course it also takes a swing at killing you in the process of fighting it off."

  Swift stuffed his hands in his pockets. "You two are holed up here for the night. Casey, you mind sticking around to keep an eye on them, make sure they don't explode or something?"

  "Fine by me."

  Swift nodded. "Accommodations are slightly below five star, but it's homey enough. And I'm not going to stop you two from doing work. It's a fruitless effort, because I doubt either of you would listen to me. But don't literally kill yourselves, all right?"

  King shrugged. She was drenched in sweat, but not pale anymore. "You know me so well." Then she turned her gaze to me. "My office, greenhorn. Since we're stuck together for the rest of the night, one of us should be comfortable. Namely me."

  After everyone had cleared out, it was just Casey, King, and I. King led us over to her office. "If you're not ready to work on this shit, then don't come in. The poison failed to take me down twice, and now I'm pissed."

  "Sounds about right." Once again, my mind returned unwillingly to Oscar. Casey said he never felt that…but was that true? How could anyone be sure what he went through lying out in the grass, surrounded by the corpses of his family? Only Oscar knew that for sure. "The faster we get these bastards taken down, the happier I'll be."

  King smiled at me over her shoulder as she slid the key into he lock. "And here I was questioning Swift's decision to bring you on." She pushed the door open. "Take any chair but mine if you value your lives."