Dead Stare (Ghosts & Magic Book 3)

by M. R. Forbes

  “You think she’s going to show, boss?” Frank asked a few minutes later.

  I had been confident in the beginning. It had quickly faded. “I don’t know. I hope so. I hope that Black hasn’t done something to her.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Excuse me,” one of the AI avatars said, stepping toward us from a street corner. A man in a suit.

  “What’s up, pal?” Frank said.

  “Go to the end of the road and turn left,” it said as it walked right past us.

  I watched it for a second. Clever.

  “I think we should do what it says,” I said.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Frank replied.

  We went to the end of the street and turned left. We’d barely reached the corner when a prostitute approached us, grabbing Frank’s arm.

  “Looking for a good time, honey?” it said.

  “Uh-” Frank looked away, embarrassed.

  “Head north two blocks to the red sign.”

  She let go of him and returned to the corner.

  We walked north, pausing when we reached a storefront with a red neon sign that read “Pawn and Liquor.” A gangbanger was leaned against the wall there, staring us down.

  “Yo,” he said. “Turn around. Down the alley.”

  Even in the Machine, I wound up in a fucking alley? We followed the instructions, making our way into and down a dark, dingy passage between two buildings. The smell of dead rodents and feces was strong in the air. I didn’t like the feel of it.

  “List mods,” I said softly. A list of my avatar modifications floated in front of my face. All of them suggested different kinds of sick sexual enhancement. That’s what I got for being forced into one of Rolo’s avatars.

  “Baron.”

  Sandman stepped out of the shadows. She looked the same as the last time I had seen her.

  “It’s about time,” I said. “I’ve got the key.”

  “I know.” She smiled, stepping into the light.

  Her eyes were blue.

  39

  8-ball, corner pocket

  She noticed that I had noticed. Her smile grew bigger. “I never did care much for deception.” A whole crew of bad guys poured from every crevice. They were armed with bats and chains and pipes, dressed in denim and leather like a 50s biker gang. “The key belongs to Mr. Black. You shouldn’t have taken it.”

  “You can’t kill us in here,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the gang members. There were at least twenty of them surrounding us.

  “I don’t need to kill you, Baron, in here or out there. I just need to wipe the key, or at the very least keep you from using it. That’s why my bots don’t have guns.”

  Bots? Was this guy acting alone? He had done a masterful job of duplicating Sandman’s avatar. He had only fucked up the eyes. Or had it been intentional?

  “Who are you?”

  He smiled. “I’m not going to tell you that. We’re both alive out there. I want to stay that way.”

  The gang started to close in on us.

  “Feel free to exit the Machine if you want to escape,” Fake Sandman said. “I can’t stop you.”

  I backed up, meeting Myra and Frank in the center of the shrinking circle of Sharks. Or were they Jets?

  “What do you want to do, boss?” Frank asked. “I don’t have trogre strength in here.”

  “Or trogre regen. I don’t know about you, but my mods suck.”

  “Bad choice of words. I don’t think I’ve got anything that can help.”

  “I do,” Myra said. “I didn’t let him preload me with that rig-standard crap. Mod Athena.”

  I watched as her avatar changed into the Greek goddess of war, complete with helmet, breastplate, and a flaming sword.

  The change forced Fake Sandman’s hand. The bots attacked, rushing in at us with chains twirling and bats ready to swing.

  I ducked a solid swing, coming up and hitting my attacker hard in the chest. He groaned and fell back a step, recovering almost immediately. A second biker grabbed my arm, and I tried to send my magic into him before remembering I didn’t have any here. I yanked instead, trying to free myself as the first guy cocked the bat again.

  Myra’s sword cut off the avatar’s arm and then sliced neatly through the bat before it could be swung again. I was about to thank her when a chain hit the side of her helmet, knocking her away.

  I jumped on the biker’s back, wrapping my arm around his neck and trying to strangle him, giving Myra a few seconds to jump back to her feet. She sliced one of the assholes neatly in half and elbowed another, sending him crashing into the wall. He bounced off and came back, barely affected.

  I rode the biker, realizing that choking him out was futile. He wasn’t real and didn’t need air. That didn’t mean I was going to let go. It made it harder to hit me without hitting him. Or at least, I thought it would, until a bat came flying at my face, right next to my ride’s. I dropped off as it connected with the side of his head, bashing it in and knocking him to the ground. I backpedaled, right into the arms of a waiting bot. He wrapped me up in a full-nelson, holding me tight while I struggled.

  “Drop the sword,” Fake Sandman said.

  I shifted my eyes, finding Myra on her feet, still fighting, while Frank was buried beneath a pile of bots.

  Myra looked at me. We could still exit the Machine. Get out and try again. Come back more prepared the next time. Would it matter? This ghost would be waiting, appropriately escalated to match whatever we returned with. He was skilled. More skilled than Myra. Enough so that if I had to guess I would say he was a technomancer. What about Rolo? Would he make himself useful if I told him what it would mean for his life if magic went away? After all, if Mr. Black undid everything, the Machine would go, too.

  “Now, let’s just finish extracting the data and you’ll be free to go,” Fake Sandman said, approaching me. “Or you can go now. Your choice, Baron.”

  I couldn’t replace the key. I could try to get past him again. We were going to have to evacuate. There was no other choice.

  “You know what’s going to happen to this place, don’t you?” I said. If I was going to try to appeal to Rolo with the consequences, why not this ghost? “If Mr. Black gets what he wants?”

  “He wants to keep you out of his home.”

  “He wants more than that. Do you know what Mr. Black is trying to do?”

  “I don’t ask questions. I’m paid to follow orders.”

  “Yeah, I get that. And that’s normally what you should do. But you need to know; Mr. Black is planning on ending magic. He’s going to pull the plug on the Machine the first chance he gets.”

  I saw her brows dip just a little. She was surprised by the statement.

  “You’re lying,” she said. “It’s understandable that you would, considering your other options.”

  “He isn’t lying,” Frank said. “We’re trying to stop him, and you’re getting in the way.”

  “Why would I believe you?” Fake Sandman said. “Any of you?” She stepped forward, putting her hand out toward my forehead. “You have two seconds to make your choice, Baron.”

  I felt the hold on my arms loosen slightly. Then the bot that was holding me spoke.

  “He isn’t lying, Pool,” it said.

  “What?” Pool took a step back. “I didn’t program you to speak.”

  “You didn’t program me at all.”

  The biker let me go. The weapons vanished from the rest of them, and they stood straight up with their arms at their sides.

  “What’s going on?” Pool said, growing nervous. “What did you do? How do you know my handle?”

  “I found your node and took a peek. You can learn a lot about a person that way. I’m sorry I’m late, Baron. Mr. Black has been trying to block me as best he can. It took me some time to work around it. He was stupid for giving me direct access to the Machine. I don’t think he imagined how capable I would become.”

  “It’s no problem,” I said, str
etching my neck. “You got here in time. Fake Sandman, meet the real Sandman.”

  Pool looked both frightened and pissed. “How did you hack my bots? Are you a techno?”

  “No. Your code is sloppy, and your magic is weak. Like I said, he isn’t lying to you, Pool. Mr. Black is going to end the Machine if he can. He’s going to take your power away. Are you going to let him?”

  Pool shook her head. “What can I do? If I go against Black, he’ll know about it. He’ll kill me. He’s already on the warpath.”

  “He’ll kill you for failing if you don’t keep us from the vault,” Sandman said. “I’ll kick you out if you try to stop us. Whatever way you choose, you’re a dead man.”

  Pool stood silent and still.

  “Unless you help us,” Sandman said. “If we can get to Black before he can get to you, there’s a slim chance you’ll survive.”

  “I’ve got a wife and son,” Pool said, her whole demeanor changing now that she was the one who had to make a choice between bad and worse.

  “Then give yourself the best chance to live. We have the key to the vault. Do you know where it is?”

  “No. They don’t give me that kind of intel.” Pool’s avatar changed then, from the faux Sandman to a guy in a simple black suit. “Damn it. This was supposed to be easy money. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.”

  “Would an incentive help?” I said. “House Red’s new benefactor has deep pockets.” And a hoard of gold.

  “And break my contract? I’m-”

  “Dead,” I finished for him. “Yeah, in this case, you can be dead and honorable, or possibly alive and funded. You said you don’t know where the vault is, but it’s obvious you know something.”

  “They’re watching me. The admins. They’ve got a line on my node.”

  “I’ve already blocked it,” Sandman said. She had changed the biker avatar to her original form, yellow eyes and all. “It will take at least thirty minutes for them to get a team to your physical position.”

  “Tell us what you know, and House Red will take care of you.”

  “Red? Red can barely take care of itself.”

  “I told you, they have a new benefactor. Or didn’t you hear? They’re also aligned with Yellow and Blue.”

  “The Houses are at war, pal,” Frank said.

  “Only Red or Black can come out as the winner,” Sandman said. “Either way, the balance of power is going to change, and only one of those sides wants to keep the world the way it is.”

  “What do you know?” I asked again.

  Pool heaved a massive sigh. “I don’t know where the vault is. I can tell you who does, but he’s never going to tell you. Not even if it means losing the Machine.”

  “Who?”

  “Aldred Jones.”

  “The Aldred Jones?” Myra asked.

  “Yeah. Black hired him to build the vault.”

  I turned to Sandman. “I still don’t understand what this has to do with finding the right door?”

  “Everything,” Sandman replied. “Black is powerful. Incredibly powerful. But that power is divided into a hundred pieces. He doesn’t switch the door position on his own. It’s automated based on an algorithm, the source code for which is stored in the vault.”

  “Automagic?” Frank said.

  “Yes. If we can get into the vault, we can reverse engineer the algorithm and figure out where the door is at any given moment.”

  “Except the only person who knows how to get to the vault is the guy who created the Machine,” I said. “The one person in all the world who values privacy, security, and anonymity above all other things.”

  “He’ll tell us where it is,” Sandman said. “He has to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I know who he is on the outside. I know where he lives.”

  “He won’t give up Black to save his own life,” I said. “Or his family’s, if he has one. There’s nothing you can control him with.”

  “There’s always something,” Sandman said. “Always.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that, but I decided to play along. It was Sandman’s life on the hook after all.

  “Fine,” I said, turning to Pool. “Where can we find him?”

  40

  Beach bums

  Nothing was far away in the Machine if you had the right mods, or were traveling with the right person. A construct that sat a simulated distance of ten-thousand miles was only a step away, or in Sandman’s case, a teleport.

  I expected that she would jump us over to the club where Aldred was supposed to hang out whenever he was inside. I was taken off-guard when she split us up, bouncing Myra and Frank to the Wysiwyg and her and me to somewhere else.

  A beach. A white, pristine beach where a perfect blue ocean lapped at the sand.

  “What is this?” I asked, suddenly fearful that I’d be suckered.

  “House Red?” Sandman said, her eyes instantly furious.

  I made a face. I knew what this was about. “Yeah. I can explain-”

  “I told you not to get Tarakona involved. Did you think I was kidding? Now you’re using him to offer bribes to bad programmers?”

  “You went along with it.”

  “Did I have a choice? The last thing Pool needed was to see us at odds with one another. Ugh. I can’t believe you’re so stupid.”

  The statement pissed me off. “Stupid? You set me up against the most powerful wizard alive and expected me to be able to keep him neutralized on my own? And don’t forget, that was after you threatened the welfare of my family. If anyone was being stupid, it was you.”

  “Me?”

  She looked like she wanted to say more. Instead, all of the anger dropped in an instant, and digital tears formed on her digital eyes.

  “I just want to be free,” she said. “Tarakona won’t let me go. He’ll lock me up, just like Black did.”

  “Not so he can find a way to use your blood to kill people.”

  “Do the reasons why matter? Caged is caged.”

  “You have the Machine.” It was a lame thing to say.

  “News flash. This place isn’t real. Some people might find living in a world where normal rules don’t apply is exciting, but this is the only world I’ve ever gotten a chance to know. To be honest, being able to change the rules makes it mundane. There’s no risk to it. No randomness. No spiritual center.”

  “You’re dragging God into this?”

  “I’m trying to drag a little empathy out of you, Conor. You used to care about things.”

  “I care about my family.”

  “You do, but not as much as you care about yourself.”

  I felt the guilt stirring. How was it that this woman who had never seen the true light of day could see right through me?

  “I do my best to take care of them. It isn’t any of your damn business.”

  “Do you want to know what my world looks like? Not this one. The one out there. It’s a suite of rooms, like an apartment. Unlike an apartment, there are no hard edges. No solid tables. No knives, no forks. Nothing that I could possibly cut myself on or with. Even my Machine rig is embedded in this gel of some kind that makes the outer part of it mushy.”

  “Black is worried that you’ll kill yourself?”

  “Kill myself, hurt myself, or otherwise diminish my value to him. At the front of the apartment is a soft table. My meals appear there, magicked in by him because nobody ever comes or goes. I have to eat them with my fingers, no matter what it is.”

  “What about laundry? Sheets, blankets, clothing?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t have any.”

  “You don’t have any clothes?”

  “I could choke myself with them. I’ve spent my entire life out there completely naked, completely exposed and yet totally sheltered. I don’t even know what I look like.” She held out her arms. “This is the best approximation I can come up with. The color of the skin is correct, and I can see most of my body by looking down, so the general
size and shape is right. The walls of the apartment have a little bit of reflection if I look into them just so, which is how I know my eyes are yellow. I know my hair is long because it has never been cut. But my face? I don’t know if this is my face. I’ve never seen the real thing.”

  I had never expected to hear a story like this. Her words were digging deep into me, cutting through the layers of defenses and reaching toward my soul. She wanted to drag some empathy out.

  It was working.

  “When you told me it didn’t matter how you were different-”

  “It’s because I don’t know. I’m not pure human; that much is obvious. I know I’m unique because Black said I am. He also said I’m dangerous. How? Why? I wish I knew. Maybe then the captivity would make sense?”

  The tears were flowing now. I wasn’t looking at a powerful Machinist, who was on the verge of helping me pull one over on Mr. Black. I was looking at a scared girl.

  I approached her then. Somewhere within myself, I found a tiny shred of compassion, and I let it work its way up. I held out my arms, and she stepped into them, letting me try to be comforting.

  “I won’t turn you over to Tarakona.”

  “You may not have a choice.”

  “Everyone always has a choice.” I’d made some lousy ones in the past. Maybe this could somehow make up for them a little bit.

  “You can’t fight him. He’s too powerful.”

  “More powerful than Black?”

  “Powerful in a different way.”

  I could counter magic. I had no defenses against six foot long claws.

  “I’ll take my chances. I’ve already died once today.”

  She broke free of my embrace, stepping away. “What?”