by Jim C. Hines
“Thanks.” Once the siren’s body was restored, I offered the potion to Lena for the wounds from Kiyoko’s laser. While Lena healed herself, I pulled Kiyoko’s sleep spell from the siren, like clearing cobwebs.
The siren gasped, then looked down at herself. Kiyoko had already moved back to the controls to free the second. The first crawled over and scooped the second into her arms, holding her and crooning softly while I healed her injuries. Soon, all three sirens were huddled together on the floor, trembling.
I looked around for blankets or spare clothing, but found nothing. The sirens didn’t appear to care. The first one stood, completely unselfconscious. “Where are we?”
“The New Millennium complex outside of Las Vegas,” I said. “The middle of Nevada.”
She shuddered, though I suspect it was mostly at the idea of being stuck in the middle of a desert. “Are there others?”
“I don’t think so. Not here.”
‹Isaac, it’s Talulah. We may have another problem.›
‹Of course we do.› Lena moved in as I stepped away. Bi Wei had vanished. I hadn’t even gotten the chance to thank her. ‹What happened?›
‹We have bombers incoming. I’m tapping into military communications. It sounds like they’ve been ordered to level New Millennium.›
I turned to the others. “McGinley can’t afford witnesses. He’s called in a bombing run.”
“The wards on this place ought to keep any bombs out,” said Charles.
“He’s ordering me to open the main gate,” said Kiyoko.
I stared at her. “How is he—right, one of your clones is with him. Charles, is our military good enough to put a rocket through our front door? I’m going to take your uncharacteristic silence as a yes. They set off that first bomb, bust open our walls from the inside—”
“He has determined I’m no longer enslaved by his programming.” Kiyoko jerked back as if she’d been slapped. “He has now terminated my clone.”
“Are you all right?” Lena asked, moving toward Kiyoko.
“It’s disconcerting.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. I’d killed several of her clones, at least one in a particularly painful way.
The centermost siren cleared her throat. “Would someone explain what the salty fuck is going on?”
“We’re going to get you home,” I said. “Give me a day or two to reconstruct the Gateway Project, and I’ll deliver you directly into the Atlantic or anywhere else you’d like to go. But before I can do that, I have to stop McGinley.”
“I believe I can help with that,” said Kiyoko. “I am, in most respects, a living computer. I have video files of his murder of me just now, along with many other incriminating actions and conversations, including his orders to assassinate Senator Alexander Keeler.”
“Magically recorded evidence won’t hold up in court,” said Charles.
“It doesn’t have to!” I whooped.
‹Isaac, are you one hundred percent sure we can trust her?› asked Charles.
‹Nope. That’s part of how freedom works. Talulah, how long until the bombers get here?›
‹Ten minutes? Maybe less?›
‹Thanks. Stand by.› I clenched my jaw and dialed a number from memory.
“This is Agent Steinkamp.”
“Hello, Agent. This is Isaac Vainio. We met in Lansing.”
“I remember. Where are you, Vainio? You’re wanted for—”
“In nine minutes, the U.S. military is going to drop a lot of bombs on New Millennium. I’m hoping our wards will protect us, but I’d rather not take that chance, so I wanted to offer you a trade. You get in touch with someone who can call off that attack, and in return, I’ll send you a data dump of video files showing DHS Secretary Lawrence McGinley conspiring to commit murder, terrorism, and other war crimes, along with information on his coconspirators.”
There was a long pause. “That’s quite the accusation. If you could come by the Detroit office—”
“Eight minutes, thirty seconds. Keep an eye on your email.” I hung up and smiled grimly. “Kiyoko, would you please email one of those clips to [email protected]? Something short and incriminating, if possible. We’re on a tight schedule.”
“What if Steinkamp’s involved?” asked Charles.
“Not everyone is out to get us.” ‹Talulah, how long would it take you to find out who’s in charge of the bombing operation and get their contact number to Agent Steinkamp?›
‹On it.›
“The email has been sent,” said Kiyoko.
“Thank you. Can you override the gate controls and make sure nobody else tries to open our front door?”
“I’ve been relaying our conversation to Babs Palmer. She and I will ensure that New Millennium remains protected.”
“Excellent.” I sagged against a support pillar and took Lena’s hand. “Now we wait.”
CONSPIRACY IN THE CAPITAL: SECRETARY OF HOMELAND SECURITY ARRESTED
The FBI arrested Secretary of Homeland Security Lawrence McGinley yesterday at 2:45 p.m. McGinley is accused of orchestrating a series of murders earlier this month in California, Oklahoma, Michigan, and New York. He allegedly ordered the assassination of Senator Alexander Keeler, chairman of the Joint Committee on Magical Security, as well as a prison guard named Oscar Franklin, Jr.
This comes immediately following the resignation of Thomas M. Hayes, Commandant of the U. S. Coast Guard. Hayes has confessed to ordering an attack on a group of sirens off the Atlantic Coast. He claims McGinley blackmailed him, but says he was unaware of the full extent of the Secretary’s plans.
Details of those plans remain unknown at this time, though McGinley is believed by many to have had a role in an attempted terrorist attack at the New Millennium site in Las Vegas, Nevada.
At least one of McGinley’s would-be terrorists remains at large. Kiyoko Itô, who previously served as one of McGinley’s assistants, is said to have taken refuge within New Millennium. This contradicts earlier accounts that Itô had been murdered in Washington, D.C.
A spokesperson for the FBI says they are continuing to review the evidence, and to question those in custody. They expect to issue a more detailed statement within the hour. An anonymous source within the FBI suggests this statement will implicate high-ranking figures from several other countries in what looks to have been an international conspiracy.
I KNOCKED ON THE door and waited. This was a run-down neighborhood, and the small house was in dire need of repair. The shingles were rotting away, one of the windows was boarded over, and the lawn was an overgrown mess. How long had it been since this family could afford the upkeep on their home?
“They might not be home.” Nidhi stood behind me.
Technically, I shouldn’t have been here at all. I was still wanted for any number of things, including destruction of Coast Guard property and however they wanted to classify my break-in to an illegal secret prison.
“If they’re not home, we’ll wait.” I knocked again.
The door opened. The man in the doorway flinched when he recognized me.
“Mister Blackburn. Are your wife and son home this morning?”
He didn’t answer right away. I didn’t need Nidhi’s insight to recognize the conflict on his face. The last time he’d seen me was after the Joint Committee hearing, when I’d refused to help his son Caleb.
He’d probably heard the news about me and New Millennium. He kept looking past me, checking up and down the street like he was searching for the police. “What do you want?”
Beneath his exhaustion and pain, I heard hope. Hope, and the fear of letting himself hope. “I’m here to help your boy. Hypoplastic left heart syndrome, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s right.” He nodded hard, then stepped to one side. “Come in.”
A corpulent corgi waddled up to sniff us both. The dog barked once, then trotted off, its duty as a watchdog done.
“Louise?” Mr. Blackburn called out. “Get
Caleb and get out here!”
Paper jack-o’-lanterns decorated the walls. A family photo above the couch showed Mr. Blackburn and his wife, along with their son Caleb and a second boy, this one a few years older. I guessed he was the artist who’d created the Halloween decorations.
Mrs. Blackburn emerged from the hallway, Caleb following close behind. She froze when she saw me.
“He says he’s here to fix Caleb,” her husband said.
She put a hand down to keep Caleb behind her. “Is it safe?”
I sat down on the old carpet and pulled out a polished wooden pen. “This used to be a sword named Woundhealer. Its power comes from a book by a man named Fred Saberhagan. It will heal his heart, and any other injuries. That’s all. No side effects, no follow-up. Nothing but a healthy boy with a long life ahead of him.”
“How did you find us?” she asked.
I cocked my head. “Magic librarian, remember?”
They looked at one another, communicating as effectively without words as Talulah did with her telepathy. The father nodded and said, “Do it. What do you need? Will it hurt?”
“It shouldn’t hurt at all. Could you take Caleb’s shirt off for me?” I winked at Caleb. “It might tickle, though.”
A scar down the center of Caleb’s chest showed where surgeons had tried to fix his heart. Caleb clung to his mother’s hand with one of his own and sucked the knuckles of his other. He seemed not so much anxious as resigned. How many times had this kid been poked and prodded and examined in his short life?
I twirled the pen through my fingers. “We want your heart to be happy, right?”
He nodded warily.
“Great. I’m gonna draw a smiley face right over your heart.” I frowned and rubbed my chin. “Can you remind me where your heart is?”
He shook his head.
I poked his foot. “Is it in here?”
He shook his head again, but I saw a trace of a smile.
“What about your armpit? Is that where you keep your heart?”
He shook his head again, pulled his hand out of his mouth, and touched his chest.
“Oh, right. That’s a good place for it. Very traditional.” I brought the pen to his chest and drew two quick circles for eyes, then a larger arc for the smile. The eyes ended up lopsided, and the smile was too wide, more like the Joker from Batman than a traditional happy face, but it didn’t matter.
I capped the pen, tucked it away, and studied Caleb over the top of my new glasses to make sure the magic was active. “All set.”
“That . . . that’s it?” asked Louise. “That’s all it takes?”
“How do we know he’s really better?” asked her husband.
“Take him for a checkup,” said Nidhi. “They’ll want to run a number of tests. Let them do as many as it takes for you to be sure, and then take Caleb and his brother out to celebrate.”
“I recommend ice cream,” I added.
Caleb’s father was crying silently. His mother just stared, like it hadn’t sunk in yet. As for Caleb, he’d pulled away and run back down the hall to play.
“You said it was illegal,” Louise whispered. “The other week, when we asked you for help. Will you get into trouble? Will we? Will they try to take Caleb away from us?”
“I’m already in trouble.” I stood and stretched. “I’ve decided I don’t give a— I’ve decided I don’t care. When the doctors ask, tell them I broke into your house and healed him without your permission. Everyone saw that video clip after the hearing. They saw how frustrated I was. You had nothing to do with it.”
“If you have any trouble, call us,” said Nidhi.
“Anywhere, any time. I’ll be able to get to you.” I grinned. “I’ve almost got my teleporter back up and running again.”
Mr. Blackburn grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t—didn’t do this before.” I watched him and his wife step back, their arms slipping around one another. “And thank you.”
“What for?” asked Mrs. Blackburn.
I smiled. “For letting me know I made the right decision.”
I waved to Marion as we drove through the front gates. I’d left Babs in charge of security while I was away. We’d given Darlene Jackson-Palmer a permanent apartment on site for as long as she wanted. I still had to talk to Babs about the ghosts in the walls, but that was one of many conversations Babs and I needed to hash out, and I wanted at least one day to recover before diving into my new job running New Millennium.
Lena was waiting for us at the parking lot. She kissed us both, slipped between us, and hooked her arms through ours. “Well?”
“We met with Nicola,” said Nidhi. “She’ll be staying in D.C. She believes the Porters have an important role to play in the world. But she and Vaughn are going to try to legalize this place.”
“Normally, there’s no way anyone would even consider it,” I said. “But between the black eye the country’s sporting thanks to McGinley’s crimes and the fact that they don’t have the physical ability to force us out, he thinks we might have a shot. He’s going to write a bill that would treat New Millennium like a reservation.”
In the past three days, we’d had close to three hundred people ask to make New Millennium their home, with more requests coming in every day.
Off to the right, two harpies played Frisbee sixty feet in the air. A group of young werewolves were tearing along the inner edge of the wall, dust and gravel spraying from their paws. A vampire and a libriomancer sat on a bench outside the newly converted DeGeorge Orientation Center, arguing over a book.
I’d offered Rabbi Miller a position in the DeGeorge Center, helping new arrivals, but he’d turned me down. For now, one of the Kiyokos was overseeing things. Twenty-three clones had come to live at New Millennium. If my math was right, that left at least half a dozen scattered across the world. When I asked Kiyoko if the rest of her sisters would be joining us, she simply smiled and said she wanted to see the world.
“How long before the two of you fly back to Michigan?” I asked.
“Tomorrow evening,” said Nidhi. “I have clients scheduled for the day after.”
I tried to keep my disappointment from showing. “Makes sense. And Lena needs to get back to her oak. The one she grew in the old server room isn’t the same, I know.”
“It kind of is,” said Lena. “I grew it from the wood inside my body, and that wood comes from my oak in Michigan. It’s a young clone. You’re right, though. It’s too young and small to sustain me, and we’ve got to get it transplanted somewhere with sun and soil.”
“I’ll see what we can do. Maybe when it’s grown, you’ll be able to stay longer.”
They looked at one another. Lena kissed Nidhi’s hand and said, “You could try one of those shrinking potions. It would be a lot easier to remove a tree the size of a bonsai. Then you’d just remove the magic and restore it to its proper size.”
“Makes sense. I’ll have to figure out how best to get an oak tree to drink a magic potion.”
“Once you’ve done that,” Lena continued, “it should be easy enough to do the same with my oak back in Michigan.”
I stopped walking. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not about to trust some commercial service to transport my tree from Michigan to Nevada.” She grinned and stepped off the sidewalk. “What would you think of a greenhouse over past the western residential building? The crops would help feed your expanding population.”
I hadn’t moved. “You’re talking about moving here?”
“For someone so smart, you can be slow on the uptake sometimes.” She blew me a kiss.
“What about Nidhi?”
“I’ll need a few weeks to close out my cases in Michigan,” said Nidhi. “But I think I could make this work. With all the different cultures and backgrounds you’re bringing into these walls, you’ll need a mental health professional on staff. Especially with the fellow who�
�s running things.”
“Hey, now,” I said, but she just chuckled. “Yah, you’re right. If you have other therapists you’d recommend, I’ll take all the help I can get. We’ve got members from three different werewolf packs squabbling about status. There’s the proposed ‘exchange program’ between us and the Students of Bi Sheng. Any number of people here have lost friends or loved ones in all the fighting over the past year. I can talk to Kiyoko about living quarters. I’m not sure where the best place for Lena’s oak would be. We should probably bring in some healthier soil, and we’ll need to irrigate—”
“You’re babbling,” Lena said, laughing.
“You’re damn right!” I walked over and threw my arms around her. “How long have you two been talking about this?”
“Since you gave me Gutenberg’s book,” said Nidhi.
I swallowed. “Thank you. Thank you both.”
“It’s not just about you.” Lena turned away. “I’ve been going out these past few nights, while the two of you were in D.C.”
“We should do that more often,” I agreed. “I can’t stand the crowds at the casinos, and traffic’s a nightmare, but there are some great shows—”
“That’s not what I meant. I kept thinking about Oscar Franklin in Virginia. The wrongness I felt from what he’d been doing.” She shuddered. “I’ve been walking the streets at night or wandering through the hotels. Vegas is quite the sexually active city. Twice so far, I’ve sensed that same wrongness, that utter perversion of what should be a beautiful thing. Once was a man beating a prostitute. The other was a drunk boyfriend.”
I glanced at Nidhi, who shook her head ever so slightly. This was news to her as well.
“What did you do?” asked Nidhi.
“I stopped them. I made sure the victims were all right, and then I offered to help them get home, or to go with them to the police if they wanted. Neither of them did.” She shook her head. “I know having a vigilante running loose isn’t the publicity New Millennium needs, but I feel like this is something I have to do.”