The Collected Christopher Connery

by L. EE

  Gail glared at him. “Do you have a better idea? Anyway, it’ll hardly touch her and it’s in my coat.” I’ll have to boil it before I wear it again. “We could stuff it inside your jacket if you prefer, but I’m guessing you don’t.”

  Though his face didn’t grow any less judgmental, Arthur knelt and helped hold the coat still, so Gail could wedge the arms inside one by one. Even after they were fully tucked inside, they jutted out at strange stiff angles, but pulled over Gail and Arthur’s shoulders, they’d look realistic enough.

  Arthur continued to grimace, but he leaned closer, studying Nia critically. “We’ll have to make sure her arms stay out of sight. A four-armed woman won’t look any more normal than a pair of man-less arms.”

  “Good point.” Gail bent Nia’s arms behind her back, taking care to be gentle with the injured hand. Nia mumbled a little, but didn’t wake up, so Gail loosely tied her wrists together with the strip of cloth she had been using as earmuffs. Hopefully, Nia wouldn’t wake up and think they were kidnapping her. Then Gail buttoned the coat to the chin, glad the garment was long enough to hide most of the bloodstained nightgown.

  She glanced at Arthur. “Convincing?”

  He made another face.

  “That helps.”

  “Gloves.”

  “Huh?”

  “We need gloves. Connery was paler than Nia.”

  True. Gail scowled for a moment at the too-light hands poking from the sleeves then she held out her own hand toward Arthur.

  He took a step back. “What?”

  “Oh, come on, I know you’ve got them on you. Hand them over.” She thought for a moment. “Was that a pun?”

  “I don’t even know anymore,” Arthur said mournfully as he pulled a pair of fine leather driving gloves from his pocket and gave them to Gail. “I’ll never be able to wear those again.”

  “He’s inside my coat, so I don’t want to hear any complaining.” Gail said as she worked the gloves over Connery’s stiff fingers.

  With the pigment issue corrected, the disguise was about as convincing as it was going to get.

  “Okay.” Gail climbed clumsily to her feet, one of Connery’s arms pulled around her neck. She could feel the fabric of the coat straining to support Nia’s weight. “Let’s hurry. If this whole thing rips apart in the middle of the lobby, we’ll be in a river of shit.”

  Arthur gingerly pulled the other arm over his shoulder, wincing when Connery’s gloved hand brushed his face. “This is going to look ridiculous,” he said as they made their way toward the basement stairs with slow precise steps.

  “Nah,” said Gail. “It just looks like we’re helping our dear friend to bed after an exciting afternoon. Or it looks like we’re arresting her, but either way, I don’t think anyone will pay much attention.” The one good thing about their ordeal inside Connery’s illusion was they were no longer remotely recognizable as the finely dressed Illuminator and her assistants. “We just have to move fast.”

  Arthur snorted in response, but he did make an effort to walk a little more naturally, wrapping his other arm around Nia’s waist to keep her upright. Meanwhile, Gail put on her best “what the hell are you looking at?” cop scowl to deter any onlookers from staring for too long.

  That worked until they made it to the second floor corridor when Arthur, tripping over a rucked bit of rug, fell to his knees. Feeling the fabric of her coat pull precariously tight, Gail dropped down to his level.

  “We have to get up!” she whispered harshly to Arthur, knowing that any minute someone could step into the hallway. How the hell were they gonna explain why they were hunched over with Nia’s arms stretched between them like she was made of taffy?

  “I’m trying, I’m trying! But her arm’s coming loose.”

  Gail leaned forward so she could see Arthur’s face around Nia. He stared at her with a wild-eyed panic that would have been funny under other circumstances. “What?”

  “Not her arm, his arm. It’s coming loose.”

  From this angle, Gail could see what he meant. Apparently her poor old coat was more elastic than she thought and Connery’s left arm was beginning to slide through the sleeve. For the moment, only a thin line of dead flesh was visible above the gloves, but judging by the way Arthur was clutching the arm, it wouldn’t be long before the whole limb came sliding out.

  “It’s going to be fine, doc. We just need to work together.”

  Arthur gave her a clench-jawed nod in response.

  “Okay, on the count of three. One, two –”

  “Do you need help?”

  Shit. “Hold her,” Gail whispered to Arthur. She slipped out from under the arm on her side, tucked it as close as she could to Nia’s side, and stood up to deal with the helpful nuisance. “Hi, no, we’re all right, we just – holy shit, Xavier, is that you?”

  “Gail?” Xavier Rivers, resident of the Gracetown neighborhood of Westbridge – so named because it was in western Gracetown and contained a bridge – was a big man, broad-shouldered and barrel-chested with arms that looked like they could break a back with a single squeeze.

  Luckily, he was also one of the nicest bastards Gail had ever met.

  Breathing out a long sigh of relief, she caught him in an awkward one-armed hug, jostling the trumpet he held in his right hand. “What the hell are you doing here, Xavier?”

  Xavier held up the trumpet.

  “I thought you gave that up to teach full time.”

  “School’s out for the rainy season and the band pays the bills.” He leaned around her to look at Arthur who currently had Nia bundled against his chest like he was hoping he could squish her down small enough to fit in his pocket. “What’s going on?”

  “It’s kind of confidential. Academy business.” Arthur was staring at her like she was out of her mind, but Gail knew Xavier could be trusted. She’d helped him out a few years back with a shitbag stalker named Eric Wayne. When Wayne’d started leaving dead animals artistically arranged on Xavier’s doorstep, Xavier had gone to the police, afraid that Wayne would start going after the kids Xavier taught next. Naturally, the police hadn’t done shit, but working together, he and Gail had managed to collar the asshole just before he did exactly what Xavier had feared he would. “I’d explain, but you know.”

  “Gotcha,” said Xavier without batting an eye. “Still, looks like you could use a hand.”

  “You could say that. Our associate here – uh – got into a bit of a scrape. She could use some help getting back to her room.”

  Xavier didn’t ask any questions – bless you, buddy – just waited patiently while Gail quickly freed Nia from her coat, letting the garment fall to the hotel floor, extra arms and all. He only whistled softly under his breath when he saw Nia’s blood-soaked nightgown. “Damn, is she all right?”

  “She’ll be okay. She’s a magician and her brother here is a doctor.”

  Still sitting dumbstruck on the floor with his mouth hanging open, Arthur didn’t look particularly professional, but Xavier didn’t express any doubts. He got down on his knees and said to Arthur, “Is it okay if I carry her? I promise I’ll be careful.”

  “I –” Arthur glanced at Gail, who nodded back at him. “Yes, of course, just… be careful of her head.”

  Setting down his trumpet, Xavier gathered Nia in his arms as gently as a doting father lifting his baby daughter. “Where’s her room?”

  Arthur finally pulled himself together and scrambled upright. “This way. I’ll show you.”

  While Arthur was doing that, Gail quickly snatched up the arms, bundling them up in her coat before following. When she reached Nia and Arthur’s room, Xavier was setting Nia on the bed while Arthur watched. As she stepped into the room, Gail put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder and whispered a quick, “Don’t worry, he’s decent, trust me,” then went up to Xavier.

  “Thanks, Xave, I appreciate it.”

  “No problem.” He glanced down at the awkward bundle under her arm. “I take it tha
t’s Academy business too?”

  “Nah, just a new hobby.”

  Arthur’s eyes practically bulged out of his head at that comment, but Xavier just laughed.

  “All right, I’ll get out of your hair.” Before going, he gave Gail a proper hug, patting her warmly on the back before releasing her. “You going to be around for a bit? It’s been what, six months since we got together?”

  “Something like that. I’m on the clock just now, but I’ll find you when I’ve got some free time.”

  Xavier smiled. “Great.” He jerked a thumb back toward the hall. “I better go get my instrument before someone walks off with it.” But he took a moment to lightly pat Nia’s still hand. “Feel better, ma’am.” He inclined his head politely to Arthur on his way out.

  “Ever heard of ‘thank you?’” Gail asked when the door had closed behind Xavier and she began trying to work Connery’s arms free of her coat.

  “Who was that?” Arthur demanded, disappearing into the bathroom to wash his hands before tending to Nia.

  “An old friend. He plays with a band sometimes. I forgot they worked hotels. Don’t worry, he won’t spread any rumors.” Bracing her foot on the center of her coat, she yanked back hard on the arms and they slid free of the sleeves, leaving her standing in the center of the room with a severed arm in each hand. She sighed and made them wave at her. “Hi, Connery, I still hate you.”

  “I don’t know how you can stand to touch those things,” said Arthur with revulsion as he strode from the bathroom, drying his hands on a towel.

  Gail shrugged as Arthur set to work cleaning Nia’s injured hand with a sharp-smelling cotton swab. “They’re a bit gross I guess, but they’re not bleeding everywhere or anything.” She made one wave at Arthur too. “Hiya.”

  “I’d say they’re more than just ‘a bit gross,’ but that’s not the issue.” He frowned down at Nia’s hand, gently pressing on the angry red skin with the cotton swab. “This could use stitching, but since she’ll probably fix it when she wakes up, I’ll just wrap it for now.”

  “What is the issue then?” Gail asked curiously as Arthur began winding clean white bandages around Nia’s hand. “With the arms I mean.”

  “There’s magic coming off of them. I don’t know what Connery did to them to keep them from – going off, but it must have been something foul, because –” He actually shuddered. “It’s cold. And I bet it would taste awful if I could taste anything besides aniseed.”

  Gail laughed. “Is that still going on?”

  “I imagine it will be until Nia wakes up and takes the spell off.” Arthur rolled his eyes, but his hands were gentle as he carefully taped the bandages onto Nia’s hand and moved on to the wound on her upper arm.

  Pursing her lips, Gail studied the arms in her hands carefully. “I don’t feel anything.”

  “You’re a layman. Though if I had to guess, I bet Nia doesn’t feel it so strongly either, because she knows how to block it out. I’m not a full magician, so I never learned. Lucky me.”

  Nia made a soft sound in her sleep and her arm twitched away from Arthur’s hand as he peeled the blood-soaked cloth from her skin.

  “Sorry, Ni,” he murmured.

  Gail watched Arthur delicately clean dried blood from the wound before realizing she was still holding Connery’s arms. Guess these might as well go under the bed. Dunno where else we’d hide them. She bent down, lifted the bed skirt, and almost had a heart attack when she saw a pair of eyes staring back at her. Then she realized who it had to be. Getting down on her hands and knees, she reached under the bed and pulled out Connery’s head.

  “Looks like he didn’t go anywhere after all. You must have hid him under here before you left the room.”

  “I really don’t remember doing that,” Arthur replied, “but I guess it’s good we found him.” He turned to get more bandages from the case on the bedside table, but paused to give Gail an exasperated look. “Can you please put him away?”

  “Right. Yeah, sure.” A little sheepishly, Gail rolled first the head and the arms back under the bed.

  Arthur finished wrapping the wound on Nia’s arm then glanced at Gail. “I’m sorry if I was rude to your friend.”

  Gail waved it off. “Xavier won’t care. I’ll introduce you both properly sometime if you like.”

  She got a small smile in response, then Arthur said, “I’m going to change her clothes and put her to bed.”

  Some surprise must have shown on her face because, he gave her an exasperated look. “I’m her half-brother and a doctor. You don’t have to look so scandalized.”

  “I wasn’t – wait, you’re only her half-brother?”

  Arthur made an unmistakable shit, you weren’t supposed to know that face, but didn’t try any bullshitting. “Yes, technically. We have the same father – well, more accurately, the same preserved genetic sample was used to fertilize our mothers’ eggs. Illuminator Graves – Nia’s mother, I mean – carried us both to term, so we share her name, but she and I had no genetic connection. Technically, Nia and I are both twins and half-siblings.”

  Gail had heard a bit about that. The Academy saved the genetic material of especially gifted magicians to spice up the gene pool if future kids got a little lackluster.

  “We actually have several other half-siblings,” Arthur continued, “but since Nia and I were born together, we grew up together. We slept in the same cradle until we were four. It was only after –” This time he caught himself before spilling the beans and Gail, not wanting to pry into family business, let it lie.

  “I gotcha. Mostly, anyway.” Gail stretched her arms over her head, feeling her spine creak in protest. “How about I go get washed up while you take care of her? I’ll come back after, though. I’d like us to stay together at least until she wakes up, just in case anything else goes nuts.”

  Arthur nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

  Gail took one last look at Nia, still dead to world and looking awfully small slumped against the mass of pillows. Well, she got us out of that mess, but it doesn’t look like it came easy. Maybe this awful adventure would convince the Illuminator that this investigation was a bad fucking idea, but Gail had already learned not to be optimistic. Despite looking like she ought to be wearing flowers in her hair and reclining on silk cushions, Nia was stubborn as a brick wall. Like it or not, Gail had a feeling she’d be looking for Connery tomorrow too.

  Lucky her. At least the case seemed to be moving quick.

  When she got back to her room, she sat down hard on the bed and pulled out her tight braid. She winced as she ran her fingers through her hair. Her scalp had that tight achy feeling it only got when she forgot to take her hair down before falling asleep. She glanced at the clock. Almost noon. And judging by her aching head, they hadn’t been gone less than an hour.

  “Damn it, we lost a whole day.” She wondered how she was supposed to explain that in her report to the Academy. Actually, on second thought, forget explaining anything. Gail would just write “and then some magic bullshit happened” and leave it at that. If they wanted more details, they could ask Nia.

  Shoving herself up, she made herself plod to the bathroom, though she wanted nothing more than to flop face-first on the bed and catch up on sleep. She tried to undo the buttons of her shirt, but her fingers were trembling with hunger and lack of sleep, so she gave up and yanked it over her head.

  She felt a bit more human after a shower, though she could’ve still probably slept for a year. But she stood by what she had said to Arthur; they had to stay together, just in case Connery wasn’t done with them. She could catch a nap in the Graves’ room if she really needed to. She got dressed in another set of work clothes, making sure to buckle her holster tightly around her waist.

  “Better safe than sorry,” she murmured.

  She braided her hair over one shoulder and returned to the bathroom to grab her toothbrush, just in case she had to spend the night on the magicians’ floor.

&n
bsp; Nothing like the glamorous life of a PI. As she dropped the toothbrush and a washcloth into her bag, her eyes caught on her reflection.

  There was blood on her cheeks.

  She blinked and it was gone, but the split-second vision was enough to send her rushing out of the bathroom.

  You’re just imagining things, she told herself as she strode across the hallway. You’ve had a long day with no sleep and no food, and now you’re imagining things.

  But she couldn’t quite stop herself from brushing her cheek with the back of her hand, testing for blood.

  25

  Nia Graves

  Someone was singing. No, Nia thought through the haze of fading sleep. No, I got us out. No, no, no. But the singing only grew louder and there was something heavy holding her down. When she tried to push it away, fingers closed on her wrist.

  The ocean of hands grabbed at her, trying to break her body like they had broken Arthur’s. Soon she would be crushed into that lurching flesh golem dragging itself across the ground on a hundred grasping fingers.

  No. No. She wrenched herself free of the squeezing fingers and pushed herself up to find – that she was sitting in bed. The thing weighing her down had been two layers of hotel comforters and the hand holding her wrist had belonged to Arthur. And judging by the way that hand was now pressed to his cheek, the arm she had knocked aside had actually been his face.

  “Oh dear, I’m sorry, Arthur.”

  “It’s fine.” He prodded his bottom lip with a finger. “Am I bleeding?”

  “Arthur!” Nia huffed. “I didn’t hit you that hard.”

  “I was the one who was hit, I think I would know better than you.” But he was smiling as he sat on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling? I’m sorry for startling you, but you seemed to be having a nightmare. I was trying to wake you.”

  The singing. Nia looked around the room. “I thought I head singing.”

  “That was me.”

  Nia turned her head and saw Gail sitting on the other side of the room, a newspaper open in her lap.