The Collected Christopher Connery

by L. EE

  “I need to finish this.” She walked back to her half-finished circle. “Then we can force it to stop.”

  “But why did it stop before?”

  “I don’t know,” Nia admitted, picking up her dropped chalk. “But we can’t count on it happening again.” She dropped to her knees and began to draw with even more urgency than before.

  Arthur sat down beside her and patted her knee lightly. “Let me see your leg.”

  “It’s fine, Arthur. We don’t have time –”

  “It’s not fine, you ripped the bandages and now you’re getting chalk and grit in the scrape. I can deal with it while you’re working, so stick it over here.”

  Nia huffed irritably, but her leg was beginning to burn a little. She shifted until she was sitting with her uninjured leg folded in front of her and the other extended toward Arthur. It made it slightly more difficult to bend over the spell, but she was nearly done.

  I’m nearly done, detective, she thought as hard as she could, hoping Gail could somehow hear her.

  Arthur carefully cleaned the scrape on Nia’s leg a second time. It stung, but she bit her lip and continued drawing.

  “Damn, Nia,” he said, shaking his head as he worked. “You sure did a job on yourself here.”

  “I hardly noticed it.”

  Arthur raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything, choosing to continue silently with his work. By the time he was finished, Nia’s left leg was again wrapped knee to ankle in bandages. Drawing the leg back under her, she reached out and added the last touches to the center of the circle.

  “Can I tell you something?” Arthur said.

  “Hm?” Just a few more lines now.

  “You have the absolute worst timing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you know how long I was sitting over there pretending to count bandages?”

  “Pretending to –” Nia’s face flamed. “How did you –”

  Arthur silenced her with an eyebrow. “How did I know? Mostly because I’m not blind and deaf, Nia.”

  “Oh, shut up.” Impossibly, Nia felt a smile tugging at her lips. She glanced back at Arthur as she finished the last of the shading. “Was I terribly obvious?”

  “Terribly,” Arthur answered with a smile. “But it looks like it worked out in the end.”

  Again, Nia was struck by the memory of Gail’s hand against her cheek. The blush drained from her face as her stomach tightened in a cold knot.

  Arthur touched her arm. “We’ll find her, Ni.”

  “I know we will.” Nia drew a final line through the center of the circle. “And this is how.”

  “What should I do?” asked Arthur as he scrambled to his feet.

  “Stand back. There’s a chance I might have to enter the train to get her back. If that happens –”

  “No.”

  “Arthur –”

  “No.” Arthur scowled at her with that immovable stubbornness Mother had always complained of them sharing. “If we have to get on the train, then we get on the train, but we go together. What good am I here by myself? I can’t get out, I can’t go down the tunnels without getting flattened, I can’t do any magic.” He crossed his arms. “All I can do is go with you.”

  He’s right. “Very well. We go together. Are you ready?”

  Arthur gripped his bag tightly. “I’m ready.”

  “Good.” Nia held out her hand. “Then can you lend me a few dollars? I didn’t bring any money with me.”

  Arthur stared at her as he dug uncertainly into his pocket, coming up with a crumpled bill and a few coins. “This is all I have. Why do you…?”

  “Because,” said Nia with a grim smile, triggering the spell with a scuff of her shoe as she walked toward the edge of the platform. The chalk lines began to glow with greenish light as she threw the money down on to the tracks. “We have to pay our fare.”

  42

  Gail Lin

  The bull was angry. Gail, lying weak as watersickness in its belly, could hear the rage in its huffing breath, in the shriek of its hooves against the ground. She didn’t know why it was angry and it didn’t matter. All she cared about was the distraction its rage provided.

  For a long time – days, weeks, years? – she hadn’t been able to think through the pain. The flashes of clarity were vastly outnumbered by long periods of blackness, and whenever she woke up, she was somewhere different. After a while, she realized she was moving up the bull’s many stomachs, crawling through them one by one while her mind fled the pain in her body. This revelation came about when she woke from another trip down the well of agony and found herself hanging between two of the stomachs, the darkness shrieking past her head like a thousand angry ghosts. The bull felt her then and tried to buck her off. If she had fallen in any direction besides forward, she would have been crushed against the tunnel wall, but she’d been lucky.

  But from then on, the bull seemed more aware of her presence. It had swallowed her without a thought, but now it seemed to feel her crawling in its guts. Often, the doors in its stomach – Doors? How can it have doors in its stomach? – would fly open and the screaming darkness would try to drag her out.

  She held on, but she didn’t dare continue to the bull’s brain. Yes, that’s where she was going, she knew that now. If she could just reach the beast’s brain, she could stop it, but now she was too clumsy with pain. If she tried to crawl to another stomach now, the bull would throw her down and trample her. Unless…

  Unless she could make use of its anger. Roaring, it raced toward whatever had angered it. Thinking too hard on what had incensed the beast threatened to knock her into blackness again, so she gave up on thought for simple movement.

  I don’t have much time.

  She could feel her life buzzing inside her like a mosquito caught under a glass. For now she was filled with desperate vitality, but soon, very soon, she would be little more than a lifeless bag of flesh crumpled in a screaming metal tomb.

  But she would get to the brain first.

  43

  Nia Graves

  When Nia heard the distant rumble of the train again, she took Arthur’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Whatever happens, we stay together, all right?”

  Arthur’s jaw was clenched tightly, perhaps with determination, perhaps with fear, but he nodded and tightened his grip on Nia’s hand.

  The scream of the train’s wheels sounded slightly different as it raced toward them.

  It knows, Nia thought immediately. Whatever consciousness Connery had imbued this magic with – and all magic was necessarily imbued with some level of consciousness – could clearly feel Nia’s spells pulling at it, dragging it onward against its will. That was one thing, perhaps the only thing, they had in their favor. Connery was a genius at designing these kind of traps, but he couldn’t make them unbeatable, not if he wished to be found and restored to life. There had to be an off-switch, no matter how well hidden.

  The train roared into the station at such speed that Nia’s hair was blown across her face and for a breathless instant, she was afraid it wouldn’t stop, but then, with clear reluctance, it screamed to a halt. By the time it had stopped entirely, only its back half remained in the station. After another moment, its doors creaked partway open.

  “Now, Arthur!”

  “What do you mean ‘now?’”

  Deciding he wasn’t actually expecting an answer, Nia raced toward the train, turning sideways to shimmy through the partly opened doors. When she made it through, she stumbled and fell on the dirty floor, losing her grip on Arthur’s hand. Grimacing, she got up, wiping ineffectually at the dust on her skirt and jacket. The lights flickered threateningly and the train began to vibrate beneath her feet.

  “Nia!”

  Turning, she saw Arthur trying to fight his way through the doors. After Nia had stumbled through, they had closed slightly and his jacket buttons had gotten caught. As the train lurched into motion again, he nearly slid backwards ont
o the tracks, but Nia grabbed his arm and yanked him into the train. Two buttons tore loose from his jacket and bounced violently off of the floor and wall. Then the doors slammed with such violence that if Arthur had still been standing between them, he would have been cut in half.

  “I don’t think it wants us here,” Arthur said, lying on the floor, chest heaving.

  “No.” Nia held out her hands to Arthur and he took them, getting clumsily to his feet and grabbing one of the handrails as soon as he was upright.

  “I don’t see Gail.”

  “No, she must be in a car farther ahead.” The train turned sharply and she fell back against the edge of the seats. The plastic dug hard into the back of her legs. “We’re in nearly the last car.”

  “Then how are we going to find her?”

  That’s a very good question. “Do you know any way of stopping the train manually?”

  Arthur shook his head, wincing when another turned jarred him violently sideways. “Not from here. We would have to get to the first car.”

  Nia held on tightly to the edge of the seat as the train shuddered again. “Fortunately, the train only seems to be nine or ten cars long. We can make it.”

  Arthur stared at her. “You want to jump from car to car?”

  “There’s no other way.” Now it felt like the train was shaking with laughter at her expense. “There are spells I use to slow it down, but the layered spells won’t allow me to stop it completely until we have Connery in hand.”

  The train gave another violent lurch and for a moment, Nia was afraid Arthur would be sick, which would have done nothing to improve the already unpleasant smell of the car, but then he took a deep breath and said, “Fine, but let’s go quickly before I lose my nerve.”

  Nodding, Nia pulled out her notebook and quickly sketched the spells she needed. She had never been more grateful for her years of training. Though the train lurched and bucked beneath her like a living thing, she was able to keep her hand steady, drawing the spells with short sharp lines. The only interruption came when a particularly violent lurch knocked her face against one of the metal poles. She rubbed her cheek, hoping she hadn’t gotten a black eye and returned to drawing.

  The lights flickered wildly. Taking a quick break from the slowing spells, she pulled a piece of chalk from her cuff and drew a circle on the seat beside her. Slowly, as though they objected to exerting the effort, the lights stopped flickering and shone with a dim but constant light. She could feel Connery’s magic gathering hatefully around her, resenting her intrusion, and she smiled grimly.

  Beside her, Arthur had chosen the floor as the safest place to be, clinging to the seats behind him to keep from sliding down the aisle. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” She drew one final line with the pencil, then gathered up the spells. She gazed down the aisle at the door to the next car. It seemed to glower back at her, daring her to try and pass. “Gail needs our help.”

  Arthur didn’t reply immediately, but there was a great deal of shuffling, scraping, and cursing behind her as he battled gravity. Then, finally, “Let’s go find her then.” He took her hand and together the two of them fought to the front of the car one step at a time.

  We’re coming, detective, Nia thought as she grabbed another handrail. Please hold on a little longer.

  44

  Gail Lin

  The mosquito living in Gail’s skull was growing more sluggish by the second. She had managed to claw her way to the second stomach while the bull was distracted, but when the beast had slid to a sudden stop, she had been thrown forward, striking her head against the hard floor.

  Why does its stomach have a floor? But instead of hurting, this question made her laugh. That was about all she had strength for anyway. She didn’t think she could stand.

  The bull was moving again, its charge even wilder than before. It tossed its head savagely, dragging its horns against side of the tunnel and smashing weakened bits of track beneath its heavy hooves.

  The brain wasn’t far ahead. She could feel it pulsing with red burning thoughts. If she could only reach it and put them out, then maybe… She was halfway to her knees when she felt something snap in her chest. Choking and coughing, she fell on to her elbows. When she lifted her head, there was fresh blood on her sleeve.

  The mosquito’s wings vibrated weakly.

  Gail dragged herself forward.

  45

  Nia Graves

  Nia stretched out across the dark, shrieking abyss. The air bit roughly at her cheeks and hair, snatching at her clothes, trying to pull her down beneath the screaming wheels. She had managed to slow the train, but she could feel it straining to regain speed with each car they passed through.

  I have to move quickly.

  Arthur held tight to the back of her dress, which was honestly just complicating the process, but it made him feel better, so Nia tolerated it.

  Leaning out as far as she could, she felt the fabric of her dress stretching and straining. Honestly, Arthur if you rip my dress… Her fingers found the handle of the door to the next car. It resisted for a moment, then the door popped open. Pulling free of Arthur, Nia dragged herself across the hazardous gap and into the relative safety of the next car. A moment later, Arthur followed. He slammed the door behind him, wiping the sheen of sweat from his face.

  “Tell me we don’t have to do that again. Seven is enough.”

  “Unfortunately, if I’ve counted correctly, we have one more – Gail!”

  What Nia had at first taken for an abandoned trash bag at the far end of the car began to move, one hand stretching toward the opposite door handle before falling limply back to the floor.

  The slowing spell was beginning to weaken and the train was regaining its full speed, forcing Nia and Arthur to stagger slowly down the aisle towards Gail. Twice, the detective tried to rise before they reached her and twice she failed. When Nia and Arthur finally dropped to their knees beside her, she had been completely still for nearly minute.

  Arthur gently took Gail by both shoulders and turned her over on to her back. Nia’s hands flew to her mouth too late to stifle a dismayed cry. Gail’s eyes were open but fixed emptily at the ceiling. The gray of her skin contrasted starkly with the bright red blood running from her eyes and mouth.

  Please don’t let me be too late, not again. Nia didn’t realize she was trying to brush the blood tears from Gail’s face until Arthur gently moved her hands away. He lifted Gail’s arm and pushed back her sleeve until he could check the pulse on the inside of her elbow. After a moment that seemed to stretch on forever – until Nia thought she would scream if it didn’t end – he said, “She’s alive.”

  But not for long. “We have to get the magic out of her now or…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought.

  “But how do we do it?”

  “It’s not so difficult, but it requires –” Two magicians. One to control the transfer and one to receive the magic into themselves and filter it. “It requires…”

  A choking gasp burst from Gail’s throat and her body convulsed. Somewhere in the back of Nia’s head, a cool and collected voice began reciting the symptoms of excessive magical exposure in laymen. Uncontrolled manifestations of magic usually accompanied by pain, especially in the upper body and head. As deterioration progresses, the victim will begin to suffer breaks from reality, resulting in memory loss, somnamabulation, mood swings, and nightmares. Finally, they will go into convulsions, quickly followed by death.

  Arthur gripped her arm. When she turned her head, he looked directly into her eyes. “What do I have to do? I know the symptoms, but not how to fix it, so tell me what to do.”

  She had no choice. “I need you to be the receiver. Someone who can process magic needs to take on the excess. I would do it myself, but I need to be the mediator to move the magic between you and Gail. I can’t do both. Being the receiver isn’t dangerous, but it may be… uncomfortable.” This is no time to soften the truth. “Painful.
”

  Arthur nodded. “Let’s do it then.”

  “It may also weaken your binding.”

  That gave Arthur pause, his hand moving to the center of his chest. Then his hands tightened into a fist. “If it breaks, I’ll have to get it redone. Just make sure you tell them it wasn’t deliberate.”

  “Arthur, are you sure?” Binding was a hideously painful process. After the procedure, Arthur suffered years of terrible nightmares, dreams that left him shaking and sick. Even today, he sometimes unconsciously touched his chest in moments of disquiet. He had described it to her in his own words only once: It’s like someone ripping your rib cage open with their bare hands, fooling around with your insides, and then closing you up with a knitting needle and razor wire. And you have to stay awake for all of it or it starts over again. “Maybe we – maybe we could –”

  “Just do it before I change my mind.” Arthur sat back and closed his eyes. “Do it fast, Ni.”

  “I will, I will.” Yanking a piece of chalk from her sleeve, Nia drew one circle under Gail’s head, trying not to see how slack and dead her face looked. Then she drew another circle around Arthur before finishing with a third in the space between them.

  “Just relax and let the magic pass through you,” she told Arthur before beginning. “It will be uncomfortable to have so much magic moving into you, but if you relax, it will be easier. Think of it like someone pushing you on to a fluffy mattress. It’s easier to fall then push back.”

  One of Arthur’s eyes cracked open to look at her. “Was that supposed to be as dirty as it sounded?”

  “Oh, Arthur.”

  “No, then.” Arthur closed his eyes again, smile fading as he braced his hands on his knees. “All right, Nia, go on.”

  He’s right, we have no more time to waste. She held Gail’s head gently between her hands as she triggered the magic. When Nia’s fingers brushed against the clammy skin at Gail’s temples, the detective’s lips moved slightly murmuring broken phrases about a bull and a brain and a metal house filling with rain. None of it made any sense, but it filled Nia with icy dread even so.