The Collected Christopher Connery

by L. EE

  When he’d been spreading his blankets on the cushions, Gail had taken a moment to mention that she’d passed his letter onto Xavier. He’d made the kind of face she would have expected to see if she had pushed him out of a moving trolley, but he pulled himself together.

  “I don’t think he’s read it yet. Want me to ask for it back?”

  Arthur kept his eyes down as he smoothed his pillow. “No, he was going to read it at some point anyway. It might as well be now.”

  To further repay the cost of lodging them, Nia took time out of her location spell scribbling to do a bit of waterproofing. Doing the whole house was too much work for a single magician, even one of Nia’s skill, but she sealed the pipes and windows, making the whole place feel cozier in just a few hours. In return, Xavier made them a much too elaborate dinner and to pay that back, Arthur agreed to take a look the old truck in the garage, which had stopped working a few months prior.

  At this rate, they’d be exchanging favors until even the magically protected bits of Connery had rotted away to nothing, but Gail couldn’t deny that things were a lot more pleasant when they felt like proper guests rather than interlopers.

  Still, being back in Gracetown was… weird, to say the least. Yeah, she’d been back for cases and hell, she’d stayed in this very house – or an earlier version of it at least – for weeks a few years back, but that had been during the winter when things were dry. Now the rain was coming down in squalls, beating against the newly waterproofed windows with resentful violence. Long after Xavier had turned in and Arthur had dozed off on the couch, Gail sat up in the kitchen staring out the window at the rain with the unlit cigarette in her hand. She told herself she was just giving Nia space upstairs to finish up whatever spellwork she was doing, but mostly she just worried that if she stopped watching the windows, they might spring a leak and no one would notice until the water had seeped into the house. Or maybe it would rain so hard that the ground would become a mushy sinkhole, gaping wide to swallow the house whole.

  It wouldn’t happen, but they were hard thoughts to shake.

  Sighing, she tossed the unlit cigarette aside before she could give into the temptation to light it. It never helped as much as she thought it would anyway.

  “Detective?”

  Gail jumped, but it was only Nia standing at the foot of the stairs. Arthur, sound asleep on the couch with an arm under his head, mumbled a little but otherwise didn’t stir. Gail guessed that when you roomed with Nia regularly, you got used to sleeping through anything. Right now, though, Nia was just watching her quietly, one hand on the bannister, the other toying with her chalk-dusted skirt.

  Realizing the silence was stretching beyond what could be considered comfortable, Gail dropped the cigarette back into her pocket and got up. “What is it, princess?”

  “I just wanted to see if you were all right.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Well, you’re sitting down in the dark.”

  Fair point. “I was just –” hoping the house didn’t sink. “– thinking.”

  Nia, bless her, didn’t ask her what she had been thinking about. Instead, she just said, “It’s getting late. I’m done working for the night, if you wanted to come up.”

  Gail wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted to do, honestly, but some sleep would probably do her good.

  Because she’d already showered and changed clothes earlier that day after dealing with the dead man, she didn’t bother washing up again before dropping on top of the blankets, arms folded behind her head. She hoped Nia didn’t mind, but now that Gail was in the presence of a bed, the exhaustion of the day hit her like a sandbag. She wasn’t sure she could keep awake long enough to change into pajamas anyway.

  Luckily, Nia didn’t seem to care. She shimmied quickly out of her own clothes, complaining in a whisper about the cold before tugging a nightgown over her head and crawling under the blankets next to Gail. She seemed a little uncertain what to do with herself, eventually deciding on curling up on her side of the narrow bed and watching Gail with questioning eyes.

  In spite of everything, Gail couldn’t help laughing. Reaching over, she wiped a smudge of chalk dust from Nia’s cheek. “Being a magician is messier than I would’ve figured.”

  Nia smiled a little bashfully, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. “Yes, well, these are somewhat unusual working conditions.” She inspected her hand for chalk. “Did I get it all?”

  “Almost.” Gail brushed away a white streak beneath Nia’s eye before settling back on the pillow. “There you go.”

  “Thank you.” Nia was quiet for a moment, fingers toying with the corner of the pillowcase. “Gail?”

  “Hm?” Eyelids suddenly heavy, Gail let herself sink back on the mattress. The rain was pattering loudly against the drains on the roof, but knowing she had another floor between her and the wet ground helped. It was no seven stories, but it was something.

  “I hope… I hope I didn’t offend you or Mr. Rivers today.”

  Gail’s eyes opened. “What do you mean?”

  “Earlier when we were talking about the case. I just hope I didn’t sound – well, too much like an Academy magician.”

  Turning her head on the pillow, Gail tried to study Nia’s face, but the other woman’s eyes were downcast as if she were trying to count every pale purple flower embroidered on the sheet. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “I’m beginning to think it can be. Under certain circumstances.”

  Gail turned her gaze back to the ceiling as she tried to organize a response. “It’s not – look, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, okay? I just don’t like having Xavier involved in this. I told him what I could and he made a choice, but still, I don’t think he really understands what he’s getting in for.”

  “We could go back to the hotel, but…”

  “But when you did your magic tonight, it told you that Connery is somewhere nearby?”

  “Yes,” Nia confessed. “I can’t get an exact location. It’s too faint and I think the signal is getting confused by the magic in that gentleman who attacked Mr. Rivers, but it’s the only sign I can find, so if it’s not here, it’s not anywhere.”

  And that would be too much to hope. “Well, we can’t leave Xavier alone here if one of Connery’s traps could be in his backyard.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “Fine. I guess we’ll just have to get it done as quickly as possible.

  “Yes, of course. I’ll start early tomorrow. I could even start tonight, but the rain makes searching –”

  Gail rubbed her aching eyes. “I’m being an asshole again, aren’t I?”

  “What? No, I –”

  “No, I am.” Propping herself up on one elbow, Gail brushed a lock of hair off of Nia’s forehead. “Sorry, princess. None of this is your fault. I’m just – it’s been a long day and things aren’t going as smoothly as I’d like them too, but there’s nothing you can do about that. Maybe I’ll take a walk tomorrow morning, clear my head a bit.” There are some things I should see.

  When Gail held out her arm, Nia shifted closer to rest her head on Gail’s chest. “Do you want company?”

  “Nah, not on this one, princess, but you can come next time, promise.”

  Nia nodded against Gail’s shoulder. “I’ll get some work done while you’re out.”

  Knowing that Nia’s feelings were probably still a little bruised, but not knowing how else to explain herself, she settled for stroking Nia’s hair until the other woman’s breathing deepened into sleep.

  Gail stayed awake a while longer, listening to the rain drum on the roof. Even if there were still cracks of misunderstanding between them, she was glad Nia was there. Her warm, easy-sleeping presence helped keep any dark memories at bay and, sooner than she expected, she too slipped into sleep.

  A slow gray drizzle persisted into morning. It was cold, wet, and unpleasant, but knowing the weather was unlikely to get any better as
the day wore on, Gail pulled on her poncho and ventured out into the damp while everyone else was still asleep.

  54

  Gail Lin

  Wet Blessing was pretty much how she remembered it, crooked hovels hastily erected in the vain hope of keeping out the storms. It was early days yet, but she could already see the toll the rainy season had taken. The ground was littered with fallen clotheslines and abandoned wood and metal that proved too rotten to be good for leak-patching. In drier months, this spot would be alive with people at this time of day, men and woman heading out to scrounge for food or carrying buckets to the distant water pumps, but today, everything was silent and still, as if there were no people living there at all.

  But Gail knew better. They were just hiding. Or dying. Or both.

  The river licked hungrily at the bank, splashing up to slap the underside of the old stone bridge which seemed to be still standing out of habit alone. By season’s end, the river would rise to twice its current height. The people who lived here would be forced to crowd on to higher ground or simply be flooded out. One tin house near the water had already been abandoned, the eastern wall knocked in by the wind. A child’s dress hung out through the hole, flapping weakly in the breeze as it was slowly pulled down toward the river by the grasping water.

  Gail waited where she was for a while, wanting to see some movement – perhaps even the child returning to claim her dress – but here, even a drizzle was enough to keep everyone huddled inside their ramshackle houses. Finally, she had no choice but to turn her back on her old home and walked back to Xavier’s.

  When she got back, Arthur and Xavier were out in the garage. Though she wanted nothing more than to get back to the house and out of the chilly wet, she stopped to watch for a moment. Arthur was elbow deep in the engine of Xavier’s old truck. Xavier said something about paying Arthur for his trouble, but Arthur flatly refused.

  “It’s the least I can do,” he said as he wiped his hands on a bit of rag. “And I’d like to help out, if I can.”

  Xavier showed his gratitude by kissing Arthur on the cheek, with no care for the oil streaking his face. Arthur cleared his throat as he turned back to the truck, but even from the back, Gail had a feeling he was smiling.

  This could end painfully for everyone involved, she thought as she walked back to the house, but she was smiling too. Doc deserved a little sunshine in his life, she figured, even if – like actual sunshine – it couldn’t last.

  When she came through the front door, carefully slipping her poncho over her head and hanging it up to dry without touching the slick outside, she found Nia sitting at the kitchen table, making notes on a sheet of paper and checking periodically in a thick book by her elbow. Several coffee mugs stood around the table like cracked sentries.

  She looked up when Gail came in, setting down her pencil. “How was your walk?”

  “Wet, mostly,” Gail replied, forcing a grin. They had spent enough of these past few weeks rubbing shoulders with the dead, Gail didn’t need to add her own ghosts to the mix. “How’s it coming?”

  Nia’s scowl told the whole story. “Not well. I’m trying to refine the location spell, but it’s taking time. The spells just weren’t designed for such detailed work.” Then she smiled a brittle smile that looked about as natural as Gail’s grin had felt. “But nothing worth doing comes easily! I’ll keep at it and I’m sure I’ll find the answer soon.”

  Not liking the edge to Nia’s determined cheer, Gail picked up one of the mugs from the table and filled it with the tea Xavier had left on the stove before joining Nia at the table. “Here,” she said, nudging the tea toward Nia. “Don’t run yourself ragged, princess.”

  “I won’t.” Nia’s forced smile softened a little as she picked up the offered mug and took a sip. “But I have a plan. It will just take a little time to put it in motion. Never fear, detective, I expect we’ll have Connery in hand before too long.”

  55

  Nia Graves

  Another day passed, then two, then four, then six, and Nia still did not have Connery in hand. She was grateful that Mr. Rivers seemed happy to have their company, because at this point, she had no idea when they would be able to leave. By drawing until she thought her hands would fall off, she had managed to increase the accuracy of her location spell by 15%. Had she been home at the Academy, that would have been cause to publish an article and perhaps earn herself a promotion, but out here in the field that 15% might as well have been 0% for all the good it did her.

  No matter how many times she tried, all her spells found was the dead man lying in the toolshed. She could feel the faint pulse of Connery’s magic permeating the whole area, but despite all her effort, the spell was not precise enough to focus on it.

  It has to be here somewhere. Even if my mind is playing tricks on me, there is no way that man wandered far from the last hiding place, not magic-addled as he was.

  At least the Academy hadn’t sent her any more messages. Of course, they couldn’t send her any messages until she informed them of her current location, but it still helped her breathe a little easier to know that she didn’t have to be constantly checking over her shoulder for the news of her imminent replacement. As one week bled into two, she became certain that the only thing delaying her removal from the case was their inability to locate her. Eventually, they would send out other Illuminators to track her down and if they found her stymied, her replacement was assured, but if she could put her hands on Connery in time… They still might scold her for not keeping in proper contact, but the case would be a success, her success. She only needed to see it through to the end.

  But she was running out of time.

  And then there was Arthur. She knew something was going on between him and Mr. Rivers. She suspected that the seeds of this something had been planted back when they had been staying at the hotel. She also suspected that Gail knew and had said nothing. She wanted to be angry, but she knew she didn’t have the right. Gail was Arthur’s friend; she had a right to keep his secrets, even from his sister and her… well, whatever Gail considered Nia to be.

  She also knew that at least Arthur knew that she knew. They had never been good at keeping secrets from one another and she would have to be blind not to see the meaningful glances and casual touches. She didn’t know what Mr. Rivers thought, but he had never looked at her unkindly, so hopefully he didn’t see her as a threat to Arthur’s happiness, though that was exactly what she was. Not by choice, never by choice, but her duty was absolute. Ignoring a dance or even a stolen evening or two was one thing, but this… this could not be allowed to continue. The longer it went on, the more painful it would become for everyone involved.

  And yet still she hesitated, cowardly avoiding Arthur’s eyes and pretending not to see that he was no longer sleeping on the couch downstairs. As the second week wore on, however, she knew she could delay no longer. Soon, either she would have her breakthrough and they would find Connery, which would mean leaving, or the Academy would replace her, which would also mean leaving. Either way, their time here was nearly through and she needed to make certain Arthur understood.

  So one evening, when Mr. Rivers was laid up with an aching chest cold, and Gail had elected to turn in early to, as she put it, ‘sleep the boredom away,’ Nia followed Arthur into the kitchen when he went to make a pot of a coffee.

  He looked up when she came into the room and, for a moment, he looked like he wanted to flee. Instead, he pulled another mug down from the cabinet and said, “Do you want some, Ni?”

  “I would love some, thank you.” Nia sat down at the small table and after a few quiet moments, Arthur joined her with two steaming mugs. For a while, they sat in silence, the only sound coming from the ticking clock on the wall. It wasn’t uncommon for Nia and Arthur to sit quietly together just enjoying each other’s company, but tonight there was a tension hanging between them like a fog.

  Nia hated it, but she could only manage to say, “Are you having a nice
time here?” as she stared into her coffee.

  Arthur shrugged. “I suppose so. Are you?”

  “Of course!” Nia chirped.

  That earned her an arched eyebrow. “You’re half-killing yourself with work.”

  “Ah, well, all right, yes, perhaps I’m not enjoying that part,” said Nia. “But otherwise… otherwise it’s been… nice.”

  The awkward conversation dried up and they went back to quietly nursing their coffee. Another five or so minutes passed until Nia simply couldn’t stand it any longer. “Arthur.”

  “Ni?”

  She sat there for an endless moment, her mouth half open. Then she said, “Nothing. I should probably get back to work. We can talk tomorrow.” Leaving her coffee on the table, she stood and almost fell over her own feet in her haste to leave the kitchen. She had made it halfway across the living room when Arthur said, “Ni.”

  Turning around, she saw Arthur standing in the kitchen doorway.

  Nia crossed her arms over her chokingly tight chest, gripping her elbows in both hands. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I wish I could change it, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  She hadn’t known exactly what to expect as a reaction: bitter sarcasm maybe or anger that she had broached the subject at all, but Arthur only looked at her sadly and said, “I know.”

  “But I –” Nia’s eyes were stinging and she had to blink hard to keep tears from running down her cheeks.

  “Oh, Ni, don’t cry.”

  “I’m not crying.” But she let Arthur wrap his arms around her and hug her against his chest anyway. “I don’t want to see you sad, Arthur, but there’s nothing I can do.” She shook her head. “We should have just gone back to the hotel and avoided this entire…”