by Jim Hines
The woman was too polished, her every mannerism a veneer to hide what lay beneath. Jeneta folded her arms. “Dwight Eisenhower said, ‘If you want total security, go to prison.’”
“True, true,” Collins said easily, her smile never cracking. “But from what your father tells me, you’ve been magically assaulted twice in the past few days.”
Jeneta turned her attention to the libriomancer, Nguyen. “You were there for the ansible presentation. You saw what happened. You think JPM could have prevented that?”
After a quick look to Collins, as if asking permission, the man said, “We would never have risked putting you on stage in the first place. It made you a target.” He spoke with a thick French accent. “Isaac is too épris”—he frowned, searching for the right word—“too enamored with public attention and approval.”
“Isaac hates the attention,” Jeneta answered. “He does this stuff because he has to. Because he knows how important it is for people to see and accept magic. People are afraid of us and what we can do. He wants them to feel inspired.”
“Perhaps people like you would be safer if the rest of the world remained afraid,” Collins suggested.
It was the wrong thing to say. Jeneta’s mind flashed back to Meridiana flaunting her power, to people crying out in pain while others cowered.
Collins’ tone softened, probably reacting to Jeneta’s expression. “We know how valuable your work is. The Venture will change the world, and the ansible… Have you considered what that technology could mean? You’ll revolutionize the internet, computers, cellphones, anything that relies on sending a signal from one place to another. You’re young, Jeneta. You’ve been following in Isaac Vainio’s shadow since the beginning. You owe it to yourself to explore all your options.”
Jeneta didn’t like this woman, but she had a point. Isaac had been the one to teach Jeneta how to use and control her magic after she accidentally pulled a snake from her cellphone in math class. He’d reassured her that it could have been worse. Isaac had discovered his magic when he brought Smudge out of a fantasy novel. He’d nearly burnt down his high school library in the process.
“I know New Millennium’s not perfect,” said Jeneta. “But it’s like family.”
“I understand.” Collins pulled out a business card and set it on Jeneta’s tray. “Call me when you’re ready to leave the nest.”
The instant she and Nguyen left, Jeneta turned to her father. “I don’t like them.”
“Jeneta—”
“They want the ansible, not me.” How badly did they want it? Badly enough to sabotage her presentation? “I don’t want to be a product for JPM to sell.”
“Jeneta, they offered you a place in their Paris facility. They’d pay for you to study at École Normale Superieure, or anywhere else you wanted. Collins wants to earn a profit for JPM, yes. That’s her job. But she wants to do that by taking care of you.”
Instead of arguing, Jeneta lay back and asked, “Didn’t you say something about making dodo? Do we have any Nutella to go with it?”
He gave her a mock glare, but let the change of subject to go unchallenged. “Your grandmother weeps in her grave every time you drown your dodo in that mud.” He paused, then added, “I’ll pick some up later this morning.”
Jeneta took the note from Greg and unfolded it.
Her father watched closely. “What did the boy say?”
“He’s confirming the details of our secret plan to elope in Vegas and run off to New York together so he can fulfill his dream of being a street performer. He’s going to dress up like Batman and bounce around on a pogo stick while playing the kazoo.” She tossed the note back onto the tray. “Relax, Dad. He just thanked me for showing him magic and asked me to text him to let him know I’m all right.”
“If you say so. But if I hear him outside your window, serenading you with a kazoo, you’re grounded.”
* * *
Before leaving the medical tower, Jeneta asked to stop by Talulah Polk’s room.
Talulah lay in a hospital gown on a bed identical to the one Jeneta had just vacated. She’d kicked the thin sheet down to her knees. Her skin was pale and sweaty, and she’d drooled a dark circle onto the pillow. She looked fragile.
A get-well bouquet of orchids and roses sat on the windowsill. A series of small monitors hummed and beeped next to the bed. An IV tube snaked into Talulah’s left arm.
Talulah whispered softly in another language. Choctaw, maybe? She’d grown up on a reservation in Oklahoma.
“The doctors will do everything they can to help your friend,” her father said, putting a gentle hand on Jeneta’s shoulder.
“Did you know she has her own YouTube channel?” Jeneta murmured. “She’s a gamer. Millions of people watch and listen as she runs through different games. She’s really funny.”
Talulah’s eyes moved beneath her lids. “Listen…”
“Talulah?” Jeneta grabbed Talulah’s right hand. “I’m here. I’m listening.”
Talulah’s fingers twitched and moved, like they were tracing lines of text. “Transmitting… First message.”
“What is it?” her father whispered.
“I think she’s reading the scene from New Destiny.” Jeneta’s stomach sank. “I thought maybe she could hear me, but she’s just trying to finish what we started on stage.”
Talulah’s muscles twitched and jerked like a marionette with tangled strings. “They’re coming. Swimmers.”
A shiver spread from Jeneta’s spine through her body. That wasn’t from New Destiny. “Who are the swimmers?”
One of the monitors began to beep loudly.
‹Drowning.›
Footsteps from the hall grew louder. Her father touched her arm and said, “We should go.”
Jeneta wanted to argue, to stay, but Talulah was clearly growing more agitated. “We’re going to help you,” she promised. “Whoever did this, we’ll stop them.”
‹Listen…›
Jeneta focused her thoughts on Talulah, listening for the faintest telepathic whisper as her father led her away, but heard nothing more.
* * *
Jeneta had avoided the news videos of her presentation, unwilling to relive those moments. Now, with images and echoes of Talulah burnt into her memory, she sat cross-legged on her bed and pored over every frame she could find online.
Headlines like “What New Millennium’s Failure Means for the Future of Space Exploration” made her cringe, but they were better than the stories that focused specifically on her. She scrolled down her phone until “Jeneta Aboderin: Beacon of Hope or Murderer Searching for Redemption?” disappeared off the screen, leaving only a short video clip.
She clicked Play. The front of the ansible appeared. She saw herself pause. This was the first moment she’d felt another presence brush against her mind, exactly twenty-three seconds after she’d touched the story’s magic. Talulah had sensed nothing, despite her telepathy.
Isaac stepped forward for a whispered discussion with her and Talulah. A banner scrolled along the bottom, announcing, “New Millennium’s Mars Program in Jeopardy.”
They finished creating the primary unit. Jeneta reached into the enormous screen to begin forming the secondary unit. This was when the mental contact, little more than a feather before, had returned as a sledgehammer.
Why this moment? If the goal was to sabotage the presentation, why not attack her earlier, before they created the main ansible. Why wait until the bulk of the work was over?
Jeneta watched herself cough and stumble, flailing for balance. Talulah caught her arm. Isaac and Kiyoko ran toward her from either side of the stage. Jeneta appeared to convulse once, and then both she and Talulah collapsed.
Talulah hadn’t been affected until the end, but she was the one lying comatose in a hospital bed. Why?
“Look at it from the other direction,” she muttered. Forget intentions. Look at results. What had the attack accomplished?
The ansible wa
s incomplete. New Millennium’s reputation had taken a blow, along with Jeneta’s. Talulah Polk was in the hospital. And something continued to stalk Jeneta from the shadows.
Could this be about her personally? Revenge for something she’d done, someone she hurt while under Meridiana’s control? If so, it meant Talulah was an innocent victim caught in the crossfire. It meant what had happened to her was Jeneta’s fault.
Her phone buzzed in her hand, making her jump so hard she dropped it. Her hand shook as she retrieved it and pulled up a new text message.
Greg: Sorry to bug you but something weird is happening.
Jeneta: Welcome to New Millennium. Be more specific?
Greg: It’s my dad. He’s real out of it. I think it might be mayo.
Greg: Magic*
Greg: He’s mumbling to himself. Keeps saying listen.
Jeneta: I’ll be right there.
She scooped Nkiruka from her terrarium into her smaller traveling cage, shoved her phone into her pocket, grabbed her e-reader, and hurried out to where her father was grading essays at the kitchen table. He’d been working as an English teacher since they moved to New Millennium.
“I’m going to visit Greg,” she said, trying for a casual tone.
He jotted a quick margin note and looked at her, letting his stern, moderately disapproving expression do the talking.
“It’s no big deal. I decided to join his street act. I’m going to be Batgirl. We’re going to pick out my costume.”
The left corner of his mouth twitched, the only crack in his façade. He checked his watch. “Be home by ten o’clock.”
“Thanks!” She hurried out the door before he could pry further or change his mind.
The Parkers were staying in the visitor’s area near the main gate, a series of two-story townhouses with walls the color of sandstone. A door swung open as she approached, and Greg waved her inside.
“Where is he?” she asked.
“Upstairs.”
Jeneta followed him up to the second bedroom, where Buford Parker sat at a small desk, staring at an open spiral-bound notebook. “Why didn’t you call security?”
“I wasn’t sure what was happening. If it’s nothing serious… Any little thing can get you pulled off a mission, and he’s been so excited about flying the Venture. Every night he reviews his notes, memorizing every inch of the ship and her controls.”
“Colonel Parker?” Jeneta took a cautious step into the room. The hardwood floor creaked with her weight, but Greg’s father didn’t look up.
She set the cage on the dresser and opened her e-reader, searching for Tamora Pierce’s In the Hand of the Goddess. She skimmed the first chapter and reached into the book to create a small, glowing ember encased in a layer of crystal.
“What’s that?” asked Greg.
“An ember-stone.” The instant she’d touched the stone, flames had appeared on Colonel Parker’s notebook. “It lets me see magic. You were right. Someone enchanted your dad’s notes.”
“Can you undo it?”
“Maybe.” With the exception of Nkiruka, the room was otherwise empty of magic. She stepped closer. When she was near enough to touch Colonel Parker’s shoulder, a scratching sound made her pause. The pages rustled, like an insect had gotten trapped between them.
Jeneta checked Nkiruka again, but she didn’t react as Jeneta reached out and turned the page.
“That’s the start-up routine,” Greg whispered, peering past her shoulder at his father’s small, precise handwriting. The first three steps had checkmarks beside them. As they watched, a fourth check appeared. “The hell?”
Was someone else in the room, invisible or out of phase with everyone else? No, the ember-stone would have shown that. The only magic was the notebook itself. Magic allowing someone else to read it, and to write their own notes. “They cloned it. Anything you write in one notebook must appear in the other.”
Whoever it was, they were working through the start-up routine. Jeneta swore and shoved past Greg to grab Nkiruka’s cage. “They’re trying to steal the Venture!”
* * *
Jeneta took a shortcut through a small grove of oaks behind the library, texting Isaac and Kiyoko as she ran. The trees felt out of place in the desert environment, but New Millennium’s resident hamadryad had a way with plants.
The Venture sat behind Franklin Tower, the chrome skin gleaming gold from the light of the setting sun. The rear of the ship was all fuel and engines, with the middle section for cargo. The crew would cram together in the front for a crowded but relatively quick ride.
“Don’t you people have security guards or something?” asked Greg.
Jeneta pointed to the cameras mounted on the wall of the research tower. “There was a magical ward too, but it’s been broken.”
She approached the ship. There were no windows, no way to see who was inside. She stretched to reach the access panel for the thick, narrow hatch by the cockpit. The panel opened, but the electronics wouldn’t respond. She tried to unlock the crank to manually open the hatch, but it might as well have been welded in place. “They’ve secured it from the inside.”
“Can’t you override it?”
Jeneta stepped back, thinking through the text of Mars 2020. “I don’t think so.”
Kiyoko Itô—two of them—sprinted toward the Venture from opposite directions. The first reached up to the electronic panel, presumably trying to bypass or reprogram the electronics. The second jumped gracefully onto the nose of the ship and scrambled higher, holding the mohawk-like fin as she searched for another way in.
Isaac arrived seconds later, dressed for battle in a travel vest with books stuffed into every pocket. “Who’s inside?”
“Unknown,” both Kiyokos said in unison. The one on the ground added, “The security camera is operational, but the footage reveals nothing until Jeneta and Greg arrived.”
“Damn.” He glared at the hatch. “I’d rather not unmake this thing, but we are not letting someone steal it.”
As if in response, the Venture’s engines hummed to life. Waves of energy from the repulsor plates underneath pushed Jeneta backward.
Isaac tugged a book from his vest and flipped to a bookmarked page. He produced a black and silver cylinder. A glowing green blade sprang to life with a hiss-snap. “Kiyoko, get out of the way.”
Kiyoko bounded back from the hatch, while the clone on the roof continued to crawl about in search of weaknesses. “Whoever’s inside may be armed.”
“Wait.” Jeneta’s fingers raced over her e-reader. She pulled up a collection of nineteenth century English poetry, flipped to the one she wanted, and began to read.
O soft embalmer of the still midnight,
Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,
Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light,
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine:
O soothest Sleep! If so it please thee, close
In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes…
She wasn’t quite halfway through Keats’ “To Sleep” when the Kiyoko atop the ship slumped. Jeneta kept reading, trying to focus the poem’s magic on the cockpit. The engines didn’t die down, but the Venture wasn’t taking off, either.
Isaac murmured under his breath, probably shielding himself and the other Kiyoko from the magic. Behind her, Greg smothered a yawn.
Jeneta finished reading and nodded to Isaac. He and Kiyoko stepped forward, and he gently pushed the tip of his emerald blade through the edge of the hatch. Molten metal sizzled as air hissed free from the pressurized shuttle.
He cut downward, though metal bolts and airtight sealing, then stepped back so Kiyoko could drag the heavy door open.
Elizabeth Collins sat slumped in the pilot’s seat, snoring.
Isaac deactivated his weapon. “Jeneta, do you know how to shut this thing down?”
Jeneta climbed inside, carefully avoiding the glowing metal where Isaac had cut through the hatch. A spiral-bound notebook
lay on the cockpit floor where it had slipped from Collins’ hand. Jeneta ducked and stepped toward the copilot’s seat, then froze. Three squid-shaped shadows hovered protectively over the stolen notebook.
Jeneta slowly slid one hand into her pocket to touch the ember-stone she’d created earlier. The notebook glowed magic. A similar, fainter aura encompassed the ship itself. Collins appeared to have a few magical toys about her person as well. She’d probably used one of them to get past the ship’s wards. But the shadows—Talulah had called them swimmers—remained dark.
“What’s wrong?” asked Isaac.
A wriggling thread of darkness reached out, burrowing toward her innermost thoughts.
Jeneta staggered back, nearly falling from the ship. Memories of Meridiana surged like floodwaters through a crumbled dam. She remembered standing in a stream in the woods, fighting Isaac and his allies. Her hands frostbitten from Isaac’s magic.
Isaac reached for her, past and present blurring together.
“Do it!” Meridiana wouldn’t let her go. Isaac had to kill them both. Jeneta didn’t want to die, but it was the only way to stop Meridiana. She cried out again, weeping, knowing Isaac couldn’t hear her. She was trapped, buried within her own body. Meridiana had entwined herself in Jeneta’s mind, uncovered every thought, every secret.
“Jeneta!” Another voice—Kiyoko—but Kiyoko hadn’t been at the stream.
Kiyoko touched her shoulder. Jeneta jerked away, her other hand coming up instinctively to strike. Kiyoko’s reflexes would have allowed her plenty of time to dodge or counter, but she accepted the punch without flinching. “Jeneta, you’re safe.”
Jeneta gripped Kiyoko’s arm like it was the only thing keeping her from falling. Her body shook, and tears poured down her face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”
* * *
“Flashbacks are a normal reaction to what you’ve been through,” said Dr. Shah. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”