They Promised Me the Gun Wasn't Loaded

by James Alan Gardner

  « I knew I should have asked for money,» I say. « Somebody is going to get rich instead of us! »

  « You had the weapon? » Grandfather asks.

  « Briefly,» Miranda says. « A big fucking gun. But we got rid of it. » She glances at me in the mirror. « Giving it away really was our best move. Things might have gotten unpleasant. »

  I mouth “Thank you” to her.

  « I know all about ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t,’» Grandfather says. « But the Darklings intend to show off the gun at their memorial. Perfect time to hold an auction if that’s what they choose. Lot of high rollers in attendance. »

  Shar says, « They’ll actually have the weapon there? Surely they aren’t so foolish. »

  « Can’t hold an auction if the bidders can’t examine the goods,» Grandfather replies. « Well, okay, you can, but you won’t make nearly as much money. People won’t bid through the roof if they can’t see what they’re buying. »

  « But having the gun there is asking for trouble,» Shar says. « There’s already a risk that Diamond will attack … »

  « And,» I add, «Robin Hood might take another stab at stealing it. »

  « That’s what I’m talking about,» Grandfather says. « Darklings can be oblivious to how humans think, but this smells like deliberate provocation. And I heard these rumors from multiple sources. Their security leaks like a sieve. As if someone wants villains to know. »

  « Wonderful,» Miranda groans. « But why? »

  « It’s a trap,» K says. « For Diamond. Or Robin Hood. Or both. »

  I think about Reaper and Stevens & Stephens. Those fuckwits are just the sort to think they can make themselves look good by catching Diamond red-handed.

  The big bad D is one of the world’s most powerful supervillains. Whoever takes him down will become a law-enforcement star. But until Diamond came to Waterloo, he’d never been known to venture outside Australia. I wouldn’t be surprised if Reaper and his bosses are high-fiving each other that Diamond has come within their reach. Now they’ve hatched a harebrained scheme to take down a guy the Australians couldn’t capture.

  I say, « This is going to be bad. »

  « A fucking disaster,» says Miranda. « Every villain and their dog will show up: Diamond, Robin Hood, and who knows what other crazies. »

  « Heroes, too,» K points out. « The Australian All-Stars have fought Diamond at least a dozen times. If they hear about this, they’ll show up, too. Diamond is their nemesis. They won’t pass up a chance to nail him. »

  « The All-Stars are already here,» Grandfather says. « It makes sense: if you were arranging a trap for Diamond, you’d call the All-Stars right away. They might never have caught him, but they’ve defeated his schemes over and over. They can tell you what to watch for. »

  “Arrgh!” Miranda says. « So who are we expecting? Diamond … Robin Hood and his merry assholes … the Oz All-Stars … random gate crashers … and a whack of Darkling VIPs. Is it too late to run off to Tahiti? »

  « You can’t run,» Grandfather says. « You’re the only Sparks in Waterloo. You’re like the city’s official babysitters. But if you want help, just ask. Invie can arrange party invites for us. Provided we won’t just be two extra headaches for you to handle. »

  I exchange looks with Miranda. She grimaces; I shrug. Miranda says, « You’d better come. We’ll need all the help we can get. »

  Murmurs of agreement from K and Shar. « Okay, then,» says Grandfather. « When you decide how you want to use us, drop us a comm. Or just meet us at the bar. »

  « At the bar,» I say, maybe a bit too eagerly. « And thanks for the warning. »

  « De nada,» Grandfather says.

  There’s no sound of him hanging up, but after a few seconds, it’s obvious he’s gone. « Team meeting downstairs? » Shar suggests.

  « Five minutes,» I reply. First, I have to pin up Miranda’s hair.

  * * *

  WE GATHER IN THE kitchen. Shar sits at the table as if she expects us to join her in a boardroom-style conference. Ain’t gonna happen. I sprawl against a counter, K sits on top of the stove, and Miranda paces.

  Each of us is halfway through getting prommed up. Miranda still wears her polar-bear bathrobe; Shar wears a skimpy dressing gown made of bright green silk; K and I are both in shorts and sloppy sweatshirts. I don’t know what underwear the others have on, but I have nothing except invertebrates.

  I wonder how one cares for jellyfish lingerie. Does it have to be fed? Can I wear it in the shower? Should I keep it in salt water overnight?

  Yes to salt water—that’s probably why I stole the aquariums. Probably no to the shower. Water pressure might damage the tissue, and besides, I think it’s a great idea to take off the slime on a regular basis and scrub hard wherever it’s touched my body. As for feeding the fish, I suspect jelly undies will happily chow down on sloughed-off flakes of human skin. I also suspect I shouldn’t mention this to my roommates. Nonbiology students are squeamish.

  “I notice,” says K, “that we’re all getting primped. But is this really a good idea? I keep wondering if I should just wear my Zircon costume.”

  “Wear what you like,” I say. “But I got a killer dress for Christmas, and this is my chance to wear it.”

  Oh, look, doubling down on my lie. Typical Jools.

  “It’s wise to go undercover,” Miranda says. “If we’re there as Sparks, we’ll be easy to track. Also to target. If Diamond or anyone else wants a shot at us, wearing our costumes puts us right in the crosshairs. But if we look like normal humans, we’ll blend in and be ignored.”

  K snorts. “You won’t be ignored, Miranda. You accumulate men.” K looks at me. “The same for you, Jools, except you do it by grabbing any guy who gets within reach.”

  “You haven’t seen my dress yet,” I reply. “Tonight, I’ll be crotch-deep in guys without a single headlock.”

  Shar tells K, “It really does seem best to go incognito. We’ll have the element of surprise if someone attacks. But with Grandfather and the Inventor in attendance, there’ll be an obvious Spark presence to discourage bad behavior.”

  “The All-Stars, too,” I say. “They’re an imposing lot. They’re also good at what they do.”

  Shar tilts her head and looks at K. “Are you leaning toward your costume because you don’t have anything else to wear? I’m sure we could assemble a suitable outfit.”

  “I have something to wear,” K says. “I, uhh…”

  K is blushing! If ze were an anime character, there’d be big beads of sweat and a nosebleed! Sheepishly, K mumbles, “I’ve decided maybe it’s time I stop being a wallflower. So over Christmas, my mother and grandmothers … they’ve finally accepted I’m never going to wear pink chiffon, so when I asked, they took me out shopping for something we could all agree looked nice.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Shar says. I’ll bet she’s mentally making a list of people she can pair up with K. But one debacle at a time.

  “So, clothes, not the problem,” K says, with reddened cheeks and lowered eyes. “What we need is an excuse for being there. Because…” K takes a breath. “Nicholas and Elaine Vandermeer—they’re sure to be at the memorial. And when we run into them, it’ll be hard for me, okay? If I’m there as Zircon, they won’t give me grief. But if I’m me…”

  “If they say one nasty word,” I promise, “I’ll punch the two of them out.”

  “Unnecessary,” Miranda says. “I can handle them. I have experience with their kind.” She grimaces. “You all know a lot of my cousins are Darklings. And as it happens, my cousin Todd got hurt at the Goblin Market. Nothing serious—well, okay, he nearly got burned alive, but you, Shar, pulled him out of the flames. Since he’s a werewolf, he healed within a day. NBD. But Todd owes me a favor. I went to a wedding as his date last summer and I let him pretend we weren’t related. I’ll inform him he’s inviting me to the memorial, and the three of you, too.” She smiles triumphantly. “So
there, problem solved. A perfectly valid excuse for us to be there.”

  I silently ask myself, How many invitations do I have now? A group of four from Calon, two groups from the Vandermeers, and now one from Cousin Todd. All I say is, “Works for me.”

  K hesitates, then nods. “If Nicholas and Elaine had any sensitivity, they’d wonder why I’d want to go near this damned memorial, considering all the bad experiences I’ve had with Darklings. But the thought won’t cross their minds. They’ll both assume I’m hungry to spend time with the Dark.”

  Shar says, “K, dear, you do have a thing for Darklings.”

  K glares. “Not anymore. Me. New leaf. Turning over. Gonna find someone whose heart actually beats, and have a normal relationship.” Pause. “For a flexible version of normal.”

  “Okay, then,” I say. “Anything else? Or are we good?”

  Miranda scowls, then grudgingly lets it go. “That thing you made—the one for costume changes.”

  I say, “The one that’s definitely not a Mad Genius invention?”

  Miranda grits her teeth. “We’ll need it, won’t we?”

  “What’s this about costume changes?” Shar asks.

  I think to myself, « Ninety-Nine Power, Make Up! » Instantly, I transform to Ninety-Nine.

  “Oh my,” Shar says.

  I change back. “Ta-da.”

  “Yes, we’ll need that,” Shar says. “Most definitely.”

  K grumbles, “I guess.” Inside my head, K says, « We need to talk about that when we’re finished here. »

  Uh-oh. K’s « We need to talk » sounds like « We. Need. To. Talk. » But I only answer, «Okay. » Aloud I say, “I’ll set you all up with a costume-changer and teach you how to work it. But, uhh … look, you’re my friends, and if you ask, I’ll explain the exact mechanisms involved. But trust me: knowing won’t make you happy.”

  Miranda looks aghast. “It’s not, like, ground-up babies or something?”

  “Of course not! I’m not a Mad Genius. But I am a biologist, right? And the process involves … biology.”

  Miranda looks sick. “We have to do something biological?”

  “You have to wear something biological,” I say. “But you’re used to that. Cotton is biological. Silk is biological.”

  K says, “Something tells me we aren’t talking about cotton or silk.”

  “I’m going to my room!” Miranda announces. “And I’m going to play Tosca very loudly so I can’t hear what you say next.” She literally flies out of the kitchen and up the stairs, so fast that the hem of her bathrobe flaps in the wind.

  Shar laughs and gives me a smile. “I don’t care how it works. Biology is only chemistry that thinks it’s special.” She gives K and me a finger-wave, then heads with queenly dignity back to her room.

  Silence in the kitchen. I finally say, “Well.”

  K is still sitting on the stove. Ze’s across the kitchen from me and not looking in my direction … except that with Spark-o-Vision, K is always looking in every direction.

  Ze asks, “Do you remember last night at all?”

  My reflex is to lie, but that won’t make things better. I say nothing.

  “You came into my room at two in the morning,” K says. “You wanted a sample of my blood. When I asked why, you seemed surprised—as if you never imagined you might have to justify yourself. Then you told me you had an idea for how to break my blood bond with Elaine, but you needed a sample to test.” K sighs. “You said a lot of things, Jools. And when you want to be, you’re the best persuader in the world, aren’t you? Besides, I was half-asleep. So I said yes.” K finally raises zir head and looks me in the eye. “Do you remember any of that?”

  I take a deep breath, then let it out. “Not really.”

  “Well, good,” K says. “Because you manipulated the fuck out of me. If you were in your right mind, I’d hate you. I mean, shit, Jools, you wanted my blood! And I’d already told you what Elaine did to me. When she drank my blood, the fear and humiliation nearly destroyed me. And it left me with a blood bond that scares me to death. Not a good time to ask if you could take some of my blood! Yet that’s what you did, Jools, as casually as if you wanted to borrow a paper clip. And you weren’t truly working on the blood bond. You used my blood for your costume-changer, right?”

  I want to run away. And I want a giant drink. Why the fuck am I not drunk?

  K waits for an answer. I say, “The costume-changer shrinks clothes for easy storage. I must have used your blood to make that happen. Somehow.”

  “But you don’t remember?”

  “No.”

  “Does that scare you?”

  …

  “Yeah.”

  But the truth is I don’t feel scared. I’m too hot with shame to feel anything else.

  K slides off the stove. “I don’t know whether to hug you or slap you.”

  “Your choice,” I say.

  I wait, not looking in K’s direction. After a long pause, ze wraps zir arms around me. Lightly. A duty hug. I hug back just as carefully, but it takes all my willpower not to squeeze and cling like I’m drowning. K is so short, zir head is against my chest. Ze says into my sweatshirt, “I’m worried for you, Jools.”

  I don’t say anything.

  Ze lifts zir head and sniffs. “I don’t smell any alcohol on your breath.”

  I think for a moment. “I haven’t had anything to drink all day.”

  “Jools,” K says, “I’m not a fan of your drinking, but what does it mean when a night of inventing replaces your desire for alcohol?”

  Oh, dude, I’m desiring it now! But K’s right. It’s only in the last few minutes that I’ve seriously wanted a drink. I spent most of the day without it even crossing my mind.

  Okay. Now I’m scared.

  6

  Social Grooming

  I FLEE TO MY room and have a shot of tequila. I drink a second glass more slowly as I brood over the aquariums on my windowsill.

  I’d love to never think about the costume-changers again. It’s scary enough that I blanked out while making them, and that I ran around breaking into labs and stealing whatever I wanted. But I also exploited K. I used my powers and trampled zir feelings without hesitation. Afterward, I’d been so sated and relaxed, I forgot all about my old friend alcohol.

  This is bad. Like, split-personality serial killer bad. Not that I’ve killed anyone, but what if blacked-out me decided it was necessary? How far would I have gone?

  I glare at the aquariums with loathing. I consider pouring their contents down the toilet. But we need the costume-changers. And if I throw out the jellyfish underwear, it means I treated K like shit and don’t even have anything to show for it.

  But at least I’ve made the deal with Calon Arang. K will soon be freed from Elaine’s blood bond. That’ll make up for what I did, right?

  Right?

  I have to believe that.

  Eventually, I put on my big-girl panties and set out to introduce my roommates to nematocyst bikinis.

  I start with Shar. She won’t give me drama. For all I know, she’s already romped through my brain and read my memories. She may know what a shit I’ve been.

  Yet she smiles as she opens the door to me. She lets me pet the kitten, and she makes small talk till I calm down.

  Even better, she’s cool with slime. She doesn’t gag when I pull see-through goo from an aquarium. She immediately sees how to use the undies, and is eager to test them out.

  Shar starts undressing even before I get out the door. I don’t know if it’s a Sri Lankan thing or personal to Shar herself, but she has no qualms about her body. The only reason she doesn’t walk around the house nude is that Miranda might explode.

  Next stop, K … and thank you, baby Jesus, K is satisfied with verbal instructions. Ze doesn’t ask me to strip down and model the jelly bikini. Then again, K probably uses Spark-o-Vision to look underneath what I’m wearing and see exactly how the slimewear goes on. I consider apologiz
ing that the outfit includes a bra; is that insensitive with someone who wants to be as gender-unspecific as possible? But I don’t think either of us could handle another raw emotional moment. So it’s “Thanks,” and “You’re welcome,” then I scuttle from the room before anything traumatic gets said.

  That only leaves Miranda. I know she’ll want complete operating guidelines, plus a demo and a lengthy Q-and-A. I fortify myself with tequila before going to her room. As promised, the opera Tosca is playing loudly, but I don’t even have to knock before the music stops and Miranda opens the door.

  I say, “You heard my footsteps over the music?”

  She shrugs. “I hear a lot.”

  “Doesn’t it deafen you? Or get confusing?”

  She shakes her head. “My hearing is sensitive, not delicate. I can hear sounds other people find inaudible, but nothing hurts, no matter how loud. All those explosions before Christmas did nothing to my eardrums. As for confusing … you know the cocktail-party effect?”

  I nod. “Even in a loud cocktail party, people are amazingly good at following specific conversations.”

  “Same for me,” Miranda says. “If I concentrate, I can pick out the things I want, despite other noise.”

  I don’t ask why she was trying to hear my footsteps, or what else she’s been listening to in the past few minutes. I just start my spiel about the costume-changers.

  Miranda immediately interrupts. “I’ve been reading about Mad Geniuses.”

  She points to the computer on her desk. It’s showing a badly formatted web page with cyan text on a black background. “Most of what’s out there is bullshit,” Miranda says. “Propaganda sites sponsored by Darklings. They claim that Mad Geniuses shouldn’t be viewed as aberrations. They say that all Sparks are dangerous narcissists who set themselves above the law and society. Mad Geniuses are just more open about it.” Miranda rolls her eyes. “But if you go deeper, you can find real facts.”

  I look at the screen again. The page has the hallmarks of a wacko conspiracy site: the amateur layout, the terrible color scheme, the masses of nine-point text. Miranda reads such websites devotedly. For someone who swears by hard science, she’s weirdly enamored of screeds against the Dark.