Burning Bright s-15

by Tom Dowd

  Kyle turned to Hanna Uljaken. "Are there guest rooms here?"

  She nodded, looking slightly disheveled. He wondered for a moment if she'd actually fainted when he'd begun spurting blood. "I want to move closer to the family."

  "Of course," she said. "I can have a room ready immediately and a car sent over to the hotel for your things."

  "Thanks," he said, "but I'd better go for them myself. There are a few items there I'd rather not have anyone else touching."

  "Fine. A car and an escort will be waiting downstairs in five minutes."

  "No, don't bother. There's something I've got to do first, and fast."

  "The ritual circle is complete, as you requested," Seeks-the-Moon told him. "I'm afraid I have inconvenienced them somewhat."

  "Oh?"

  Hanna laughed. "You could say that."

  Kyle sighed. "Let me see it." Then he followed Hanna and Moon into a section of the condoplex where Kyle hadn't been before.

  "Seeks-the-Moon took over the dining room," Hanna explained. "It was the only room big enough for what he said he wanted to do." She threw open the dark wood double doors.

  The room inside was long, with a wide view east to the lake. It was, however, barely wide enough to accommodate the intricate, multilayered circle now drawn in the center of the room. Kyle looked down at its three concentric rings and the dozens of signs and symbols that filled it, some astrological, some alchemical, but all of them occult. Thirteen unlit candles circled the outer ring, seven the middle, and three the smallest, inner ring. All of it had been drawn on the hardwood floor in paints of silver and gold.

  Seeks-the-Moon looked proud.

  "Very impressive," Kyle said, removing his coat and shoulder holster and setting them on the dining room table, which had been shoved to one end of the room and covered with sheets. "And how unlike you. I wasn't expecting this symbol-set."

  "Thank you," said Seeks-the-Moon. "I knew it had to be both formidable and comfortable for you."

  Kyle nodded. "Let's get started."

  "You don't want to rest?" Seeks-the-Moon asked.

  "Good point," Kyle said, the pains in his body flaring up as a reminder. He stilled himself and focused his magical energies inward. His injuries weren't serious, but if not dealt with, they might hinder him in the ritual he was about to attempt. He could sense the damage, feel the very physical tearing and ripping of his body that mimicked the damage his spirit had taken in astral space. But it was that very spirit that would allow him to heal himself. Deep within, at the very center of his being, was his True Self, the core of his existence. It was the essence of Kyle Teller's body and soul, a template of who he was and how he should be. By channeling his magical power through his Self, he could rebuild his body, heal his wounds, and restore himself to health. He did, taking minutes to coax the flesh into wholeness. It was a process that would not be rushed.

  When he was done, and his weight back on his left leg without pain, he opened his eyes. Seeks-the-Moon was walking the edge of the ritual circle one last time, eyeing his handiwork. Hanna Uljaken was staring at Kyle, an odd, fascinated look on her face as the last visible traces of the magical energy he'd used drifted away from his body in wisps.

  Kyle smiled at her, and she managed a tiny smile in return.

  "Much better," he said.

  Seeks-the-Moon looked up. "You're ready then?"

  Kyle nodded.

  "Will you need the shirt?" Hanna asked quietly. "I can have a car sent…"

  Kyle shook his head. "No need." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small red and white sample container. "This time we can do it right."

  He turned to Seeks-the-Moon. "Odds are something's going to come after me if I can't do this fast enough. I'm going to call Winston in for extra protection."

  "If you must," Seeks-the-Moon said, shrugging.

  "Winston?" asked Hanna.

  Kyle held up his hand and shifted the frequencies of part of his spirit until they matched those of the elemental metaplane of fire. "Winston?" he called into astral space. In front of him, over the center of the circles, a spark leapt into life, and then quickly grew into a ball of flame half Kyle's own size.

  "Good afternoon," the newly called fire elemental said. "You look well."

  "Thank you," Kyle said. "You will remain here under Seeks-the-Moon's command, Winston, and work with Charlotte to guard this place and the people dwelling in it."

  The spirit nodded, but seemed amused. "That one is not the smartest of your servants," it said.

  "With great power comes great sarcasm," said Kyle. "Do as I say."

  The spirit seemed to nod again. "Of course," it said, and vanished.

  "Do you think it was referring to you or Charlotte?" Kyle asked Seeks-the-Moon, but his ally spirit didn't answer. He stood looking at the ritual circle, lost in thought. "Seeks-the-Moon, are you all right?"

  "Yes, yes," Moon said, "I'm fine. I was only thinking." Kyle walked slowly into me center of me circle, careful not to disturb any of the markings. At its heart, he could clearly see its power. Seeks-me-Moon had inscribed a powerful circle, perhaps even better than Kyle could have done. It was a disturbing thought, considering Seeks-the-Moon's origins.

  Kyle turned completely in place, waving his hand across the plane of the circle, the candles springing to life as he gestured at them. Even with the windows wide open, the powerful aura of the circle was evident. It was warm and solid and fit him perfectly.

  He removed the ampoule of blood from its protective case, opened it, and poured half into his outstretched hand. Immediately, he felt the vibrations of Mitchell Truman's life echoing through it. Kyle closed his eyes, centered himself, and when he opened them again, eight metallic wheels circled him, spinning at different rates and angles to one another. Each glowed with power and rang with a musical tone that echoed its nature.

  The power was Kyle's, and he changed the rotation of the copper wheel until it matched the vibrations of Mitchell Truman's blood pooled in his hand. The blood vibrated in response. Kyle willed the silver circle into position parallel to the copper one and slowed it until both spun at the same speed. Just as they did, the copper circle pulsed and began to rotate through its axis around him. Kyle closed his hand around the blood, and the copper wheel ran with red, crimson dancing along its edges. The wheel flashed again, and a translucent image of it expanded outward in all directions, drawn to Mitchell Truman's physical existence.

  Kyle felt the forces of the wheel traveling outward, expanding from him in an ever-growing sphere. If left to continue, bound by no other constraints, it would grow infinitely, weakening as it did, but never quite ceasing to exist.

  Some part of Kyle was with the leading edge of the magic as it rushed across the city, searching for the exact harmony that would match it. The blood in his hand was hot, burning with the power he focused. The wheels circled him, singing with energy, building upon the simple energies within.

  The blood flamed, coursing through his fingertips, but not burning him. The copper wheel resounded, and its tone increased in pitch. It had found its source. It had found Mitchell Truman.

  Kyle worked quickly. The argent circle shifted perpendicular to him, and an image of it closed around him until it reached his outstretched hand, blood-red flame leaping from between his fingers. The magical energies met there, and a flash of argent leaped in two directions. One into Kyle, merging with his aura so that he might see what lay at the other end of the ritual sending. And the other, the Sending itself, lanced outward beyond the circle, reaching for the conjunction of the mystical forces on Mitch Truman. It was only a matter of time.

  But Kyle could feel a ripple in the Sending as it surged outward. Alerted perhaps by the ritual's connection to the Truman boy, something was following his magic back through astral space. He could not sense what it was, only its approach, fast and strong.

  He pushed his casting, willing it forward, toward Mitchell. A flash of mystical energy coursed arou
nd the edges of the ritual circle. Whatever was coming, it was projecting before it, testing, probing.

  The wheels sang, their tones changing to harmony. Kyle's Sending engulfed its target, spreading across and around Mitchell Truman. He felt resistance there as whatever magical forces shielding the boy strove to disrupt his magics. But blood was to blood. Kyle's spell locked on to the boy's body, and then washed outward, writing its location into Kyle's mind. He could not see Mitchell Truman, nor anything of where he was, but the magic told him where he was. Kyle felt the location within him and knew he could find it again.

  The ritual circle flashed once more, and Kyle felt the presence coming against him grow. It was almost upon him when he collapsed the ritual, the blood in his hand burning away, reduced to ash and smoke. The wheels faded, the connection, the path to Mitchell Truman's body dissolving.

  In his mind and far off in the distance, Kyle then heard a wail. A terrible, alien cry of anger. Frustrated at the dispersing of the bridge it had been following, leaving it nothing to travel. The howl died away, fading with the magic.

  Kyle stood, his left hand smoking, the final traces of the ritual folding in on itself. The candles around the ritual circle faded, and Kyle nodded to himself, satisfied.

  "I found him," he said.

  14

  The ride to his hotel was uneventful, and escorted by Daniel Truman's own corporate guards. Despite the assurances of the driver of his car, Kyle had no doubt he and his group had somehow been followed. He'd seen how much interest the Knight Errant guards around Truman Tower had shown in watching their little motorcade of three cars form up.

  He was sure Knight Errant would not delay in responding to Daniel Truman's decision to take matters into his own hands. When Kyle had told Truman that he'd discovered Mitchell's location, the man hadn't hesitated even a heartbeat in telling Kyle to take care of it. Then he and his wife had walked slowly out of the room, Truman with the air of someone who'd lost what was most precious to him. He didn't understand everything that was going on, least of all the nature of what had destroyed his son, but he wanted some kind of retribution, some kind of justice. Kyle was more than willing to oblige him.

  To do so meant taking action, and fast, but Kyle was reluctant to call on Knight Errant for help. Not only did they seem to have their own agenda, but the organization's forces, at least those he wanted to deal with, were almost exclusively trained for site protection, not field work. That left only one choice in Kyle's mind, a force that was standing and ready, and probably more man willing to jump at the bidding of Truman Technologies-the Chicago law enforcement organization, Eagle Security.

  At the moment, Kyle knew only the vague direction and distance of Mitchell's location: north, farther man North Avenue, but not as far as Poster. He left Hanna to contact Eagle and to use all the political clout Truman had to get them moving, fast. Kyle suggested a staging area in the vicinity of North and Western. He'd meet them there after retrieving some things still at his hotel.

  At the Marriott, the staff was all sweetness and light as he asked for access to his security strongbox. One of the managers led him to the secure area and then went to retrieve the box, but only after Kyle had him repeat the password three times to be sure he got it right. He did, and returned with the box a few minutes later. The man handed it over without a word, though Kyle thought the single bead of sweat running down from his temple statement enough.

  Kyle let the box scan his thumb print and retinal pattern before keying in the special code to open the box. About the size of a briefcase, but much deeper, the box had a simple latching lid that lifted completely off. Inside, Kyle found his magical accessories still wrapped in black silk and velvet, exactly as he'd left them.

  There were two metal bracelets braided from heavy wires of silver, copper, and the mystical metal orichalcum. Kyle slipped one around each wrist Over the middle and next fingers of his left hand he slid silver rings set with a diamond and sapphire, respectively. On his right hand in like positions he put on silver rings, one set with a ruby and one with an emerald. Around his neck and under his clothing he hung an amulet made of golden-coppery metals and dominated by a large opal. And finally, he placed an ornate silver and orichalcum bladed knife, inlaid with jewels of all kinds and designed in the Egyptian style, into a custom black leather sheath that fit under the arm not girded with his shoulder holster. Feeling overburdened and somewhat foolish, he headed up to his room.

  ****

  “The hotel assures me that the scrambling on my line is about the best that money can buy," Kyle told Dave Strevich.

  “I’m it is," Strevich said. "My system says yours is saying the right things, but that doesn't mean I'm going to answer any questions."

  "I’m switching to encryption now." Kyle leaned forward, typing the command into the keyboard. Strevich's image blurred as the man cursed, and it remained distorted and unviewable for a few moments until he put his system into like mode and the two machines had agreed on how to talk to each other. When the image returned, it was no longer three-dimensional and it lacked color fidelity, but Kyle had no doubt that for a short while at least the signal was indecipherable.

  "You insist on getting into trouble, don't you?" Strevich said. "Do you have any idea how many alarms your actions in Chicago are setting off?"

  "I can imagine," Kyle said. "All things considered."

  Strevich's eyes narrowed. "The drek's gonna hit the pavement real soon now. The suits upstairs aren't happy with Knight Errant's activities in Chicago, despite the fact that they're real friendly with Ares Macrotech these days."

  "Why not?" Kyle asked innocently. "Knight Errant hasn't done anything wrong."

  "Don't play dumb, Kyle."

  "I wouldn't have to if you'd given me the scan straight up."

  "I couldn't. Still can't, you know that."

  "Tell me about the bugs," Kyle said.

  Strevich's face hardened. "Jam it, Kyle."

  "Tell me about the true forms."

  Strevich didn't answer.

  "Tell me about the flesh forms."

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Dammit, Dave, you're leaving me disconnected here! You've got to tell me something."

  "I don't have to do anything of the kind. The problem is being addressed, in our own way. It takes time, but we're handling it."

  "Really?" said Kyle, the word coming out a little harsher than he'd intended. "It doesn't look that way from here."

  "Walk away, Kyle," Strevich said. "You still can. When the big red, white, and blue scooper comes along to clean up all the drek, it's going to scrape you up too if you're not careful."

  "No."

  "Walk away. Take Beth and Natalie on a vacation," Strevich told him. "Stop worrying about everything. Watch some simsense."

  "You're frizzed."

  Strevich spoke in a very deliberate manner, seeming to choose his words very carefully. "I saw an interesting sim the other night. Story was unbelievable, but the effects were wizzer. You'd almost swear it was real."

  Kyle eyed him suspiciously. "Do you remember the name?"

  "Nah," Strevich said. "I didn't see it from the beginning, but it was by that simsense chica. The one that Bettleman liked when we were all at Quantico for extended weapons training that time. Remember?"

  Kyle nodded. It was years ago, but he drought he did.

  "Anyway," Strevich went on, "you should sense it. Real wiz. Real hype. I think it was her last one."

  "I'll try and find it." Kyle recalled the simsense star Strevich was talking about, a beautiful dark-haired girl named Euphoria. Kyle wasn't a big simsense fan, but he remembered her. He had no idea which sim Strevich was talking about, though. Or why he was going on about it at me moment.

  "Good," Strevich told him. "You do that, and I'll talk to you some other time."

  Kyle nodded, still suspicious. "Later."

  Strevich waved, and then disconnected. Kyle stared at the blank screen a
moment, then switched the telecom system over to me hotel's own entertainment library. According to the information he'd seen, it contained thousands of new, hot, and classic simsense programs on demand for immediate viewing. He keyed in the name "Euphoria" and requested a list of her titles in the system. He had a feeling that if Strevich had been trying to tell him something, he'd know as soon as he saw the title. He never quite got the chance to see the list.

  "It's called Against the Hive," came a woman's voice behind him.

  Kyle threw himself forward violently and then kicked himself sideways beyond an oversized chair and down to the floor behind it. He came up quickly, Ceska vz/120 pistol in one hand, jeweled knife in the other, and half a dozen combat spells flooding his mind.

  The woman was crouched low to the floor, one hand across her knee and the other on the, floor for balance. Even as she was, Kyle could tell she was tall, with shoulder-length black hair and bright silver-blue eyes that reflected the window light back at him. She wore black leather pants, a tight, midriff-revealing black leather halter top, and a long-sleeved green leather jacket. When she smiled, Kyle felt more than a little fear. She was painfully beautiful, and he had little doubt who she was.

  Her bright, unblinking gaze locked with his. "Apparently, some lucky simsense producer happened to be in the right place at the right time and got footage of Knight Errant attacking a real ant spirit hive. Saved them quite a bit of money on special effects, I'd say.”

  "Of course, why present the truth when you can make money selling it as fiction?" she said, standing up slowly, gracefully unfolding herself. "Not that anyone would have believed it"

  "Please don't come any closer," Kyle said.

  "I don't intend to. I was simply tired of crouching there."

  Kyle clenched the pistol tighter and risked slipping his perception into astral space. Her aura was powerful, and odd. Its shape didn't seem to match that of the body she wore. She smiled again, and he willed his foci to life, mentally triggering the final mystical connections that empowered them. He felt the energy, the potential, arise within him as each activated in turn.