Rogue Ragtime

by K Alexis

  Mea nodded at the painting. "Why did you sneak off to see this?"

  Steh returned to the image. A few different streaks of color had been chaotically painted on a matted, mauve paper. At the bottom of the canvas was a smudged fingerprint, barely visible but circled in pencil nevertheless. "You cannot pass up a Gerlov," he said.

  Mea took a step forward. "Even a late-period piece?"

  "How could you ask such a question? A million times yes. Just because the upper-classes maligned him after his anti-magic speech doesn't mean the R'lyeh series should be banished to attics and basements. He believed in these pieces more than any of his others. Why else did he disappear after that particular round of vitriol from his critics? He'd been a controversial figure for years."

  "I know the history," Mea said. "Why buy 'The Calamity' though? There are plenty of other paintings in the R'lyeh Exhibit considered superior."

  Steh shook his head. "What do the old critics know? I think it’s his greatest insight. He captured something from beyond. Something no-one else could see."

  Despite her better judgement, Mea got closer. Steh was right that a Gerlov was impossible to skip. "There's a theory he was a far-seeker," she said. "If you put all of his works in a room, you would be able to see everything that would and will happen to us after the Cataclysm."

  "Perhaps." Steh's gaze was fixated on the painting. His eyes seemed to jump from one stroke on the canvas to another. "Or perhaps all of history is embedded in his paintings. Where do you think this one sits in our timeline: past, present or future?"

  Mea was beside him now. She could feel "The Calamity" press down on her as if it was gravity itself. Everything outside of the painting's magical aura seemed to blur and distort; only Steh remained in focus. "I’m not an expert," she demurred.

  "Neither am I," he said. "Aren't we inexperts allowed to have opinions?"

  Mea pointed to a series of blue dashes on top of a cracked yellow splotch. "I always feel this one is a warning. It's saying that our greatest passions are our weaknesses. In our moment of need, the stars will tempt us and destroy the Earth."

  "And why would Gerlov try to warn those he hated?" Steh asked. "Why would a cynical, burnt-out artist try to help those who despised him?"

  "Because he was magical," Mea answered, her caution fading as the discussion became more important with each passing sentence. "Look at the colors," she pointed to a twisting blue that appeared to be shifting into green but had frozen just before its chromatic transition. "No-one's been able to replicate this. He passed decades ago, and yet this mystery remains. I think he didn’t know what his talent meant. He could do things that no-one else could, and he felt alone. No-one understood his pain because he could transverse places others couldn’t." She scuffed her foot against the floor. "Sometimes I think he felt like a fraud. Critics wanted to see him sweat to create great art, but he wasn't able to and it haunted him. His art isn't about exertion; it's about effortlessness. It's about not exerting." She grabbed Steh's hand and placed it onto the painting. "To see it, you cannot want to see."

  Steh glared at her, but kept his hand on the piece. It took several breaths before she could feel his pulse steady and his muscles relax. He closed his eyes, his heartbeat lowering further as he did. Mea waited.

  Suddenly, he lurched back. "There's a … there's a …" he stammered as he pointed at the mostly empty canvas.

  "Yes," she said.

  Steh swallowed. His hand slid into his pocket. "Is this the knowledge of the Navigator's?" he asked. "You lock it forever from mortal man because it's too dangerous for our own good?"

  The noise of the pub and its patrons started to penetrate the bubble that had existed. People's pointless conversations cut into Mea's consciousness. She braced her right foot and raised her arms to waist level. "Why do you care about my race's politics?" she asked him. "They don't concern you."

  Steh lunged forward, a glint of steel in his hand. Mea grabbed his wrist, crushed it, and brought her fist down on her friend's skull. It burst—the force shattering his bone and exploding pieces of his brain and skull everywhere. She spun around to check if there were any other attackers. There were none. Nor did the bar's patrons seem to mind the carnage that had happened. Well-dressed guests continued down the hall as if the splatters were part of an avant-garde display.

  She reached out and touched one the guests; her hand went through them. "Fuck," she said as she started to run back to where the rest of her group had been.

  Sat, 18 Oct 65 P.C.T., 5:44pm: Junko [channel 37A4R]

  Aw, honey, I wish I could, but you know the Assembly prohibits provisional watchers from having access to critical information.

  And, unfortunately, I've got some more bad news …

  Sun, 19 Oct 65 P.C.T., 4:50am: Azra [P. Watcher 18034568X]

  I'm not getting promoted, am I?

  Seven: The Criminal

  "AH, THERE SHE is now," Wilson said. He was a tall man, an inch higher than Agra when he stood straight, but well past his prime. A large gut hung out in front of him, diminished only due to the bespoke shirt, jacket and pants he wore. And if a person could locate Wilson's finely shaved hair on his head, they would have noticed it was greying. In contrast to what Lewis had implied, he was not a centaur nor white; rather, his skin had a faint praline tone and indicated a Maori heritage.

  "My dear, there is no reason to run," he said in a silvery voice. "I was simply chatting with your friends here and thanking them for clearing up the road." He pointed at Steh. "Your inventor kindly mentioned that you are looking for a cuckoo clock."

  Mea snarled, "Did he?"

  "Oh, did something happen? You seem very pale, and I mean that in a medical way, not a racial one."

  "I was admiring your Gerlov," she said.

  "Ah." Wilson's smile dropped. "So, my trap was ineffective. That is rather unfortunate."

  Tath squinted at the pub's owner. "You set a trap for us? We don't even know you. And we know a lot of fat fucks."

  "Not for you, Mixter Morehouse—for her," Wilson replied, gesturing indolently toward Mea. "We have unfinished business."

  "How do you know my last name?" Tath demanded, making a circle with her right hand's fourth finger. A glowing red dagger appeared in her palm, another Steh invention.

  "I thought I killed you last time, Kekeriwai," Mea said, cutting in.

  "You are quite the optimist, my dear," the pub's owner replied. "I battle for money, not pride. There was nothing of value to be extracted when we fought, so I left early. You are quite poor after all.

  "However, you did cost me my best Navigator. And no matter how impressed I am that you found out his summoning name, scores must be settled." He snapped his fingers, and all the patrons disappeared. The hubbub silenced and the waterfall stopped. The room fell quiet. He stretched.

  "As you might be piecing together," he said to the rest of the group while exercising, "I am Kekeriwai Wilson. The Kekeriwai Wilson who scorched London to ash and has a hand in every illegal dealing across this fair, blue Earth. I would suggest you do not take these claims as the mere ramblings of a drunken braggart wishing to terrify the barkeep into giving them another round. Death and I are more intimate than most."

  Tath followed him warily, her weapon poised to strike. "My parents used to tell me and my sisters stories about you."

  "I've been around a long time: since the Cataclysm, one might say. A benefit of reading the right books."

  "What do you want?" Tath pressed.

  "Revenge?" He laughed. It was honeyed and toneless all at once. "No, that is a self-indulgent dream. I wished to understand my opponent more. And I have." He wheeled around and put his fingers on his lips. "Why don't you tell them why you're still alive, Meagh? What did you have to do to survive my surprise attack?"

  "I killed a magical copy of Steh."

  "Did you hesitate?"

  "No."

  "Were you absolutely sure it was a magical copy? Or did you think he was brainwa
shed?"

  Mea went silent. Her eyes turned yellow.

  Agra leaned in. "You don't have to answer that. No-one wants to know."

  "I do," Kekeriwai said. "I want to know exactly how you felt when I took something precious from you, just like you did from me."

  Tath lunged and sliced upwards at Wilson.

  Kekeriwai dodged the attack by leaning back. His action looked less like someone who was engaged in a life-or-death struggle and more akin to a person avoiding a pesky fly.

  In response to missing her target, Tath hopped backward and threw her blade. It was attached to a magical chain that was embedded in her arm. The contraption made the knife appear like she had thrown a spear across the room.

  Kekeriwai did not attempt to doge the weapon. He raised his hand and motioned downward. Tath's blade fell to the ground and dissolved into nothingness.

  "Steh," Tath called out.

  The group's mage moved his hands apart and a crackling, blue barrier appeared between them. He flicked his wrists forward and the barrier expanded. It hovered a foot or so in front of Steh, Tath and Agra; its height covered the tallest of them, Agra, by about a foot.

  At the same time Steh was creating a shield, Mea bounded into the air with her fists raised above her head. Before she could land her attack on Kekeriwai, however, he clapped his hands twice and floated off the ground. Her swing missed him and struck the tiles on the floor. The force of her overhead smash cracked the white marble slates in multiple places.

  "This will not go how you plan," Wilson said to the group.

  Tath repeated her dagger's summoning motion, but her attempt proved fruitless as it produced nothing. After two more failed tries, she seemingly gave up and conjured her bow. She yelled at Kekeriwai, "That's the same shit I hear from every fucker we've put down. Do all you assholes get your taunts from a book?"

  When her statement received no response from Wilson, Tath nodded at Agra and they sprinted away from Steh's shield in opposite directions. Tath headed to the left of the barrier while Agra went to the right of it. As Agra ran, he threw knives at Kekeriwai. Most of them went wide of the crime lord, but four were on target and looked like they would hit.

  However, despite the blades speed and number, Wilson caught all of them mid-air with one hand. He dropped the weapons to the ground as if they had been covered in an unspeakably disgusting substance, and he had been sullied by touching them.

  After the final knife clinked and clanked as it settled on the tiles, Kekeriwai lazily lifted a hand and summoned a front shield. It was solid orange and had a clean reflective glow, indicating a perfect casting.

  Tath skidded to a halt and readied an arrow. "Cover," she yelled at Steh and Mea.

  The mutant bounded over to Steh. Once she was next to him, Steh expanded and contorted his shield until it had become a sphere and covered them both.

  Tath fired her arrow. It went high above Kekeriwai and then exploded. Ten metal balls shot from its tip and fell toward the floor in an umbrella shape. "Agra," she yelled. "I need some support."

  Agra changed directions and headed back toward Wilson. He spun a knife at the crime lord as if it was a Frisbee. However, it went wide of the hovering Kekeriwai before the metal balls could reach him.

  "Enough," Wilson commanded while peering down at the group. He snapped his fingers and vanished from where he had been hovering in the air. The metal balls crashed onto the ground and exploded. The multiple mini-detonations shattered the tiles they had made contact with and sent hundreds of small marble shards shooting through the air. While they did not travel far enough to hit Agra or Tath, they did make it to Steh's barrier. When they touched the blue shield, they disintegrated on contact and made a slight sizzling sound.

  Agra's knife, the one that had gone wide earlier, boomeranged back toward Kekeriwai's pre-teleport position. However, as he was not there, the weapon hit nothing and lost its momentum a few feet after passing through where the crime lord had been. The blade clattered awkwardly on the pile of rubble and singed titles.

  "Fuck," Tath said, scanning the room. "You got anything, Mea?"

  Mea shook her head. Her eyes were dark yellow and her fists clenched. "Steh, how much longer can you hold this shield?" she asked.

  "Twenty seconds," he replied. "Maybe twenty-five."

  "Agra, get back here," Mea called out.

  Agra followed Mea's cue and sprinted across the floor. He was halfway to the shield when Kekeriwai appeared precisely where he had been floating previously. The crime lord gazed down at them, now approvingly. "A multi-vector attack. Your group is better than I had anticipated."

  "Stairs," Mea yelled at Steh, drowning out Wilson's next comment.

  Steh lowered the barrier and reached into his jacket. A clink of metal could be heard around the room. He muttered an incantation and threw his cards into the air. They formed a makeshift staircase.

  Agra sprinted toward the steps as Tath readied another arrow.

  Kekeriwai nodded respectfully at the new strategy. He looked like a father who was pleased with his children's performance. "Your foolishness to persist in an engagement with an obviously superior opponent is both an asset and a liability," he said. "However, all brawls are determined by what you are willing to lose." Wilson focused his gaze on Tath and lowered his right hand. The ceiling above her collapsed.

  Mea broke ranks and sprinted toward the group's archer.

  In contrast, Agra did not deviate from their strategy despite Tath's cry. He bounded onto the floating staircase and began to climb it. Even though each card could fit in the size of someone's palm, Agra nimbly scaled them—and, as he neared the top, he began to ascend two card-steps at a time. On the last stair, he leapt with a knife angled down in each hand. Similar to all the other attacks the group had made, Kekeriwai teleported at the last moment, ensuring Agra struck air.

  However, unlike the previous time the crime lord had teleported, Kekeriwai re-appeared a few feet from where he had been seconds before. Wilson smirked as he watched Agra attempt to position himself in a way that would cause the least amount of injury when he crashed onto the floor. Unfortunately for the knife-wielder, it was clear that absent some assistance, he would not survive the fall.

  Traditionally, Mea would have caught Agra as she was the strongest of the group, but that had proved impossible in this instance as the rubble from the roof had almost buried Tath, ensuring group's catcher was too preoccupied. In fact, despite Mea's immense strength, she had barely cleared enough of the debris to see slithers of Tath by the time Agra had begun his descent. As the archer's clothes were ripped, torn and blood-stained, Mea slowed down her excavation—but each time she removed a piece of rubble, Tath groaned.

  Glancing at the distracted Mea and plummeting Agra, Steh gulped and began to mutter another spell. His hands shook as they made four quick movements during his incantation. After he had finished, Steh's casting hand seemed tense as if a strong cord was pulling at each finger. Agra stopped falling and froze midair.

  "Celestial magic," Kekeriwai said, floating lower. "An unusual power." He pulled out a small codex of spells from his waistcoat and flipped through it to a page near the back. While staring at the book, he flicked his wrist eight times at different angles. A murky puddle bubbled up from the tiles. It compressed into an oddly humanoid shape, one with long arms and a triangular torso.

  Mea held Tath's head in her hands. "Please, don't die today," she said.

  Tath opened her eyes, their tawny-coloring shifting to chestnut. "Barely a scratch," she said before laughing. Her hair began to float upwards.

  Mea spun, catching Tath's head with her knee. The archer grunted. "Steh?" Mea queried with rising panic in her voice.

  Steh was in the middle of the room, his left hand keeping Agra in place while his right made progressively more complicated movements. Both his hands proceeded to transform from something human into jittery slivery threads that jutted and jolted at alarmingly faster speeds. The quicke
r he moved, the brighter the substance glowed. The thickness of the threads began to expand, encompassing both him and Agra, and then the monster that had been summoned previously. Kekeriwai floated farther and farther away from the expanding silver substance.

  Mea pushed off the ground, bounding toward Steh as soon as her feet touched the tiles. She went straight into the glowing circle and disappeared from view. Although she could not be seen, the tiles could be heard cracking with each step she took toward where Steh had transformed. And then with a mighty thwack—a sound similar to flesh hitting steel—the light disappeared and Steh flew across the room. He crashed into a balcony and fell onto the floor, unconscious but breathing.

  Mea caught Agra before staring up at Kekeriwai. "I didn't know it was a copy," she said. "I didn't care."

  "Disappointing," Wilson replied, coming down. "I wanted you to feel my loss, but it appears I created the wrong illusion." He looked over at Tath. "However, now that we are technically even, it does open up new possibilities." He walked over to Mea, his frame diminishing the mutant's five feet and ten inches. "You need a cuckoo clock created by Pierre LeFran; I need a group of slightly unbalanced mercenaries to save another Navigator. Perhaps we can work out our differences through camaraderie rather than a profit-empty grudge-match."

  Sun, 19 Oct 65 P.C.T., 4:50am: Azra [P. Watcher 18034568X]

  I'm not getting promoted, am I?

  Mon, 20 Oct 65 P.C.T., 2:07pm: Junko [Channel 37A4R]

  Your deductive skills are what makes you a great lover. But, no, you're not.

  It's always the same problem: you keep getting caught.

  Eight: The Decision

  MEA STEPPED OUT of Kekeriwai's portal and into Wellington Harbor. The deal and subsequent truce with Wilson had left a bitter taste in her mouth and she was glad to be out of his lair. In payment for the cuckoo clock they required for Ristie, the group had agreed to search for the missing Navigator. Not that their agreement had made Wilson generous with the information he had provided them with. In fact, all they had received was a decades-old picture and a location, Ras Al Khaimah. Wilson had not known, or had chosen not to tell them, the Navigator's current alias.