by Myke Cole
The silence dragged on as the elevator descended, leaving Harlequin to contemplate his own reflection and Morelli’s certainty that Grace was Latent. Crazy. Harlequin had slept with Grace, had been as close to her as another person could possibly be. If there’d even been a hint of a current in her, he’d have felt it.
Yet he still found himself reaching his current out to her, probing, feeling. Nothing. The ravings of a madwoman, nothing more.
‘Where are we going?’ Morelli asked, as the elevator began to descend. Nobody answered, and they rode in silence for what felt to Harlequin like an awfully long time. At last, the car shuddered to a stop, and the doors opened.
The room beyond was plain, a bench running along one white wall, a door beside it. A huge pane of one-way glass occupied the wall opposite. In the center of the room was a reclining chair, padded restraints attached to the armrests.
A bald young man with a beard and glasses stood beside the chair. He wore a white lab coat over his plaid work shirt and jeans. ‘Hello, Morelli,’ he smiled. ‘Thanks for coming! We’re really excited to get started here. I’m Dan.’
He turned on a monitor beside the chair, began unbundling electrical leads and wires that snaked over the chair’s shoulder near the headrest. ‘You want some water?’ he asked. ‘A soda or anything?’
Morelli only stared straight ahead, her jaw slack again, eyes unfocused. She placidly allowed herself to be steered to the chair and seated. Dan and Weiss began to fold the restraints over her arms. Harlequin could feel Morelli’s erratic and powerful current pulsing against Rampart’s, the only indicator that she was reacting to what was unfolding around her.
‘She’s not resisting,’ Harlequin pointed out. ‘We don’t need that, surely.’
‘We don’t know what we’ll need,’ Crucible said.
‘We’re not going to need them in a minute,’ Weiss added, ‘but it can’t hurt to be cautious.’ He caught Harlequin’s glance, saw the disapproval there. ‘For her own safety,’ he added.
Once Morelli was strapped in, Grace gestured to the door beside the one-way glass. ‘Come along, gentlemen, let’s allow Dan to do his work.’
Harlequin didn’t move. ‘I want to stay and observe.’
Crucible looked at him. ‘Jan, come on. You’ll just be in the way.’
‘Sir, respectfully, I took this woman in. I’m responsible for her.’
‘No harm is going to come to her, Lieutenant,’ Dan said.
The friendly smile, beard, and casual clothing were disarming, but he swarmed over Morelli’s head, connecting the electrical leads, tapping the monitor as colored images of her brain patterns began to flash across it. He placed a plastic case on the chair’s armrest behind her elbow. ‘But I have no objection if you feel better staying.’ The only machine Harlequin recognized was an EKG, the steady, rapid pinging and white hills and valleys of the graph showing a level of anxiety not reflected on Morelli’s near-catatonic face.
‘Come on, Jan,’ Grace said. ‘Your man here’ – she gestured to Rampart – ‘will keep her Suppressed. There’s no need for you to be out on the floor.’
‘I’m staying,’ Harlequin said. ‘Unless it’s an order?’ he asked Crucible pointedly.
Crucible looked at Dan, who shrugged. ‘Fine,’ he said, then left through the door, followed by Grace and Rampart. The security guards seated themselves on the bench, arms folded.
Dan nodded at the one-way glass, then turned to the camera mounted to the ceiling. ‘Clinical trial. Initial dose of LL-14 administered to subject alpha.’
He produced a syringe from the plastic case, filled with a light yellow fluid that looked disturbingly like urine. ‘Are you ready, Morelli? You might feel a little pinch.’
She continued to stare into the distance, not responding. Dan waited a moment before wiping her wrist with an alcohol swab. ‘Little pinch,’ he muttered, and slid the needle in.
She showed no reaction beyond a slight wince. Her mouth closed. Dan finished depressing the plunger and stood back, putting a Band-Aid across her wrist. ‘Dose administered – 10 cc.’
He dropped the empty syringe into a can marked with a biohazard sticker and crossed his hands in front of his thighs, watching the monitor intently.
‘Now what?’ Harlequin asked.
‘Now we watch and wait,’ Dan answered. ‘Shouldn’t take long.’
It didn’t.
Her heart rate began to slow, the EKG leveling out to a regular, steady chime. The rise and fall of her chest eased. The monitor behind her headrest showed the oval shape of her brain, the splotches of red slowly fading to purple, then to a deep blue.
But Harlequin felt an instant change in her magical current. The erratic pulsing, straining against the Suppression, slowly eased into an even droning.
She turned her head, focusing on the wall. She looked down at the restraints, pulled against them. ‘Why you got me in these?’ she asked, her voice even.
‘If I take them off,’ Dan asked, ‘what will you do?’
Morelli looked around the room, noting the guards, the single door, and the sealed elevator shaft. ‘This chair’s fine,’ she answered. ‘Comfortable.’
Dan nodded at the guards, who came closer as he undid the restraints. ‘How do you feel, Morelli?’ he asked.
She rubbed at her wrists, sat up a bit. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. She blinked. ‘Am I going to get paid for this?’
Dan laughed. ‘You volunteered, but I promise you’ll get fed and housed. How’s that?’
She sank back into the chair. ‘That’s good.’
‘Okay, Morelli. Now, we’re going to do some things to put stress on you. Show you a scary movie, maybe poke you a little bit. Are you okay with that?’
She shrugged. ‘Then I can eat?’
‘Then you can eat.’
‘Okay. Can I have something now?’
‘Sure.’ Dan motioned to one of the guards, who grabbed a pack of cookies from a small table and handed it to her. ‘Ready for the movie now?’
‘Sure,’ she said. A screen descended from the ceiling before her. As the credits began to roll, she glanced at Harlequin, noticing him for the first time. ‘I remember you,’ she said. ‘You cracked my head.’
‘You cracked your own head,’ Harlequin responded. ‘You were burning down a building. Someone had to stop you.’
Dan sucked in his breath slightly at this, watching the monitor intently. A brief flash of red in her limbic system sparked for an instant, only to be checked by another flash from her neocortex. He turned to Harlequin and twirled his wrist as if to say, keep going.
But, in the end, all Harlequin could manage was, ‘Are you okay?’
She shrugged, smiled. She nestled back into the chair, resting her elbows on the restraints and munching happily on a cookie as she looked up at the screen. The trembling violin music accompanying the credits told him it was most certainly a horror flick. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘You don’t look so good.’
And then she focused, letting the images draw her in.
Grace shifted beneath him, the cool smoothness of her skin sending sparks through his body. She turned, moaned sleepily, opened her eyes first into slits, then wider as she realized Harlequin was awake and looking at her.
At last she frowned. ‘You realize that’s creepy.’
‘I like looking at you; sue me.’
‘Silly boy. I’m the boss. I don’t get my hands dirty. I have a legal team for that.’
He snorted. ‘Do your worst. I’m on a lieutenant’s salary, it’s not like you’ll get any money.’
She shrugged and propped herself up on an elbow. The satin sheet fell away to reveal one breast, the soft moonlight filtering through the blinds making her skin a gray-white alabaster surface. Perfectly inhuman.
He smiled, kissed her. ‘I don’t use magic except as specifically authorized in the line of duty.’
Now it was her turn to snort. ‘So . . . that whole fucking on the ceiling thing, and the thing you did with the lightning . . . what did you call it?’
‘Electrolux.’ He laughed aloud.
‘Right, Electrolux. That was in the line of duty?’
‘Well, we’re working together, right? It’s good for the emerging contractual relationship.’
She laughed again and nestled against him, gently kissing the top of his pectoral muscle where it met his collarbone. ‘Love this part,’ she said. Then she sat back, her face suddenly serious.
‘What’s wrong? You’re not awake and staring at me because I’m some kind of vision.’
‘Actually,’ he said, ‘you are kind of hot.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Whatever. What’s going on?’
‘I keep thinking about Morelli,’ he said.
‘I knew it,’ she said, looking down at the sheets.
‘It’s not right,’ he said. ‘She wasn’t in a fit mental state to make the call to volunteer.’
Grace propped herself up on her fists, anger flashing in her eyes. ‘Jan, she ran. She’s legally dead. She’s lucky she’s not being strapped down to a gurney for lethal injection.’
‘What if that’s what’s actually happening? Just more slowly? What if the drug is slowly degrading her brain? What if she’s getting cancer?’
‘That’s not happening, but even if it were, how is that different?’
‘I have no problem with someone’s facing justice, Grace. I do have a problem with their being used for medical experiments. Especially when it’s . . . coerced. We’re supposed to be the good guys here.’
‘You haven’t been listening to Crucible,’ Grace said. ‘This is justice. This is the law. Everything going on here is authorized.’
Harlequin shook his head, reached for words.
She pushed herself out of bed, racing around the bedroom to find the clothing they’d hastily scattered in their eagerness to be with one another, sliding on her panties, grabbing her skirt.
He sat up, marveling at how sexy she was even when racing to get dressed. ‘I kind of liked you better without all that.’
‘Shut up,’ she said. ‘Get dressed.’
He looked at the clock on the wall, the numbers displayed from a recessed projector in the ceiling, expensive and state-of-the-art, like everything she owned. ‘It’s almost ten,’ he said. ‘Where are we going?’
‘To the lab. We’re going to pay Morelli a visit.’
‘What? Now?’
‘Yes, now,’ she said, pulling on her blouse and buttoning it quickly.
‘Grace. What are you . . .’
She spun on him, stabbing with a finger. ‘I am getting tired of the implication that we’re using her as a lab rat. We have helped that woman. We have taken someone emotionally disturbed and given her some measure of control over her emotions. Not only is she not getting cancer, she’s able to think straight for the first time in her life.
‘You seem to have forgotten who I am, Jan. Yes, I’ve done well for myself. But that is incidental and always has been. It isn’t why I do this. So, we’re going to visit Morelli right now, and you’re going to pay attention this time. This drug is the best chance the world has to put a lid on magic, to make it usable and controllable by everyone. And that’s just one possible application. We’re doing double duty, both saving someone’s life and moving toward that goal. You need to know that, and I mean really know it. So, let’s go.’
He gaped at her sudden outrage. ‘Grace, it’s late . . .’
Her hand flew to her face. When she pulled it away, Harlequin saw a bright trail of blood, slowly working its way from her nostril down to her upper lip. ‘Damn it.’
‘You’re bleeding,’ he said.
She dabbed at her nose experimentally. ‘Oh, yeah. Let me get a tissue.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘Sure. Happens a lot. Too much coke in my early days.’
‘Ha. Wait. Are you serious?’
‘As a heart attack. You don’t make it as a junior business analyst on Wall Street if you aren’t doing blow with your colleagues. Don’t worry, I quit a long time ago. This is the enduring wages of my sin. I’ll be right back.’
As she left, Harlequin sighed, slid out of the bed, and began fumbling on his pants. The ends didn’t justify the means here, and he was right to be bothered by what was going on. But a part of him mourned the loss of the intimate moment, lying in bed with this amazing woman. If only he’d kept his mouth shut, he wouldn’t be shrugging on his clothes to go down to the lab. As he buttoned his pants, he felt an urge, and followed Grace to the bathroom.
‘Gang way,’ he said. ‘I’m willing to go outside in the middle of the night just to let you make a point, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to get to piss firs . . .’
Grace stood frozen, a syringe in her wrist. She quickly pulled it out, hiding it behind her back.
But not before he noticed two things.
First, the syringe was filled with a yellow liquid that looked disturbingly like urine. The white adhesive label had been peeled off, leaving the uneven residue of the backing.
Second, it had been faint, merely the whisper of an echo, but Harlequin had felt something. Anyone else would have dismissed it as a shiver, the games our nerves play with us when we stand up suddenly or twist our backs wrong.
But Harlequin had made his living for the past four years sniffing out rogue magic.
He knew a current when he felt one.
Before he knew what he was doing, he crossed the space between them, grabbed her wrist with one hand, and reached behind her back with the other. She twisted, tried to pull free, her head butting against his chest. She was strong, athletic, but he had at least fifty pounds on her and held her easily, his fingers digging into her palm and raking the syringe out of her hand.
He brought it around and stared at it while she swore at him. ‘Let me go!’
He did, feeling again for the current. It was gone. ‘What the fuck is this?’ A tiny pool of the fluid remained in the bottom of the syringe. He glanced again at the label, carefully scratched off. It was possible he was mistaken, but this looked exactly like LL-14. 60 ccs. Six times the dose he’d watched Dan inject into Morelli.
‘Is this . . .’ He’d pay for it later, but for now he was icecold rational. The old mantra rose in his mind. Easy now. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast. ‘Is this LL-14?’
Grace opened her mouth, then closed it. She pulled away once more, then gave up.
‘Jesus, Grace. You’re Latent.’
She gave no answer, only stared back toward the bedroom.
Betrayal. Hurt and rage swamped him. He felt his magical tide rise and fought it down. She’d played him for a fool on the night they’d met, and she hadn’t stopped playing him since.
‘Aren’t you?’ His voice rose.
‘Are you going to kill me?’ she asked. Her voice trembled. Grace the CEO, the power broker, the self-made millionaire was gone. This was the voice of a frightened girl.
Just as quickly as it came, the anger fled. In its place was a dull ache, grief for the relationship that now must change, compassion for this woman who must endure it. This beautiful, brilliant woman, who gave him the one safe space he’d ever known since magic had found him.
‘No, Grace.’ His voice was thick. ‘I’m not going to kill you.’
Hicks’s voice filled his head, and he felt his knees weaken. Grace Lyons made her fortune in finance. Why the hell is she suddenly dabbling in pharmaceuticals?
>
‘You weren’t just looking to do good. You came up Latent and searched for a way to hide it. 10 ccs controls it, but 60 ccs makes it undetectable, is that how it works?’
‘I was trying to do some good, Jan. Manifesting got me thinking about it. The SOC has made it impossible for people to even think about controlling Latency, and Channel’s work was my answer to that.’
He put his back to the wall and slid down to a sitting position, folding his arms over his knees. ‘Jesus. Antipsychotic. And I bought it like it was on sale. You fucking lied to me, Grace. You used me and lied to me.’
‘No, Jan. I didn’t. Nothing has changed. Developing Limbic Dampener can still help you, help me, help anyone Latent. Look what it’s done for Morelli already!’
‘You’re a Selfer.’
‘What does that even mean, Jan? I haven’t hurt anyone. I am in complete control of my magic. Hell, you didn’t even know I was Latent until ten seconds ago! I am producing a drug that will revolutionize the way you use magic, that will cure mental illness! I’m a productive, contributing, ethical member of society. If that’s being a Selfer, then I’m proud to wear that label.’
Harlequin sighed, trying to wrap his head around the realization. Failing. All he could concentrate on was the rapid pulse of his heart, each beat alternating thoughts. Betrayed. Fool. Betrayed. Fool.
‘What would you prefer? That I’d turned myself in? That I’d given up all I’d built so your bosses could hand it over to Entertech? They are your prime magical contractor. Who do you think would develop the drug if not Channel?’
Harlequin shook his head. ‘And us, Grace? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?’
She knelt in front of him, lifting his chin with a finger. If there was a lie in her eyes, he couldn’t see it.
‘Never,’ she whispered. ‘We’re the same, Jan. Neither of us asked for this. Both of us made the tough choice, did what we had to do to keep going, to keep doing good.’
‘Bullshit,’ he said. ‘You could have self-reported. You could have joined up.’
‘Could I?’ She pointed at the towel rack beside the basin. He felt her current now, rising up out of nowhere, tight, disciplined, as controlled as any SOC operator.