I asked the obvious question. “But why?”
“I don't know,” Misaki admitted, her tail uncurling and drooping down to lay atop the mattress. “What did the shadow-cloaked figure say to you about Lord Isao?”
“Like I said, a lot of cryptic nonsense, but there was something in there that I didn't already know—that I don't think AEGIS knows, either.” My expression became pensive as I regarded my wife-to-be, her tail curling and swishing slowly across the mattress in her worry. “I think I'm relating this properly, but the weird person in the dream claimed Isao Tsukimura used a permanent spell to punch a hole through the boundary between this world and the astral, using it as a conduit to pull more power through.”
“That explains much,” Misaki murmured, a troubled look on her face. “The fusing of his soul to spectral essence would explain how he was able to channel so much power and make use of miasma safely, but it would not be the source of that power.”
My eyes narrowed sharply. “You knew this might have been possible and didn't think to mention it sooner?”
Misaki blushed. “I-I'm sorry. I didn't think it was relevant at the time.”
"Don't start that again," I admonished her. Misaki hadn't entirely broken the habit of apologizing extensively any time she made anything resembling a mistake. “You've been doing so well, too.”
“A-anyway,” Misaki continued, her cheeks flushing slightly at the praise, “what you're saying makes sense. If Lord Isao used magic to tunnel through the boundary, keeping the link open would take considerable effort. His continuous invocation would have started to fail the moment you destroyed his miasmic core with the Relic.”
“The weird person said that, though in a more confusing way.” I stood up and stretched my arms over my head. “They claimed that the boundary between the astral and this world has been weakened because I killed Isao.”
Misaki's lack of objection was a disturbing confirmation.
“What does that even mean?”
“I don't know,” she admitted. “The boundary separates this world from the world of spirits and magic. It's never been completely impermeable, but the strength of the boundary has fluctuated over the centuries.”
“Speculation is probably a waste of time at this point.” I shrugged and took a long swallow from a glass of water I kept on the nightstand. “Get those dark thoughts out of your head for now. I'll make us some breakfast.
“You never eat breakfast,” Misaki pointed out.
“I have a feeling that it'll be a good idea today.” I threw on something quickly, not really caring much what it was—in this case it happened to be the stuff I usually wore to the gym, a loose t-shirt and a pair of thin shorts. I walked out of the bedroom and into the living room of the apartment. It still felt a little strange not to be sleeping in the same room I spent most of my time in at home, but I was sure I'd get used to it eventually.
Misaki followed and sat down at the small kitchen table, a heavy and old antique that Mama insisted I take when we moved. Most of the contents of the Takeda family home were still there in Osaka, but she already had a goodly amount of furniture shipped to my sister's home in Portland.
I opened the fridge and started rooting around, pulling out the things I'd need to cook something. The strange feeling I had before led me to pick something high in all sorts of energy: I pulled out a package of breakfast sausage and a roll of lazy-bake biscuits. There was a little bacon left over, too, and a half a bunch of scallions. Perfect.
“I'm making biscuits and sawmill gravy,” I announced. “That sound good?”
Misaki's ears perked up. “Sausage and bacon in the gravy?”
“Of course.” I busied myself prepping the ingredients necessary while I watched my fiancee out of the corner of my eye. She was uncharacteristically quiet; usually when either of us cooked, Misaki was a chatterbox full of things to say.
Instead, she stared out the window pensively. I turned back to my work, frying off the sausage, bacon and a minced shallot in the pan with some crushed garlic. The fat rendered out of the meat and soon I had all I needed to make the roux. As I threw a little flour into the pan and started to brown it up, I could feel a telltale odd pressure in the air that always accompanied the use of magic.
Misaki was tracing a series of runic symbols in the air. Her eyes were strangely unfocused and I knew just by looking that she was performing some type of searching or scrying magic. It certainly looked out of place in this otherwise utterly normal scene of domestic bliss, that's for damn sure.
“I'm searching for the source of the sending,” she explained.
I shrugged and went back to my cooking, pouring cold milk into the skillet and whisking the roux-meat-onion mixture vigorously. “I doubt you'll find anything.”
“The mage covered their tracks well,” Misaki agreed. “What do you think we should do about this, Karin?”
I slowed my whisking as the gravy thickened up, turning smooth and creamy without any trace of lumps. I threw a few pinches of kosher salt and many more than a few of coarse ground black pepper—it's sawmill gravy, for fuck's sake, pepper is required—and turned to my fiancee with a troubled expression on my face.
“Talk to Star about it, of course.”
Misaki nodded grimly. “I was thinking the same thing. Our affiliation with AEGIS is not a very well-kept secret among those involved in the arcane underworld. It may be someone targeting AEGIS as a whole and not you specifically.”
“Yeah, could be. We don't have just ourselves to worry about. Contact Star through the secure comm and arrange a face-to-face meeting.”
Misaki pulled out her phone and tapped at the screen for a few moments. I opened the oven up and was greeted with the sight of six very fluffy and golden-brown biscuits. Working quickly so they wouldn't burn my fingers, I split four of the biscuits and arranged two each on plates, then spooned the hot gravy over the top. Thinly sliced scallions and red chilies went over the top of each, being especially generous on my plate.
“Breakfast is served,” I announced, setting the plates down. Misaki's thoughtful expression disappeared at the sight and smell of the food. The sawmill gravy was good and creamy, with big chunks of well-browned sausage and bacon showing through. I retreated to the kitchen and grabbed two glasses and the carton of orange juice from the fridge before returning to the table.
“Star has arranged to meet us at the secure office in two hours,” Misaki informed me. I nodded, expecting this, and sat down, pouring the both of us a glass of juice. Picking up my fork, I got right to it, cutting off a hunk of gravy-drenched biscuit and popping it into my mouth.
“This turned out good.”
Misaki seemed to agree; I raised an eyebrow upon noticing there were only three halves left on her plate, mere moments after taking my seat. The two of us finished our breakfast in companionable silence, considering the time limit we had if Star wanted to meet so soon. Our boss's quick response time likely meant she already had something she wanted to discuss.
Even so, Misaki still finished first and pushed away from the table. “Thank you for the meal. I'm going to get in the shower.”
“I'll set something out for you to wear,” I offered. Misaki smiled at me and turned to walk toward the hallway, her tail swishing as she walked. I would ordinarily have taken that as an opportunity to engage in mischievous acts of physical affection, but my mind was too busy contemplating the dream.
She left the door to the bathroom open and I heard the shower cut on. I knew she wouldn't take too long, especially not with the meeting coming up, so I quickly gathered up the plates and silverware, depositing them into the sink and rinsing the residual gravy and biscuit crumbs away.
Back in the bedroom that Misaki and I shared, I opened her side of the closet and started pulling out articles of clothing. Call it intuition, call it a hunch or a gut feeling, but it seemed like a very good idea for the both of us to wear something comfortable. After a few moments of consideration, I decid
ed on setting out a pair of thick leggings—it was already starting to get cold—and a ruffle-trimmed pink tunic.
The white noise of the shower cut off abruptly and a few minutes later Misaki came padding back into the bedroom, her hair still damp. She plopped down on the edge of the bed and I couldn't help but laugh as her right hand was suddenly enveloped in a sheet of dancing reddish-orange flame.
“It works better than the hairdryer,” Misaki insisted. I wasn't about to argue with that; she was one hundred percent correct. The spell-flame sheathing her hand would only burn what she wished it to, would only emit as much heat as she desired. My cheap drugstore hairdryer would do considerably more damage to her hair.
Still, it was a strange sight to watch my fiancee sit on the edge of our bed while a ribbon of animate flame orbited around her head, gently drying the moisture from her abundant reddish-gold hair. In most stories about people gifted with supernatural powers, the heroine was often admonished for using her powers for mundane conveniences.
“I bet you could cook the most perfect steak with that,” I remarked as I stripped for the shower.
“We should try that next time.” Misaki giggled. Of course she wasn't even remotely opposed to such an idea, especially since it involved the possibility of eating meat cooked over an open flame.
I turned and walked toward the bathroom while Misaki dressed. She'd left the place cleaner than it was before she used it, as usual. After almost a year together, I no longer felt guilty about it. It would take a lot longer to reverse the personal quirks and habits picked up over the course of six centuries.
More importantly, it was different now. Misaki didn't act as she did out of fear or out of some ritualized behavior imposed upon her. No, we both bent over backwards for each other because we loved each other. That's really all there was to it.
I turned the shower on and stepped underneath the flow. Unfortunately I didn't have much time to enjoy the feeling of hot water cascading down my back. I could still feel sharp spikes of weakness and pain in my left leg and the muscles that ran from my thigh to the small of my back.
The injuries I sustained in our last desperate battle against the patriarch of House Tsukimura might never completely heal, even with the benefit of Misaki's healing magic. I was getting better but I still tired a lot more quickly than I used to. After I'd healed enough to endure it, I spent three long, grueling months in physical therapy. Less than a week after I stopped needing the cane every time I walked, Mama insisted I get a gym membership and make use of it.
Well, I did the first part, but the other half not so much. At least, not as much as my mother would prefer. Since she paid for it, she was able to track how often I actually went. I made a point to try and remember to go at least three times a week, which generally stopped her from making harassment calls.
I turned off the shower and stepped out to towel off quickly. In truth, I didn't like going to the gym, and not because it made me feel inadequate or anything like that. I had no great emotional struggles with my loss of physical capability; shit just happened, and the shit that had happened wasn't much of a loss compared to what I'd gained. My reluctance was as simple as the reluctance people have to touching a hot pan.
It just hurt a lot.
Misaki was already dressed when I came back into the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed fiddling with her phone. I opened my own side of the closet and grabbed the first pair of jeans I could get my hands on, one of the several pairs my sister bought me as a birthday gift.
Oh yes, I was officially thirty now. The big three-oh. I didn't actually feel any different than I did when I was twenty-nine, so I don't really understand what the big deal was. Thirty was still a kid these days with life expectancies rising as medical tech only got better and better. Not that I needed a reminder, considering how I was engaged to someone more than twenty times my age. That always sounded a little wild when I thought about it.
The jeans went on my body, along with a plain heather gray scoop-neck top. I wouldn't be winning any awards for style, sure, but it was comfortable, and there was that nagging feeling in the back of my mind…
“How does your leg feel?” Misaki asked.
“It hurts.”
I sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled on a pair of socks and my favorite lace-up boots, a battered black leather pair that were so well broken-in that they were practically molded to my feet. The leather was scuffed and marred and softer than butter.
“Karin, you should take some—”
“I'll bring them with me,” I cut her off. She was referring to the painkillers that sat on the nightstand next to my side of the bed. I wasn't the stubborn type who refused to take medication when necessary, but I wasn't exactly thrilled about the idea of taking even moderately strong painkillers and then trying to drive during lunch-hour traffic.
Misaki gave me a dubious look. “I can drive, you know.”
“Not legally, you can't.”
“Oh, come on, we're not going to get stopped by the police,” Misaki complained. “Don't be the stubborn type who refuses to take medication when necessary, love. If you're in pain, take one.”
I rolled my eyes theatrically and sighed. “Fine, fine.” I picked up the pill bottle and opened it, dropping one into my hands. The little white oval was remarkable in its ability to both soothe the pain and make me feel like my head was stuck in a giant fucking wad of cotton.
I downed the pill with a sip from the half-full glass of water on the nightstand. It'd take a few minutes before the effects would kick in. I slipped on my jacket, grabbed my phone, pass and purse before turning back to Misaki.
“We ready to go?”
“Yes. We should get moving.” She stood up and pulled her own jacket on, shoving her phone into the pocket. “It'll take more than an hour just to get there with the sort of traffic we can expect.”
stillness
Misaki was right, of course. The drive to the secure office was uneventful, if long, much of the time spent waiting for traffic to move or being stuck behind red lights. Wisely, she chose to avoid the freeway and took to the surface streets. We could both see how badly jammed up things were on the aerial structures high above.
The painkillers were really starting to work now. The dull, throbbing ache had receded and was replaced by a numbness that I wasn't a fan of, but at least my head felt clear enough that my thinking wasn't appreciably slowed down.
I sipped at a milk coffee and flicked ashes out the window of my new car. I finally managed to get rid of that old ethanol-burner, unfortunately only for the worst possible trade-in value, but my soaring bank account balance made it easy enough to buy a brand-new fuel cell car outright.
Misaki turned down a narrow side street that would take us to the secure office. Star rarely had us meet at an AEGIS outpost like this one. It spoke ominously about what she might have to tell us. Usually if we had to meet face-to-face we'd do it in a public place, generally chosen at random. That she wanted us to meet her here…
“I suspect we're about to get real busy,” I muttered.
The car stopped and Misaki engaged the parking brake. I opened the passenger side door and stepped out, a faint smile curving my lips as Misaki stepped out of the car as well, her ears and tail clearly visible. It hadn't escaped my notice that she'd been hiding them more and more infrequently as time went on, only opting to cloak them with her magic when we were in highly public places.
The two of us walked to the door leading to the lobby of the AEGIS outpost. This was one of many secure outposts the organization maintained in the area. They never stayed in the same location for very long; this one had only been here for a few months and would be moved again soon. Unlike the branch office where we had our first meeting with Star, this place was much smaller and meant only for secure meetings between operatives.
I tapped my passkey against the auto-lock and heard a triple beep as the security system disengaged. I was never told, of course, but I su
spected that there was a lot more to the verification than the simple tap of my ID.
The door opened and we walked inside. The outpost wasn't much to look at. Inside was a small lobby with a reception desk and four heavy opaque glass doors. Instead of an actual receptionist/guard, a touchscreen kiosk was perched on the desk. From the display I could see that there were only four conference rooms in this outpost and only one of them was in use, tagged with Star's op ID number.
I tapped on the icon and waited while the corresponding door opened. Misaki and I walked inside and the door shut automatically behind us. Our boss sat at the end of the conference table. She was dressed in her usual dark blue skirt suit and heels, her hair done up in a stylishly messy bun pinned with purple lacquered needles. As usual, Star was the perfect picture of understated elegance.
“Karin, Misaki, it's good to see you two again.”
I forced a smile. “Hello, Star. Looking very snazzy, as usual.”
“I'm sorry for calling you in on such short notice. The timing of Misaki's message only made this meeting all the more urgent. Please, sit down, the both of you, and we'll get started.”
Misaki and I both sat down, glancing at each other expectantly. We hadn't seen Star look this harried since the final stages of the Tsukimura operation. Something big was definitely going down.
“Take a look at this.” Star tapped a few commands into a hidden keypad on the conference table and a section of the wall behind her became a high-definition display. Images flashed on the screen and my eyes widened in shock. There were a dozen digital images of three different corpses, all of which appeared to have been killed in the messiest possible way.
“These were taken last night by one of our observers,” Star explained. “Three of our operatives killed in the space of two hours. The local police are operating on the assumption that there's a brutal killer roaming the streets, but we've been trying to keep the media quiet about this, at least for now.”
Dimension Fracture Page 3