Spellhacker

by M. K. England

  “How bad is it?” I try to hold out my arms for inspection. Only the one arm moves correctly, though. The other gives a pathetic half shrug before flopping back on the bed, a hiss of pain between my teeth.

  “Stop that!” Remi says. “You just can’t sit still, can you?”

  “Do you even know me?” I retort.

  Their expression softens. “Yeah. I think I do.”

  I bite my lip and look away, flushing. I know the conversation is coming, but I’m not ready yet. I’ve only just woken up, haven’t gotten my bearings, don’t even know where we are. I use my one good arm to push myself up to seated, staring out the window at the horizon where blue meets blue.

  “Are we on a boat or something?” I ask, steering us onto steady ground. “How did we get here?”

  Remi laughs and gets to their feet, coming to stand next to my good arm. “We are indeed on a boat, unfortunately for Jaesin. It’s quite a good story. Too bad you were bleeding everywhere and didn’t get to see it.”

  A shadow passes over their face, and they take a steadying breath before moving on. “I pulled a bunch of vitaz from the cavern before the drill carried us out of there, and we got you stable. Once we made it onto the boat, we were able to stop somewhere Ania could pay a lot of money for you to get treated.”

  I summon a weak smile. For once, zero bitterness about Ania and her money. “How did Kyrkarta react to the drill?”

  Remi snorts a laugh. “You so missed out. The footage was playing on the news feeds until MMC got it taken down. It’s like something out of a movie, that drill climbing out of a crack in the Bridges District like a giant bug. Since you weren’t conscious, Jaesin filled in for you and got some epic music queued up for our dramatic exit.”

  My lips curl into a smile as I picture it. “And what, then Jaesin just drove us out to the ocean? Where is the drill now?”

  “I mean, driving is a bit generous,” Remi says with a snicker. “He pointed the drill in a direction and hit go, then kept us from running into anything too awful. Once we got to the water, we figured out how to tell the drill to keep walking straight forever. It walked around for a while on the bottom of the ocean, but eventually the salt water got to it. It fell into a trench and died. RIP, death machine.”

  “RIP,” I echo with a little salute. “But that still doesn’t explain where we are.”

  The door to my little room swings open, and a kindly face appears around the corner. Professor Silva’s husband, John.

  “Ah, you’re awake, good.” He leans back out into the hallway. “ARIC, SHE’S AWAKE!”

  “DON’T SHOUT IN THE PATIENT’S ROOM!” a voice echoes back, and a moment later Professor Silva shuffles into the room, followed by Jaesin and Ania. “Never trust a mathematician to have a good bedside manner, I suppose. How are you feeling, dear?”

  I blink at all the faces crowded around my bed, sudden claustrophobia clawing at the inside of my chest.

  “Fine,” I say, too sharp, then take a breath and force myself to relax. “Fine. But can I get out of this room? It’s feeling a little . . . small.”

  Professor Silva looks around, then says, “Oh!” as if just noticing the crowd. “Everyone out! Let’s set up on the deck.”

  Jaesin comes around to my bad side and gently scoops an arm under me, while Remi takes my good side and curls their arm around my waist. It takes a minute to get used to having my legs under me again, but I’m in surprisingly little pain, all things considered. More difficult is finding my sea legs, because we are, in fact, on a boat.

  I relax. There’s no way MMC can get at us out here.

  I’ve never been to the ocean before. Even during our brief time in Jattapore, we didn’t really have time to go down and explore. Now it’s all I can see, stretching out in every direction to the horizon line, and shining like firaz in the setting sun’s light. The boat rocks beneath me, gentle and soothing.

  Well, soothing to me. According to Remi, Jaesin spent our first three hours at sea with his head overboard. His olive skin is still washed gray with sickness, and he chugs water to soothe the resulting dehydration, Ania rubbing a gentle hand over his back. Poor guy.

  The source of the boat? Turns out this is the backup retirement plan the professor had in mind when he literally burned down his own house. That plan essentially amounts to “sail around the world on a giant boat,” and they were kind enough to let us hitch a ride for a while. Remi contacted Professor Silva using the information he left with them, they set up a rendezvous, and we apparently transferred to the boat before sending the drill on to its final watery resting place.

  Weird. A lot to miss. I was half dead at the time, though, so I think I can be excused.

  I drop to the ground at the edge of the deck, threading my legs under the railing and propping my good arm and chin on top of it. I’m already winded from the short journey from the cabin. Not great. Remi sits down beside me on my good side, close but not touching, while Jaesin and Ania share a deck chair facing away from the water, and the professor and John hold hands over a metal picnic table welded to the deck. It’s like a group sigh of relief, everyone resting against one another, hands seeking reassurance where words aren’t enough.

  I take a deep breath of bracing salty air and let my mind go blank for a moment, willing my brain to catch back up with the present. Part of me is still back at station twenty-nine, baking in my own fear sweat, watching Remi dive into the Maz Sea, and seeing Davon lying on the ground, surrounded by bleeding and dying security guards, pale, sickly . . . ill?

  My heart gives a painful clench.

  Davon. My family. My cousin, brother, whatever, my closest anything. The betrayal aches just as badly now as it did in the moment, driving all that fresh sea air from my lungs and hollowing me out.

  I pull up my notifications in my lenses and find two days of ignored messages waiting for me, including several from Davon. That eases my mind ever so slightly; he can’t have messaged me if he’s dead. His words superimpose themselves over the rolling ocean waters before me.

  (private) Davon: Hey

  I know you don’t want to talk to me

  I just need to know if you’re okay, though

  Please

  I hate so much the way my heart reacts to that, the way I crave his attention, the way I need him to be here to hug me and make everything okay. I hate the relief that eases the iron bands around my heart. He’s alive, and he still cares about me. That’s something. Even with everything that went down, I can’t completely hate him. He’s my cousin-brother-thing. Always will be. But I’ll never trust him again.

  In fact, I’m not even sure I ever want to see his face again.

  I debate for a long moment about simply deleting the messages. Even confirming that we’re alive could be dangerous, if he’s still relaying information to MMC. Somehow I don’t believe it, though. He may have been an asshole in the end, but Davon always knows when he’s beaten. And ultimately, everything he ever did was to protect me. I don’t think that’s changed. I shoot a quick glance over at Remi’s profile, then subvocalize a short message back.

  You: I’m alive.

  And you?

  Several minutes pass as Davon starts and stops his reply, the ellipsis appearing and disappearing repeatedly. Finally, he responds.

  (private) Davon: I’m alive for now.

  For now. My stomach lurches. I wish so much that those words didn’t hurt like they did.

  You: I’m sorry.

  It’s true. Complicated, but true.

  (private) Davon: Me too.

  I have no right to ask but

  Will I ever see you again?

  I bite my lip and look over to where Jaesin and Ania are laughing and telling Aric some kind of story with lots of big gestures and interruptions. Ania is practically in Jaesin’s lap, an arm curled around his neck. They look happy, happier than I’ve seen either of them in a long time. Mom and Dad, finally back together again. Warms my tiny heart.

 
We definitely won’t be back in Kyrkarta anytime soon. I need to recover. So does Remi. We need to give MMC’s executive board time to sort out their reaction to what happened, see if they’ll retract the warrants for our arrest. The professor’s sciencey friends say it’s far too early to tell anything about the state of the planet, but that there have been no new disasters in the past two days. I’ll take it. Apparently the conspiracy theorists on the net picked up on the news story about the drill before it got wiped from the feeds, and John has been systematically flooding every forum and news outlet with ten years of evidence. It’s all been taken down within seconds, like an automatic bot is crawling the net specifically to search and destroy any scrap of the truth. Something will make it through eventually, though.

  Something always breaks through.

  We’ve got more to do together, this weird little family of ours. Maz research with the professor, maybe even cure research if Remi feels up to it. Investigation into other MMC facilities around the world. Travel to every plague-affected city to see what’s been done to them, and how we can help.

  I’ll miss Kyrkarta, no doubt. But I finally feel like I have a purpose, and I didn’t even need Davon to score a job interview for me to get it. Maybe we’ll be able to go home eventually. Maybe I’ll even see Davon there.

  Do I even want to see Davon again?

  You: honestly I don’t know.

  And I can’t think of anything more to say than that.

  (private) Davon: Okay

  Well

  Take care of yourself, Diz.

  I smile the saddest smile of my life at that. His number one priority at all times. Take care of yourself. That’s always been the problem for both of us. Too busy protecting ourselves instead of living.

  You: You too.

  Because I know he doesn’t have anyone else to look out for him.

  I blink the chat away, but don’t delete it. I have a feeling I’ll regret it later if I do. Instead, I scoot closer to Remi and, with trembling fingers, reach out to lay a hand on their knee. A second passes, two, ten . . . then Remi’s hand joins mine, twining our fingers together. When they look up a moment later, I force myself to meet their gaze.

  “You okay?” I mouth, mustering up a smile.

  They smile back faintly and nod, squeezing my hand gently. I squeeze back, still fighting that awful creeping dread inside me, that bite of the past that works to hold me down. It’s easier now, though. It’ll be even easier in the future. Every day, I’ll work at it. Remi deserves it.

  I deserve it.

  We sit together for a while, until the sun is nearly down and the others have gone inside to make dinner. We stay until the stars come out and we can look up and spot our favorites, tracing constellations on each other’s legs. Eventually, I lift my hand to Remi’s face, drawing a star high on one cheekbone. Another, on the tip of their nose. The corner of their mouth. On their full bottom lip.

  When I seal each one into their skin with a kiss, Remi shines brighter than all the stars in the sky combined.

  “It’s not going to be perfect,” I murmur between kisses, hating to say it but needing to all the same, even as our mouths slot together again and again. “I’m still going to mess up all the time.”

  Remi nudges my nose with theirs, a silent request I’m only too happy to fulfill. I lean in to brush our lips together, featherlight, barely there, that faint touch full of electric promise.

  “I’m going to try, though,” I whisper.

  Their lips pull into a smile under mine, then they sit back to meet my eyes.

  “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  The telltale click of Ania’s bootheels on the metal deck draws my eyes away from Remi’s face for the first time in what feels like hours. Ania stands at the corner of the ship cabin, one hand on her hip, grinning like a fiend.

  “Come inside,” Ania says, her eyes shining. “I know what you were up to!” practically radiates from her every smug pore. Out loud, though, all she says is, “It’s dinnertime.”

  “We’ll be right there,” Remi says, scooting back from the edge and turning to help me up. We take it slow, balancing carefully so as not to put any weight on my half-dead arm. Golden light and deep laughter spill from the open cabin door onto the hard steel deck, drowning out the darkness and crash of the waves.

  Yes, I’ll miss Kyrkarta. I’ll even miss Davon. But my true family is out here. Wherever they go, I go.

  Remi’s hand slips into mine and squeezes.

  “Ready?” they ask.

  I squeeze back and take one long, deep breath.

  “Yeah,” I say. “I’m ready.”

  Acknowledgments

  Second books are rough, as every author will tell you, but I’ve had the most fabulous people on my side.

  Anyone would be lucky to have Barbara Poelle, Warrior Agent, in their corner. Thanks for being my fierce defender, keeping me sane(ish), and sharing your wisdom when I’m adrift. You do more than I’ll ever know, and I appreciate it so much!

  To Stephanie Stein, who gets my nerd references and is so, so smart with her editorial direction: endless thanks for guiding me through the challenge that was this book. I’m grateful for both your enthusiasm and your chill. And to Louisa Currigan, editorial assistant extraordinaire, who keeps the wheels turning like a freakin’ wizard behind the scenes. Much appreciated!

  And of course, huge thanks due to the entire rest of the Harper team. To the oh-so-talented design team of Alice Wang and Jenna Stempel-Lobell—I know getting to this final cover was a Journey, but I adore it and you both, and I deeply appreciate your talent and time! To copy editors Shona McCarthy and Laaren Brown . . . sorry about the hyphens, y’all, and thanks. To the production team of Kimberly Stella and Vanessa Nuttry, Shannon Cox in marketing, and everyone else at HarperTeen whose names and hard work I never hear about: I appreciate you. Thanks for helping Spellhacker stand out.

  I often get asked about advice for writers who are just starting out, and I gotta repeat the same thing a lot of folx say: Find your people. I would not be where I am without the support, love, and shouting gentle encouragement of many lovely writer friends and groups. The Pitch Wars 2015 Mentee and Mentor Alumni groups and the Electric 18s debut group are so full of wise and lovely people I’m grateful to know. Some specific love:

  Leigh: You were there when this book was born! We brainstormed the hell outta this thing at a retreat in 2017, and then you sat across from me at the coffee shop every week as I swore, cried, and mashed my face against the keyboard over the next year. It literally wouldn’t exist without you. Thanks for the good times, the overcaffeinated times, the sugar-crashed times, and everything in between.

  Jamie: My constant friend, always 100 percent real and on my side no matter what. No amount of feminist f-word-filled socks could express my gratitude. I’m so thrilled to hold your first book in my hands in just a few short months. You and your words are a gift to the world!

  Kat and Steph: Retreat friends, accountability buddies, constant sources of encouragement. You are so talented and you deserve everything.

  Kerri: My humble gratitude for your insight. Both my books are better for having had your eyeballs on them!

  Mike and Ruby: You’re the best cheerleaders and I so appreciate your support. Mike, you are my IV drip line of encouragement and positivity. You deserve your dreams. I’m here for you.

  To the Gamefest crew and my local gamer friends: You’d be shocked at just how much creative fuel I get from our table time together, brief and far between though it may be. I appreciate you. Thanks for the support.

  And a huge extra shout-out to the Disasters launch crew, especially Mike and Vicky. Wouldn’t be here without you. I’m eternally grateful.

  In Libraryland: I have the best coworkers. Special shout-out to Amy and Hayley for the patience, friendship, and after-work drinks. Always, always, always for my teens: Thanks for the support and constant inspiration. Someday you’re gonna blow us all a
way. I adore you, my ducks.

  To my parents, who gave me books, room for my imagination, and a love of sci-fi and fantasy. You showed me what it looks like to bust your ass for the things you want. Glad you’re nearby now. Love you both. Take it easy.

  And finally, as always, to my partner, Nathan, who fills my every day with the practical and the whimsical, keeping me grounded and silly. Couldn’t do this without you. All my love forever and ever until the inevitable heat death of the universe.

  Still here? Thanks to YOU, too. Go be kind to someone, and to yourself.

  About the Author

  Courtesy M. K. England

  M. K. ENGLAND is an author and librarian who grew up on the Space Coast of Florida and now calls small-town rural Virginia home. When she’s not writing or librarianing, M. K. can be found drowning in fandom, rolling dice at the Dungeons & Dragons table, digging in the garden, or feeding her video game addiction. She loves Star Wars with a desperate, heedless passion. It’s best if you never speak of Sherlock Holmes in her presence. You’ll regret it. She is also the author of The Disasters.

  Visit her at www.mkengland.com.

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  Copyright

  SPELLHACKER. Copyright © 2020 by Megan England. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.