Windslinger

by JM Guillen

  “They’re going to show the new Blake Runner later on.” Baxter raised his eyebrows comically, looking squarely at me.

  “Ugh.” I shook my head. “I can’t believe you watch that stuff.”

  “Just get back here, and we will decide what we’re going to do, Miss Lawson.” Rehl tipped an imaginary hat.

  “Sounds good to me.” I grabbed my bag. “I’ll take this upstairs, make my call, then find you guys.”

  “What, no dynamite?” Rehl sounded confused. “I thought all your plans involved dynamite.”

  “I’m not exactly the Masked Brava.” I stuck my tongue out at him as I walked away. “My plans never require explosions.”

  Yet as I walked away from my friends, none of whom had a single clue about my secretive lifestyle, I couldn’t help but smile.

  Maybe I had more in common with the Masked Brava than I cared to admit.

  Power Gamer

  No one picked up.

  “What the fuck, Dad?” I muttered as I punched the number to his apartment. I’d already tried the shop, but only gotten Knucklebones’ answering machine.

  I glanced at the clock in my room. Cheerily, it blazed 4:41 in red numerals.

  “He should totally be there,” I muttered.

  A shrill three-note tone blared through my phone, followed by a voice that told me my dad’s number was disconnected or no longer in service. If I thought I had reached the recording in error—

  “Fuck!” I punched the red button, disconnecting the call.

  My worry-hamster was going full tilt.

  “Elizabeth, I feel some discussion is in order,” an unknown baritone asserted from behind me. “I hope you agree.”

  “Um.” I froze in the middle of dialing my phone again.

  Slowly, I turned.

  A young man stood there, heroically handsome and outfitted in a black suit. He stood between me and the door and nodded once in greeting.

  I instantly recognized him from the sedan. Not him. It.

  It’s not a person. Oh God. I took a single step backward, my breath tight in my chest.

  Ten thousand awful stories spun through my mind as I realized what it must be.

  A Silent Gentleman.

  I’d locked that door! My heart thrummed in my chest as I tried to make sense of it all. The door remained shut behind it.

  “How—?” It doesn’t matter how it got in! I shook my head furiously and backed up another step, hoping to get my iron throwing knives within reach.

  Where were they?

  “Elizabeth, honey.” It held up its hands and flashed a disarmingly charming smile. It almost looked too human. “Relax. I just want to talk to you. There’s no need for any drama.”

  “Liz,” I spat, almost reflexively. “And appearing in a lady’s hotel room seems pretty dramatic to me.” One of them, he’s one of them…

  The odd buzzing sound I could not place grew louder for a moment. My vision blurred, as if electronic interference somehow shorted out my brain.

  “Because if I wanted to do you harm, we wouldn’t be talking, now would we?” That smile again.

  “I don’t think we have anything to discuss.” By reflex, I relaxed into my mind, where an eternity of wind sang. An untamed tempest lurked there, a maelstrom of furious wind. I sipped at an ocean through a straw. As I touched it with the edge of my mind, a gust from nowhere tickled through the creature’s hair, picking up strength.

  “You don’t?” It cleared its throat.

  “No.” I did my best to meet the creature’s gaze, but failed. Instead, I focused upon shaping the Wind. Without blinking, I called another of Simon’s Empyrean Seals to mind. This one was a little more violent than my wall of wind, but I felt that things might get dicey. I didn’t know if I’d get an opportunity, but…

  It might be the only weapon I had.

  The creature looked me in the eye, and gave the tiniest shake of its head. It slid one hand into a pocket. “I disagree.”

  It shifted something in that pocket.

  Around us, the world trembled, as if reality itself shook at the foundations. Thunder rumbled in the room, a soundless growl through existence itself.

  “What?” I looked around wildly. In my mind, the Wind instantly died. I felt something crack somewhere within my skull, and my will slipped like sand through my fingers.

  My eyes went wide. The hell…?

  Somehow, the not-so-silent-gentleman had Counterspelled me.

  “What was that noise?” My voice sounded impossibly soft, small. I cocked my head at the figure and clung desperately to my composure.

  Within myself, I could not find that echo of wind. Not a whisper.

  “Don’t waste your time,” it said, with an almost too-perfect smile. “I had an idea of what I was walking into here, Liz.”

  “What do you mean?” Frantically, I clawed in my mind, trying to find the place where the Wind sang within me. It slipped just from reach and…

  And I couldn’t grasp it. My heart pounded in my chest. For the first time in several years, I felt helpless. The buzz grew louder for a moment; the world flickered with electronic interference, and the air crackled with static.

  “I don’t understand.” I shook my head, as if I could clear out the electronic noise. I caught sight of the clock.

  It read 4:41.

  “That’s…” I glanced up at the figure, who regarded me silently. “That’s impossible.”

  The clock flickered to 4:42.

  “I had hoped we could have a pleasant discussion.” The creature’s eyes seemed to stare through me; flickery static burned at the edge of my mind.

  “The fuck you say!” Panicked, I moved backward and stumbled into the night table as another rush of static blurred through my mind. I leaned against the wall and glared at the uncanny thing that had appeared in my bedroom.

  Then, it moved.

  I don’t mean to imply that it took a step toward me or even that it blurred, inhumanly fast. No, it simply stood in front of me one second, and several steps away the next, wrapped in an aura of static-y flickers. I didn’t even have time to register what I saw before the sharp buzz washed over me again, and reality scintillated around me, like twenty year old film.

  “What do you want?” I inwardly cringed at how small my wail sounded, how weak I must seem.

  Liz stood up. Some part of my brain yammered in narration. She stood the fuck up and took care of her business.

  “I’ve told you what I want, Liz.” Its lips quirked up as it took a step toward me. “That being said, it’s important we come to an understanding.”

  “What understanding?” I spat, trying to remain fierce.

  “You must accept that I’m going to get what I want.”

  Blurred buzzes crackled in my mind, and my vision trembled. I gasped and slid down the wall.

  “That’s a fact, whether you like it or not.”

  Static burst in my mind, like a ball of burning electronic flares and I fell, the darkness of the world collapsed upon me.

  2

  August 22, 1991- Six Years Ago

  Syracuse, New York

  A lifetime ago, I learned everything I needed to know about the Silent Gentlemen. Simon had spent a good two weeks on the topic, before he truly delved into teaching me about my clever little knack.

  “They took twelve people, good people. Ones I knew personally.” Simon hobbled as we walked across the building’s roof, twilight settling in the sky. I’d never seen his now-familiar battered cowboy hat before. His greying hair hung from beneath it, making him look like a homeless rancher wandering the streets of Syracuse.

  “They?” We had been walking in silence for so long I didn’t remember who he meant.

  “Twelve clever people.” He raised an eyebrow, enunciating the word. ‘Clever’ was Simon’s personal euphemism for people who had special little knacks. People who—due to their uncanny capabilities—shaped reality in some small way.

  People like me.
>
  “The Silent Gentlemen took them all, and nary one of them a fool. These were people who knew to watch themselves.” He affixed me with an eye of sterling blue.

  “You keep saying ‘took.’” I scuffed my foot against the surface of the roof. “Don’t you mean ‘killed’?”

  “No.” He went on, without explaining. “Micah Blacke was a little older than you when I met him. Clever, much as you are; only his particular affinity lay with animals.”

  “He could… talk to them?” I couldn’t help a small smile. “Like have familiars?” That sounded fun.

  “I don’t know what that is,” Simon grumbled. “But yeah. He could make them do what he needed or call animals that were nearby. He had a true affection for the wilderness. Good guy. Good heart.”

  “But the Silent Gentlemen took him.”

  “We were in Wyoming, out near my old ranch.” Simon shook his head. “He thought he might look for a place out that way, thought with his… knack he might enjoy Yellowstone. It’s remote, wild. He thought nobody would bother him there.”

  “But that’s not how it went.”

  “We rambled in the park one day, back before I needed this.” He waved his cane. “We’d gone hiking; Micah saw a small herd of buffalo, walking toward the road where some folk had their cars. Without a second thought, he called the animals back.”

  “Sounds smart. Keep them and the people safe.”

  Simon nodded. “Thing is, we were in the middle of nowhere, right? I mean, there was a road, but Yellowstone is huge. It takes more than an hour’s drive just to really get into it.”

  “Okay.” I wasn’t certain why this mattered.

  “The black sedans showed up in less than two minutes. A van too.” Simon slouched, just a little. “The arrival time was inhuman, impossible.”

  “Like they were already there,” I mused.

  “Micah realized we needed to run before I did. He sent the herd of bison to get between us and the Gentleman, but after the first animal was killed by the creatures, he didn’t use his talent again; we just ran.”

  “Did they have one of their witches with them?” Simon had told me of these as well, eerily silent women who twitched and trembled without visible reason. It seemed like they could see things hidden from the rest of us.

  “No.” He stopped to consider. “Not as far as I saw anyway.”

  “So they chased you into the forest?”

  “No. We turned and ducked through a small bunch of Pinyon Pines and it seemed as if we truly might lose them. Micah really knew what he was doing in the woods.” He sighed. “The thing is, running didn’t matter. They were in front of us by the time we made it to the first clearing.”

  “So fast?” I shook my head. “But how?”

  He shrugged. “They weren’t there to talk, neither. The moment we arrived they had their weapons trained on Micah.”

  “How did you get away?” My eyes went wide.

  “He didn’t get away. Those things just looked at him.” He shook his head, “Unreal in how human they seemed.” He shrugged and blew out a big sigh. “Micah screamed, holding his head like it were gonna burst and folded in on himself.”

  “But they didn’t take you.”

  “Obviously.” He gave me a sideward glance. “They made his eyes bleed, ears too. He lay there screaming and jerking, like an animal.”

  “How did you—?”

  He raised a hand and cut me off.

  “‘Nother time, I hooked up with a group of friends, in the D.C. area. Only a few of them were actually ‘clever,’ but the rest were folks who knew a thing or two.”

  “Like you,” I said softly. Simon didn’t have a knack like I did. I’d seen him do some pretty amazing things, but he insisted that he had a much more common kind of cleverness.

  “Riiight.” He touched his nose. “They knew a little bit about a little bit. Collected trinkets and lore and old things that maybe shoulda been forgotten.”

  “Smack in the middle of Washington D.C.” I shook my head. “Sounds like a great setup to hypnotize some politicians.”

  “That’s not what these folks were about.” He shook a finger. “They collected old lore; they’re the ones who introduced me to angelic Names.”

  “Seriously.” I raised my eyebrows. “You learned the Empyrean tongue there.”

  “Not part of the story,” he growled. “The point is that I knew these folks. They was good people, probably doing more good in the world than the rest of D.C. combined.”

  “But the Silent Gentlemen found them.”

  “There was a raid that time. I couldn’t even tell you how many of them came into the broken-down house that we called the Lodge. I’d been having a normal evening, and was on my way to bed. Next moment, a half dozen of the creatures appeared inside the house. Some of them simply faded into existence, while others stepped out of a circle of crimson fire.”

  “And you didn’t see the fire there beforehand?”

  “It just appeared.” He stared at me, cobalt eyes serious. “Right in the kitchen.”

  “A fire appeared in the kitchen and the Silent Gentlemen stepped out of it?”

  “Uncanny fire. Burning on nothin’, hanging in the air. It kinda sang, all warbly-like.”

  “Okay.” I shook my head. Sometimes, Simon’s stories convinced me that perhaps I listened to a truly crazy person.

  “They brought a witch that time. Her eyes were black, no white at all, and her fingers twitched and writhed in the air.” He made a gesture, like a stage magician. “She knew right where people hid, could tell when someone clever was up to tricks. Just bein’ near her fills some folks’ heads with static.”

  “Did they give out the same treatment?” I folded my arms around myself and shuddered. “With the bleeding eyes and ears?”

  “I dunno.” He shrugged and seemed almost embarrassed. “Far as I know, I’m the only one that made it out.” He kicked his boot against the roof and sent bits of gravel sailing. “Grabbed some books an’ things and made away.”

  “But you can guess.” I spoke softly. “They were there to take your friends.”

  “Oh, they only took the clever folk.” He cleared his throat. “Killed the rest. Just left corpses on the floor. Dunno why, but I kinda assumed fer the crime of seeing them.”

  “Was—” I broke off, hoping I wasn’t touching a sore spot. “Was that where you met Rufus?” Simon maintained that his greatest magical teacher was a man named Rufus. I wasn’t buying it.

  “Indeed, Nancy Drew.” He chuckled. “Good work.”

  “But how did the Silent Gentlemen even find them?” We’d had this conversation on and off, and I never felt he answered me completely.

  “I’m going to show you something.” He held up one finger and grinned behind his mustache and beard. “Because you’re a stubborn little bird, and I know just telling you is never enough.”

  “I’m the stubborn one?” I shook my head.

  “I prefer to think of myself as patient.” He gestured at me with his knobby wooden cane to make a point. “I spent most of yesterday setting this up.”

  I followed him as he shuffled across the rooftop, only leaning on the cane now and again. I knew the cane was far more than a walking implement, in the same way the knick-knacks and gewgaws he had beneath his coat were far more than the various bits of detritus they seemed.

  “There.” Simon pointed down into the street. “See that?”

  We gazed down into a small parking lot, one bordered on three sides by office buildings. Apparently abandoned, the only way in was through the alleyway below us.

  “I do.” My brow furrowed as I peered down. “It’s quite the versatile solution for car storage.”

  “You don’t see anything.” He huffed. “But over there, by the dumpster, I have a little secret.”

  “Is it a hobo?” I peered down at the shadows behind the dumpster. “It’s a hobo, isn’t it?”

  “It is not a hobo.” He dug around the insi
de of his coat, and produced a battered baseball cap. Mostly dingy blue, the thing had to be older than me by several decades.

  He handed it to me. “You remember what that is?”

  “I do.” I gazed at the same cap he had showed me just before he officially started teaching me. Like so many of the seemingly innocuous things Simon carried, it was far more than it appeared.

  A flexible silver band, less than a quarter centimeter thick had been sewn and hidden within the cap. Simon had painstakingly inscribed thousands of tiny symbols in it, calls and beckonings in the Empyrean tongue.

  I had never seen a real magic item before this silly cap.

  “I want you to put it on.” He handed it to me. “If things go sideways on us, I’ll tell you to run.” His eyes darkened. “If that happens, I want you to use that little knack you’re so proud of, and run for your life.”

  “Okay.” Nervously, I set the cap on my head. The moment I did, I felt it touch the wind that sang in my heart, as if an odd countermelody. “But what are you worried about?”

  “Now look.” He quirked his head toward the dumpster. “Nothing odd, right?”

  “Not as far as I can see.”

  “It’s a boring corner in the city, and everything is peaceful.” He held up one finger. “Imagine for a moment that ‘boring’ is kind of a status quo; everything is normal and the world is just spinnin’ along.”

  “Okay.” I turned to him and tried to read the mischief in his eyes. “Not too difficult.”

  “But then, something happens. Something disturbs that peace.”

  “Like a car crash?”

  “No.” He shook his head, seeming weary. “Not just something exciting, something extraordinary. Something that disturbs the base nature of reality and physics as we know it. Look.” He pointed.

  Thunderous green fury erupted from behind the dumpster, flames that screamed, roared and leapt with a will all their own.

  “What’s—” I turned to stare at him, shocked. “Did you just bomb a dumpster?”

  “Yes. I bombed a dumpster.” He rolled his eyes. “No, idiot. Look closer.”

  “Oh.” I peered closer and tried to categorize what I saw. Just as he had taught, I relaxed my mind into the tempest within my heart. The moment I did, I saw the viridian flame snap into focus. “What is that?”