Just like then, I had the sensation of some invisible hand gently fusing an ice cube into the back of my neck. I shivered.
Dan led us up the stairs on the near side of the loading dock. Aluminum garage-style doors faced the building for blocks into the distance. He walked past four of them, then faced the brick wall between the fourth and fifth. Through my glasses, I could see something very much like a wooden door superimposed on the brick.
“Hidden door?” I said.
“Hidden door,” said Dan. “Secret club.”
“You been there before?”
Dan nodded his head. He placed his hand on the wall/door and closed his eyes.
“You a member?”
He shook his head slightly, then held up his hand to silence me.
After a moment, he turned to me with a hiss.
“Oh yeah,” he said. “He’s in there.”
He took a step back.
“But the jacket isn’t.”
“Okay then,” I said, “let’s pack it in.”
He kicked the wall. I heard wood splinter and a noise from inside.
“Dude!” I said.
He kicked it again, and the brick illusion shattered. The magic must have been bound to the physical integrity of the door itself. The frame cracked badly, and the door strained open about an inch. That ice cube on the back of my neck melted into me, and I felt adrenaline turn my veins to electricity. I was glad I’d only eaten the crackers.
There were loud voices inside now. More than one person.
“Better get that bad boy out,” said Dan over his shoulder as he kicked one more time. The door flew open and he jumped through.
“Hey buddy!” he shouted.
Fantastic.
Chapter 2
The room was long, narrow and too bright. A handful of people scrambled inside, and it was crowded and bright enough in the small space that I couldn’t really tell what was going on.
“Vasily!” Dan shouted.
Through my glasses, I could see magic starting to warp the air around hands. A woman in the back said harsh words, and for an instant a scent of metal and ozone hit my nose. Sparks crackled in the upheld palms of her hands, then went out. She swore. She’d tried to use too much power, probably reflexively, and the surrounding iron ate her spell like a circling shark.
“Idiot,” said Dan. He laughed and plunged into their midst.
The magic he was using was so low powered and subtle that I couldn’t even see it happening. He touched a huge red-haired man right on the face. The man collapsed to the floor and started to vomit rather violently. Apparently Dan had some up-close stuff ready to go.
People grabbed at Dan, but he was all elbows and knees. My eyes had taken a moment to adjust to the brightness, but I could now see that there were five people inside, not counting Dan. One of them, a short ugly man in a clean white Oxford, pretty much had to be Stoneface.
A slender gentlemen managed to get hold of Dan’s arm and twisted it behind his back, shoving him further into the room. An instant later, Dan reached his free hand over his head and grabbed the gentlemen by the ear. The man let out the beginning of a terrified shriek that ceased abruptly, his face a mask of horror. He staggered back against a wall, eyes wide, trying to scream, and just stood there and shook.
Four people were left standing, but they were now giving Dan as much space as they could in the narrow room. Big Red was still on the floor, a giant mess, gagging and dry heaving.
“Lincoln,” said Dan, “you can, you know, give me a hand whenever you feel like it.”
Calculus time. I’d done tactical weekend warrior-type training years and years ago, but that’s all it was. I’d come along tonight… why exactly? Was I actually going to shoot people? I mean, it wouldn’t be with bullets, but what was I thinking? If I turned and ran right now, what would happen? Would it be worse?
As I thought about it, time seemed to slow for me. The faces of the people inside were crystallized, throwing off prismatic auras. I could see every detail with astounding clarity. The lights spun halos that made me stare for… ten minutes? Twenty? The sounds around me seemed muted, like they were covered with white noise.
Red, on the ground, was wearing a nice navy sweater, jeans, Converse. Big, big guy. His eyes were bulged, frozen in time. The dirt on the laces of his shoes looked reddish too, like his beard.
The silent screamer looked like someone straight out of a PBS pledge drive, and in the timeless space I was in, I slowly started to count the hairs on his too-thin eyebrows. Even from across the room, I was able to resolve the details of his face to that level.
Four hundred fifty-three between the two of them. Interesting.
The woman in the back was built like a board. She had a hard mouth and wore lots of makeup. Little globules of mascara plumped the ends of her eyelashes. She had a small cut on the side of her neck. Flamingo earrings. Huh. The things you notice.
I wondered vaguely how I had time to be taking all of this in.
Stoneface had blunt fingers, only nine of them. “Ugly” didn’t quite cover him. Just a little hair left on his dull head, short, bristly and gray. Nice dresser, though.
The man behind him… older than me, but a baby face. Long neck. His finger was pointed at me. A thin thread of glowing magic began at his index finger and wiggled through space like iridescent silly string. It must have ended somewhere behind me, because it seemed to pass right…
Through
Me?
My forehead?
There was a sound.
Someone shouting.
Conling?
Why was someone shouting “conling” over and over again? And how could I hear them with everything frozen into this gossamer tableau?
A couple more times.
Con. Ling. Con. Ling.
Oh.
“Lincoln!”
Someone huge hit me over the head with what seemed like an invisible axe handle. Everything in my field of vision skipped, and my head exploded with pain. I fell to my knees.
“Lincoln!” Dan screamed. “Would you shoot someone please!”
I forced my eyes open. Too much. They slammed shut. My head hurt so badly that it made everything else hurt.
“Wake up! We! Are going! To die!”
I managed a squint. Flamingo Earrings and Baby Face held Dan at the shoulders. Stoneface had the palm of his hand pressed against Dan’s forehead, a look of fury and determination on his face. Dan gave a growl.
Things seemed to be slowing down again, and I pushed the feeling away. Baby Face had hit me with some kind of spell, and it was still hanging around, digging into my brain. I tried to reach for Fox, but something inside me wasn’t working right. I’m not even sure I was breathing. But I could think, sort of.
Okay.
Reaching for something requires extrapolation, and that was clearly too much for my nervous system to handle. Too complicated.
More mechanical, then. Maybe just rotate my shoulder.
I can do that.
Slide my hand up my thigh... across my stomach... keep going... under the jacket. I could feel Fox’s cold edges against my fingers. It felt good. The goodness spread up my hand. My head started to clear up, even though the pain didn’t go away. Fox’s magical properties taking effect.
I flexed my fingers and gripped.
Fox, custom made for my hand.
It felt like he jumped out of the holster on his own. Before I’d unplugged him back at the house, I’d downloaded an alternating payload routine to him. Each time I pulled the trigger, I’d get either pure kinetic force or a rubber bullet, taking turns. I wouldn’t have to reload because he ran on the magical tech I’d machined into him. He’d keep making bullets all night long.
Baby Face raised his hand at me. I knew he’d have to say a few words if he wanted to light me up again. All I had to do was squeeze the trigger. It was easy.
There was a high-pitched whip, and Baby Face flew backwards like he’d
been kicked in the nose by a Clydesdale. Thanks to the magic of, well, magic, there was no recoil. I felt my face pull back into a wild grin.
It worked.
Fox worked.
With him down, the remaining fuzz cleared out of my head. The remnants of his spell fell to the metaphorical ground. Stoneface and Flamingo Earrings were staring at me, seemingly frozen, but it wasn’t a spell this time. I think they were in shock.
Stoneface let go of Dan’s forehead, and I squeezed the trigger again, covering Flamingo Earrings’ center of mass. Rubber bullets will knock the wind right out of you. Maybe break some ribs. The shot was quiet, but Dan let out a yelp that turned into a strained gasp. He clutched his side.
I’d hit him instead.
Oops.
I guess my hands were shaking. I blame the Fog of War.
He doubled over, and Flamingo Earrings took that as her cue to exit. She let go of him and turned to run.
Another squeeze, another round: kinetic force.
Or it should have been. This time, I didn’t get the pencil thin column of force that had flattened Baby Face. If I’d had the ability to measure it, I’m guessing this shot would have done the same overall amount of work as the first, but this was spread out over the entire width of the room. It didn’t do more than ruffle her hair.
Clearly, there were still some bugs to work out.
Dan made a motion like he was trying to crawl toward her, but he was in too much pain. In a flash, she was gone out a back door I hadn’t noticed until now.
I got to my feet and brought Fox in line with Stoneface’s craggy, flat nose. Dan was on hands and knees on the floor between us, straining to catch his breath. Baby Face was down. The gentleman and Red were both on the ground, twitching.
Stoneface raised his hands.
“What is that thing?” he said, and I could hear the edges of an Eastern European accent.
“A surprise,” I said.
Okay, what was my next shot? I couldn’t remember. My brain was still not working at one hundred percent. I didn’t want to actually shoot him in the face with the rubber bullet. It could do serious damage. Broken orbitals, nose, etc. Although with his face, maybe not.
“Shoot - him,” said Dan, wheezing.
I couldn’t be sure, so I lowered the barrel toward his chest and squeezed. The trigger went “click” but nothing happened. I’m not sure exactly what the look was that came over my face, but it made Vasily snort. He kicked Dan out of the way and charged at me.
I slammed the trigger back again, and a rubber bullet fell out the front of the barrel with an almost cartoon-like plop.
Vasily hit me, and he didn’t even bother with magic. Just clocked me on the chin, a fast, rough uppercut. Suddenly, I was looking at the ceiling and felt my knees buckle. He’d probably follow up with another shot, so I tried to get my arms up to defend my head. They weren’t listening. But it didn’t come. He’d run past me.
I spun weakly and saw him jump off the loading dock outside.
“Have to get him,” said Dan from behind me. He was standing, face twisted up with pain. “Come on.”
His breath was short, and he winced with every step he took. He stalked past me, out the door, onto the dock.
I had half a mind to start blasting away with Fox into Dan’s back until he went down, then drive home and try to forget this had happened. These people had no idea who I was and I could deal with the fallout from Dan later.
Or I could just go home without shooting him.
“I’m out,” I said. “And you’re an asshole.”
“Well.”
I waited a second, but he didn’t say anything else.
“Well, what?”
“Look, these folks are bad news. I’m sorry I dragged you into this, and I should have been a little more honest about what was going on.”
“You think?”
“But you need to go get Stoneface and bring him back here. I’m going to stay and wipe their memories. We don’t want this crew laying a location spell on us and showing up in the middle of the night sometime.”
“You mean like we just did?” I said.
“Maybe.” Dan grimaced. “Look, we don’t want to be on Stoneface’s shit list. Get him back. I’ll wipe the lot, and we’ll be on our way.”
“And I have to do this myself, because?”
Dan laughed, then gasped again. “Because someone seems to have broken my ribs with rubber bullets, and I can barely walk.”
Good point.
I stepped out of the door and looked around. My head was throbbing. There was no sign of him. I didn’t hear retreating footsteps or see anything that would indicate where he had gone. The environment was providing zero information.
How was I supposed to find him? Somehow, on TV you could follow someone pretty easily in a situation like this. If there was snow on the ground, I’m sure I could have managed. But there wasn’t. Just an empty parking lot and poor lighting.
“Hey genius,” I said, “You have any tricks you can whip up to tell me where to go?”
He snorted. “They’re not tricks, Lincoln. They’re illusions.”
And this is why I still kind of liked Dan.
“And no,” he said. “That’s not my kind of thing. I could do a location with the right stuff and if I had time. But I can’t pull it off like this. And not here.”
As the pain in my head started to ebb, some good old rational fear began to creep in.
“We need to hurry this up and stay on guard,” I said. “What if that lady circles back around?”
“She’s long gone.”
“You willing to bet your life on that?” I said. “Here’s the plan. You do the memory wipe on the three turds here. I’m going to barricade the back door and stand watch at the one you kicked in.”
“That doesn’t involve finding Stoneface.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “We have no chance of finding him, so we do the best we can with what we have. Stay on guard and put ourselves in the best position to make a move afterward. And let’s cut the lights.”
Dan said nothing. I killed the lights. There was enough light spilling in the door from the big loading dock lamps that it was easy to see once your eyes were adjusted. Then, Dan watched the broken door while I braced the back one with a chair under the doorknob. It wasn’t a superb security measure, but no one would be sneaking up on us that way.
I positioned myself just inside the broken door, close enough that I had a good view of anyone approaching in almost a 150-degree arc, but far enough inside that I wasn’t directly illuminated by the outdoor lamps.
Behind me, I could hear Dan moving around, murmuring. He was wiping their memories. The way he’d explained it to me months ago, when he did something like that, it didn’t just suppress the memories. It actually removed them at an organic level. And because he was only altering a very, very small amount of matter in their brains at close range, it used a minimal amount of magical power. I’d suggested some fMRI work to confirm what was going on, but he wasn’t interested.
In my limited experience, Praecants are fantastically uncurious about the mechanisms behind their magic.
My fear that we would be ambushed kept me alert, even though the initial adrenaline rush followed by the mental pile driver of Baby Face’s spell had left me exhausted.
It took Dan about five minutes to finish up.
“What do we do now?” he said.
“You’re asking me?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m not very good with the planning. I just kind of… do stuff.”
“You don’t say.”
I took a step forward until I was standing in the doorway.
“I think I just want to go home,” I said.
I noticed the sound of running footsteps probably an instant before my peripheral vision saw the brick. That’s probably what gave me enough time to flinch backwards. The brick still hit me, just not square in the face. It glanced off my forehead in
stead. It didn’t hurt so much as sent a shockwave through my skull.
Stoneface came barreling into the room, pushing past me and tackling Dan. They went down. Dan was already in bad shape, and Stoneface pinned him to the ground and managed to straddle him all in one motion. Something flashed in his hand, a shiny black cylinder. He said a harsh word, and a small length of magical energy extended from it, a stiletto drawn in miasmic purple.
I dropped to one knee for a better angle, pointed Fox at Vasily’s back and started pulling the trigger as quickly as I could. I only stopped when he was a crumpled pile, laying beside Dan. His magical knife was once again just a handle. Stoneface’s back, which had been hit with at least four rubber bullets and as many blasts of pure force, was spasming. He was making a combination groan/grunt kind of sound.
Dan gingerly sat up. He picked up the black cylinder, Stoneface’s magical switchblade, and gripped it tightly. Dan said a word, and the thin blade made of magic re-appeared. It was bluer than when Stoneface had wielded it.
With a grimace, Dan got up to his knees. He grabbed the back of Stoneface’s shirt and tried to drag him closer. He raised the knife.
“Dude,” I said.
Dan looked up at me, fury in his eyes.
“No,” I said. Fox was still in my hand, held carefully down at my hip. “No way.”
Dan’s face screwed up, and he put his hand against his head like he was pressing the tension out of it. He took a few shallow breaths, then the magical knife disappeared into his pocket.
“The jacket,” he said. “We can’t come away from this empty handed.”
“You said it yourself: it’s not here. Wipe him and let’s jet.”
“I’ll see if I can pick it from his brain. It’ll only take a little longer.”
“No,” I said. “I’m about two seconds from completely losing my shit here. Wipe him. I’ll watch the door. Just do it.”
He didn’t argue, and when I saw him reach down and touch Stoneface’s head, I took up my previous position just inside the door. After about two minutes, Dan came up behind me.
“Let’s go,” he said.
Lincoln, Fox and the Bad Dog Page 2
