For most of the remaining daylight Laura hunkered down in the Sweeper shop, straining her ears to hear the radio in the pawnshop. At exactly 5:43, a newscaster announced that the hostile group had been caught. Okane was listening too, because he asked, “What’s going to happen to them?”
Clae paused in the middle of cleaning a gun and regarded them for a moment, before using one hand to mime someone falling from a great height.
11
HITTING THE GRIT
“Infestations don’t spread in a physical manner. They don’t reproduce in the way you’re familiar with. There are no males or females, they do not divide to asexually reproduce. They do not give birth. There is absolutely no way to prevent the spread. An amulet could be stored in a safe, completely and utterly shut off from the world, and an infestation could take root anyway. It is believed that this happens in part due to proximity and aggression level of another infestation, but experiments show that it happens whether or not there are multiple in the vicinity. The addition of another just seems to speed the growth. Nevertheless, the theory is that this monster resonates with the hollow of an amulet, prompting the absence of anything inside to develop into an ‘absence’ creature. That begs the question, if a monster can ‘resonate’ as such, is it possible that other things could ‘resonate’ and trigger the birth without our knowing? The creature was created by man; perhaps it’s still being assisted without us even noticing.”
“In a nutshell”—Laura turned to walk backward, addressing Okane—“nobody knows how they get places. Many theories, nothing concrete.”
“Ah.”
“As such,” Clae continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “infestations could take root anywhere, at any time. They’re more common the further south you are, but Amicae is considered southerly so we’re in the red zone. The only way to stop it is by monitoring habitable areas through recording amulet ownership and use, recycling, and monitoring Pits.”
Laura knew all of this too, but it must’ve been new to Okane, because he nodded.
“That’s why you two always need to be armed. With no way to predict when, where, or how developed they’ll be, you don’t want to be defenseless at any time.”
“Have you lost an apprentice that way too?” asked Laura.
“I made that mistake myself,” Clae confessed, eyes still directed straight ahead. “It was a very unpleasant experience.”
He stopped short, suddenly enough that the others almost ran into him. He had led them from the shop forty minutes ago, and Laura wondered if they’d reached their destination.
On their right rose a temple, one of the larger of its kind in this Quarter. Churches dedicated to righteous spirits tended to be on a grander scale and had the run of the city, but the temples and shrines of immortals had clung to existence.
One of the big differences between spirits and immortals was that spirits were all facets of an individual god known as the Spinner, and each facet was invoked to make the worshiper a better person and more deserving of salvation in the life after death; immortals were a pantheon essentially created to explain certain happenings like falling stars and the advent of music, and their worshipers aligned themselves with members of the pantheon and supposedly, if they pleased their patrons, became permanent guests of their kingdoms after death. In both beliefs, those found unworthy wandered a wasteland for all eternity. The spirit ideals were brought over from the Old World before the quarantine or the monsters had even occurred to anyone, while the immortals were more of a native thing. The original inhabitants of Orien hadn’t left much more visible influence than their old temples and gods, and their remaining religion was still the object of scorn by association.
The outside walls of this temple were covered in tile mosaics of stars, animals, and abstract people, the sloping domed roof dark and undecorated. Great stone canir flanked the open doorway with gaping jaws.
“So what’s this?” Laura asked.
“The unexpected. Are you ready?”
“Are you telling me there’s an infestation in there?” Laura gave him an appalled look.
“I didn’t sense it,” Okane muttered.
“That’s because it’s small,” said Clae. “I planted it there. We’re having another training exercise. And you”—he looked at Okane—“are going to exterminate this.”
Okane shrank down. “I don’t think I can.”
“Laura will walk you through it.”
“I’ll what?” Laura deadpanned.
“You’ll learn through teaching.”
“But—” Okane began, but Clae cut him off.
“If we want you in the field anytime this decade, we need to work harder. Who knows? Maybe you’ll do better in the moment than with tests.”
“But you won’t be helping,” said Laura.
“I’ll be observing, but I’m not lifting a finger unless you’re about to die. You’re doing this on your own strength with the equipment you have on hand. If you fail this test, I will have no choice but to spring these traps on you more frequently, with absolutely no warning, and leave you to flounder. Unless you want an infestation after you at three in the morning, you’ll do this right.”
Laura’s shoulders slumped. She’d been through this before, the more practical training, but she’d never enjoyed it and she always had forewarning; several days’ forewarning, usually. She didn’t appreciate the surprise, and judging by the pallor of Okane’s face he didn’t either.
“--- would do that?” he breathed, horrified.
“I would.”
Laura had the feeling she’d be doing this mostly solo. That was okay though, she reminded herself as she pulled herself to full height. She’d helped take out the Two-Monther. A test like this should be child’s play.
Clae threw a hand up, barked, “Begin!” and walked over to lounge against one of the statues. A man in priestly robes rose up from the statues’ shadow to meet him. They must’ve been in cahoots.
“Right then,” Laura sighed, resigned. “What kind of equipment did you bring?”
“An Egg.”
“Just one?”
“Yes.” He looked at the ground in shame or embarrassment.
“I’ve got two more.” Laura patted her belt. “If it really is small, we should be fine.”
“If --- say so.”
“Of course we will be! Come on.” She led the way through the open doorway.
Ribbons dipped down from the gloomy ceiling, festive colors festooning a wide passage otherwise bleak. Beaded ornaments hung on the walls, methodically spaced, and the dark purplish rock of the floor made their every footstep echo deeper inside.
“I don’t like this place.” Okane’s voice echoed too, and he shied away at the sound. “It’s too loud. Don’t they listen for Sweepers?”
“There’s not a lot we can do, but we can minimize it. Whisper instead and use the amulets.”
Laura tapped the amulet on her belt, and magic rushed down to her feet to lessen the noise. It was muffled but certainly audible. Okane copied, and they did their best to sneak into the main room.
The circular main room was lit by an oculus in the domed ceiling. Afternoon sunlight filtered in to illuminate the place, shining down through the huge hole in the floor. Well, it wasn’t so much a hole as a drop. The walkway stretched seven feet wide, no railing; the flat part on their level served as a landing as the rest created a spiraling staircase, wrapping twice before reaching the bottom floor. Alcoves lined the stairs, dips in the wall with tiny altars and statues of immortals inside. Jumbles of offerings littered the spaces, candles, coins, art pieces, and even food items crammed in around the statues’ legs; more bright ribbons were tied about the limbs, so the statues appeared to have rainbow sleeves and pants. The first statue in its alcove grimaced at its unfortunate wardrobe.
“Well?” Laura prompted as she began to descend the stairs. “Feeling anything?”
“Nothing,” came the miserable response. Okane eyed
the statues balefully.
“Let me know if you do, okay?”
“Right.”
They kept walking, step after step after step until they were nearly two-thirds of the way down and Okane inhaled sharply. Laura stopped short, hand flying to her belt.
“You sensed it?”
“It’s … it’s two more down.”
The alcove in question hosted a statue the size of Cheryl, sitting with legs crossed and head downturned, the smile on its face oddly reminiscent of the ones carved into the Sweeper amulets. A royal purple robe was tied about its form, almost eclipsed by more ribbons and an old Underyear wreath hung about it like a sash. A porcelain horse and smaller equine figures cluttered any space not covered by the altar and rotting fruit atop it.
“Anything more specific?” Laura surveyed the mess from a distance before glancing up.
Clae hovered at the very top of the stairs, watching them just as he’d stated before. The robed man stood behind him, yammering something that was lost in the echo of the room, but Clae paid him no attention. Instead the Sweeper met her gaze, held up three fingers, and mouthed, A.M. Laura scowled. She doubted he’d plant an infestation in her apartment in the wee hours of the morning, but he’d probably plant one somewhere. Every time he assigned one of these tests he got nastier about it.
“It’s behind the statue, I think.” Okane’s voice brought her back to earth, and she looked back at him.
“You’re sure?”
“Not entirely. I feel it but it’s not enough to pinpoint beyond there.”
If Clae planted this, it must’ve been a small enough infestation to be handled without danger. Maybe they wouldn’t have to blow up the statue; that would certainly be preferable.
Laura cast about, skipped down to the next alcove, and pulled a long stick of incense from the offerings. She brought it back up and prodded at the area behind the statue. This way she could search for an amulet and rouse the monster into showing itself, hopefully. It worked. She got resistance on the other end of the stick. A sharp tug, and she let go immediately. Blackness rose up, roiling like a chunky shadow on the wall behind the statue.
“Whoa. Well, we found it.”
“Now what?” Okane squeaked.
“Well, uh, we destroy it! Obviously!”
“How?”
“Beat it into submission and douse it. I think we have to draw it out first.”
“How?”
“Oh, use some imagination!”
As they spoke, the darkness spread, and Laura got an idea. She stomped. The sound echoed. A ripple went through the monster and it reached out faster. Laura dismissed the magic on her shoes and clattered slowly up the stairs, making as much noise as possible.
“Shh!” Okane hissed. “Keep doing that and it’ll attack ---!”
“Exactly!”
The monster oozed out, glinting slimy and formless. It wriggled through the mortar joints, toward the source of the noise. It wasn’t fast, and the meager amount told Laura that this was a baby infestation, just grown old enough to feed. She kept stomping, luring it closer. More confident now, it spread. Black eclipsed white stone like a vertical pond.
“Okay Okane, your turn,” she said. He went even paler than before, skittering away a few steps behind her. “You’re going to attack it with that Egg. Ready?”
Okane patted himself down in a panic before remembering the utility belt. He pulled out an Egg with shaky hands and reeled back to throw it.
“Hang on!” Laura cried, diving forward and grabbing his hand. He balked, twisting his entire body away in response. Laura let go and glanced back to see what made him so panicked. The creature kept its pace, not at their level yet; she must’ve been the thing that spooked him. Maybe she moved too suddenly. At this point it didn’t much matter.
“You have to arm them first!” she told him, following his hasty retreat. “If you throw it without activating it with the amulet, it won’t do anything. It’ll just break. Amulet first, then throw.”
Okane calmed down minutely and followed her advice. He clicked the Egg against his own amulet and threw it. They were lucky the infestation was so small and slow, or that little lesson could’ve gotten them killed. In this case, though, the Egg sailed in a low arc and hit the steps beneath the creature. The glass cracked audibly, and the pair dashed up the stairs to get out of range. The Egg went off with a roar, and golden light danced off the bleak walls. The stairs and alcove offerings shuddered in place. Laura changed direction to charge back down. The place it had been was smeared dark, the stone cracked and mortar weeping smoke. The creature’s form had vanished, but she heard its squeaks and squeals of pain behind the statue. It was crippled. One good blow and she could kill it. One, two steps, and she was in front of the alcove. Laura whipped out her own Egg, but stopped short. She wasn’t the one meant to do this. She could finish this easily, but it wasn’t her task. Something ugly tugged in her chest: Do it anyway, show your worth, leave him in the dust. Okane trembled on the step behind her—he looked ready to let her go on, ready to stand aside. That was probably why she forced herself to stop.
“You’re the one supposed to be doing this. Here.” She tried to hand off the Egg, but Okane backed off.
“--- can do it.”
“What? No! This is supposed to be your test, I’ve already done enough!”
“But I don’t—”
“Just take the Egg, lean in there, pour kin on the monster and the amulet, okay?”
“But—”
“Hurry! Before it recovers!”
Okane jumped. He took the Egg, fumbled to pull off the top.
“Just break it!”
“R-right!”
He leaned into the alcove, arm outstretched. Blackness bubbled and smoke rose on the far wall as the creature stirred again. He shuddered and made as if to fall back.
“You’ve got this, come on!” Laura called.
He forced himself to stay put and crack the Egg against the wall. It hit hard; glass smashed at the force, and he reeled away. Kin liquid spilled out onto the dark spot, hitting the creature with a hiss both audible and visible. Smoke puffed out, twisting thin clouds while snaps and pops issued from the spot. Tendrils shot up and smacked against the alcove walls, dislodging offerings as the creature writhed in pain. With every blow the statue shook; the tendrils twisted and thrashed enough to rip off ribbons. More cracks appeared on the stone walls, tainted dark like smeared tar in the creature’s wake. Laura and Okane took hurried steps back. Laura’s mind raced. Something so small shouldn’t struggle this much. Did they need more Eggs? She held out one arm, ushering Okane behind her as she checked her belt. She could probably hold it off long enough for Clae to get here. But the creature had no interest in them anymore. Soon the noise died. The tendrils lost momentum and slid back down in defeat. One clawed at the statue in a few last, desperate swipes, yanking the statue by its robe and rending the wreath in two. At last it stopped. The tendrils liquefied. They spilled out of the alcove like a waterfall of pitch, carrying offerings with them to clatter and vanish into rancid smoke as soon as they hit the floor. The smoke wound down to nothing. One last hiss and it was certain. The monster had died.
Laura gave a shaky sigh. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Okane replied, slowly straightening and rubbing his hands together as if checking for glass shards. “I’m lucky. I … I think it’s dead. Right?”
“Took you long enough.” Clae’s scoff made them both jump. At some point he’d descended the stairs, so now he stood right behind them. He observed the alcove, the discolored walls and crushed or toppled offerings, with something like disdain.
“At least it’s done,” Laura defended.
“You keep hesitating.” Clae scowled at Okane. Okane mumbled something but otherwise didn’t argue.
“You did spring it on us. Maybe if you did a gradual approach he’d have built up a better spine?” Laura suggested, displeasure coloring her tone as she moved
to stand by Okane.
“The private lessons are the gradual work-up.”
“So those are going well, then.”
Neither of them said anything, and that was answer enough. Clae reached into the alcove and fished out the amulet. It was a small, orange-painted horse with the head missing. Its broken form exposed one end of the magic hollow. He shook it, and some kin slipped out of the hole like golden blood.
“Good aim.” He sounded reluctant to compliment. “Just know that could easily have gone wrong. Very wrong. So you can’t start panicking. You can’t hesitate like that. If not for yourself, then for the people next to you. You don’t want her to get eaten, do you?” Clae jerked his head at Laura, and Okane looked mildly horrified.
“No!”
“Why am I being dragged into this?” Laura grumbled.
“Because more than one Sweeper’s been done in by the incompetence of coworkers, even in just the past few years. She carried you through this the whole time. If she’s busy watching your inept back, she’s distracted from watching her own. Fall behind, and you’ll lose her like you lost the haven.”
“I can take care of myself.” Laura didn’t completely believe that, and by the look on Clae’s face he didn’t believe it one bit either.
“If that’s what you’re thinking, best start praying now.” He gestured back at the beribboned statue.
“That’s a good choice for Sweepers.”
Laura inhaled sharply and Okane twitched badly next to her. The priest stood on the stair just behind them, wrinkled face pulled up in a good-natured smile. He raised his arm to direct their attention to the statue again.
“This immortal is keeper of the stars. A light in the dark, if you will. I think he would be most sympathetic to your plight.”
“Sure,” Laura mumbled, forcing a smile for politeness.
City of Broken Magic Page 19
