“Clae!” Laura shouted. “Get over here!”
“What are you waiting for? Start running!” he yelled back.
“That’s a good idea,” said Okane.
“But Clae is—”
“Is going to kill me if we don’t get out of here now!”
Clae scaled the debris and sprinted toward them, gesturing furiously for them to move. Laura finally got her feet going and they ran for the door. A strange sound like that of the boilers went through the air, followed by a crescendo of hissing, squealing infestation. There was an echoing gunshot and flash behind them, and Laura looked over her shoulder.
Clae was still running, gun in hand. Parts of the infestation swept onto the bridge to block him, roiling and bubbling like water through the grates, mutated hands cresting every wave. He fired at them so they recoiled and fell away again. As he concentrated on that, he didn’t notice the enemy at his back. A dark tendril lashed out, wrapping around his ankle and yanking him off his feet. His face smacked hard against the metal grating, but he recovered fast. He pointed the gun down at the creature and shot. It squealed but didn’t relent. If anything, it got angry. It split again, clawed at him the way the one on the train had clawed at the doors. Kin bullets only made it scream louder. Light could be glimpsed in the mess, and the amulet on his belt matched the luster, shrilling almost as loud as the monster, but kicking was doing no good. The rest of the infestation bubbled in the grate near his head, and this portion of the bridge jerked, groaned. Clae ran out of bullets. He chucked the gun and grabbed for the second one in its holster, but the creatures pulled harder. The bridge section twisted sideways and he had to cling to keep from falling off completely. The loaded gun skidded over the grating and plummeted into the interior.
Laura skidded to a stop and turned to go back, but Okane grabbed her arm. She threw him off once, twice, before he went to physically block her path.
“Get out of the way!”
“No! Laura, please, we have to get out now!” He looked completely terrified, snapping and popping issuing from him, but Laura was too upset to care.
“I’m not leaving him behind!”
“What are you, an idiot?” Clae shouted. “Get out of here before it catches you!”
Laura tried to get around Okane again, to no avail. The bridge wavered, Clae just barely clinging on. His face was furious but his eyes were wide and alight in a way she’d never seen them. Wild. Afraid.
“Run!” he screamed. “Now!”
The structure shuddered again, and his fingers slipped. He tumbled over the side. Laura lurched forward, but Okane caught her and this time he didn’t let go.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he hissed, pushing her back. “But please, he said to run!”
Cackling. The infestations that had harassed Clae bubbled and turned now. They moved through the grating like a many-armed shadow, grasping with flat claws, wriggling madly over and under debris and closing in fast. Laura forced herself to turn and run. The pair sprinted for the door and safety. All the while Laura could hear gleeful hissing on her heels. She almost didn’t think they’d make it, but then, maybe five feet from the door, an unearthly howl rose up from the bowels of the city. The bridge rattled and snapped as the howl grew louder, and something illuminated the walls in a cast of eerie light. The monsters stopped their pursuit and milled in confusion as the near-nonexistent airflow became a strong wind.
They got out of the door and it slammed behind them. The gears at the top ground furiously and policemen rushed to jam them so the door couldn’t open again. The others yelled for some reason or another: how could this happen, get the chief, we need a plan of action, abandon the city.
Laura and Okane stood rigidly in the middle of it all. Laura watched them rushing, heard the noises, but it seemed muffled somehow. A weird calm settled over her mind. All she could think about was how she felt like she was swimming in a coat that was impossibly big, and she could never fit the shoulders that seemed so wide now.
24
ANSELM
The street outside the Sweeper shop was lit. With every house emptied, the police diverted energy to the streetlamps: they blazed like miniature suns to ward off any monsters.
Laura and Okane had been sent back to the shop under the pretense of regrouping or forming some plan or getting equipment. Laura didn’t really know which. It was more because they looked on the verge of a breakdown and no one knew what to do with them. They probably thought familiar surroundings would help, but the shop looked alien.
Laura stopped in the doorway and stared. Suddenly she couldn’t comprehend what was once a safe haven. It occurred to her that the drapes had no more protector, so she could go in if she pleased. The thought was more sickening than satisfying. She’d rather never know what was back there if it meant Clae would come back. Okane flipped on the light and walked farther into the room. He paused near a stool and studied it like he couldn’t figure out if he wanted to sit or not. Laura’s eyes burned. She clenched her jaw and looked at the ceiling until the feeling lessened.
“Why didn’t we help him?”
Okane looked up with a wounded expression. “He didn’t want us to help. He wanted us to escape.”
“But we could’ve brought him with us. I mean, he was right there! We should’ve done something!”
“Something like what?” Okane demanded, eyes narrowing.
“We could’ve used Eggs, or Bijou, I don’t know!” At the time it hadn’t even occurred to her to use equipment. Now it seemed painfully obvious.
“Eggs and Bijou wouldn’t work against that many. It just wouldn’t have worked.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know it’s a bad idea. And I know it was impossible.”
“Well, why didn’t we just charge in? I have this coat on and you’ve got some anti-monster aura, why—”
“That wouldn’t work! --- talk about that, but it didn’t do Clae any good. Those monsters didn’t care about his active amulets. Even if we repel them naturally, we’re too small. They could easily overpower us.”
“Okane, I don’t think you understand,” she hissed, clenching her hands and catching part of the coat’s sleeves in her fists. This just made it worse. She didn’t need a reminder that he was gone, that this didn’t fit at all. “What the hell are we supposed to do without him? We need him! Clae was our linchpin! He’s the best! He’s the only one who knew what he was doing! He’s the only one who cared and he’s gone and we’re all going to die! The city’s sunk! He’s the only reason anyone ever listened to us! And that—he’s what I wanted to be! I wanted to be that person everyone has to take seriously, because I’m not just some stupid girl, I’m here and I have talent and I’m worth something more than this stupid little body, because Clae wouldn’t waste time on something pointless! He’s the only one who saw me clearly, he’s the only one who had faith in—But it doesn’t matter anymore! Who cares if I had any talent, because it didn’t do him any good!” So yes—“He was scared! He trusted me to have his back and I let him die!” Thank you, Laura Kramer. “He thanked me, he counted on me, but I couldn’t do a thing! Not a stinking thing! We’re useless! Why didn’t you just let me try?”
She didn’t register the fact that her voice was rising, but Okane yelled back.
“---’re not the only one he helped, --- know! Stop making me out to be the villain!”
“I’m not! But we didn’t even do anything, and you keep saying—”
“Because if we stayed we all would’ve died!”
“But—”
Okane yanked up his sleeve and held his forearm in front of her face. Another thing Laura had noticed in the past was how Okane always wore long sleeves. It was getting into the colder months, so it made sense, but other people rolled up their sleeves sometimes when working; Okane never had. She saw now this was because of the multitude of old scars carved into his skin. They were scattered, thin and reddish or white and nearly hea
led, all about the same size and same shape: a capital “A” with an extra line going through. The symbol for argents. The symbol for money.
“The Sullivans carved me up since I was a child,” he hissed. “Clae Sinclair pulled me out of there, so don’t act like ---’re the only person he’s saved. Don’t act like ---’re the only one who hates that he’s gone!”
He tugged the sleeve roughly down again and turned away. He went to the middle counter and slid his back down it so he sat on the floor, legs splayed out in front of him.
Laura lingered for a minute, trying to gather her wits. Argent symbols winked before her eyes. Was her mind playing tricks on her? There was no reason why anyone would have argent symbols on them. She wanted to think drawings, maybe tattoos, as rare as those were, but ink didn’t look like that. Carved me up. Carved me up. Scars?
They took him in as a child, fed him, clothed him—
Abused him. Did you think it wasn’t obvious?
She felt a wave of disgust and sorrow. She opened her mouth, couldn’t figure out what to possibly say—“That’s horrible”? “I’m sorry”? both obvious and too weak for the situation—and closed it again. She took a few unsteady steps and opened her mouth again, but there was nothing. She thought better of it. She sank down beside him instead, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. They stared out at the glare beyond the store windows. The silence was unbroken save for the popping and rushing of the Kin above their heads until Okane spoke again.
“My mother brought me out of the caves.”
Laura wasn’t sure what this had to do with the scars, with Clae, but kept her mouth shut. His voice sounded hollow, and the look in his eyes was hardly better.
“I was three, maybe. Really little. I don’t remember the caves well. What little I do is … dark. The caves are still there. The people aren’t. Monsters got in. I can remember the panic and the screaming. I had friends there once, but they were eaten. I think … I think I saw some of them disappear. I don’t remember what their faces looked like anymore, but the sound of it? That’s something I’d never forget. My mother took me into the Silverstone caves to escape. We were among the few who did. She said the others went to other havens, but she wanted to find my father. He’d been sent to see how things had changed in the cities. He never came back. Mama said we had to find him, to make sure he didn’t go back to a monster nest. She said once he saw us he’d be happy, that he’d make that home we needed. We wandered in the wilds for a long time before we reached Amicae. They let us live in the Fifth Quarter, gave us food and shelter. We’d been there a month before Mr. Sullivan came through on one of his ‘humanitarian efforts’ and saw us. He hired Mama. She was so excited, because we’d get better food and she’d have better means to ask around about Papa. But when we moved into the big house, they gave her the worst jobs and kept her away from me. Mr. Sullivan only hired her because he saw my eyes and decided I must be some kind of moneymaking luck charm. Funny, huh?” He tilted his head, a bitter smile on his features. “The Fifth Quarter child raking in money? But he said my eyes were money. He knew I could be lucky, but he didn’t know it only helped me, not others. So he’d go to me when he wanted more money, and somewhere along the line he decided carving money symbols into me was the way to invoke the luck.”
Laura felt something nasty creeping up her throat. The scars burned in the back of her mind. She hated herself for ever comparing his eyes to silver coins.
“He told Mama that no one would believe her if she went for help, because she was only Fifth Quarter trash. She didn’t know any better. She got sick one winter, horribly sick, and he didn’t get her any medicine. He just let her die, because she was an annoyance. He could get rid of people easily. If --- resisted him, he’d get rid of ---. So no one so much as questioned him, and I stopped fighting. But then --- and Clae showed up, and he hauled me out of there and I was free. Clae may have been mean at times and all-around strange, but he rescued me and gave me a place to go where no one could find me and drag me back to that house. He was protection, and I told him not to go down there! I should’ve gone. Maybe the infestations would’ve ignored me longer. I didn’t want him to take that elevator. But he did, and he’s gone like the haven, and I don’t know what to do anymore.”
He hung his head and his hair fell like a curtain, cutting off his face.
“It’s so much worse when I think it’s Sullivan who caused it. Got rid of the annoyances, just like he always did.”
Laura reached out, hesitated, then took his hand. She did so gingerly, since he hated being touched and now she knew the reason. When he didn’t object, she gripped tighter.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wasn’t thinking about anything besides Clae being—” Dead, but she couldn’t say it. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m just … I’m just angry, and sad. It’s not your fault. Don’t act like it is.”
“But ---’re right. We should’ve done more.”
“Didn’t I just say I wasn’t thinking? Forget everything I’ve said up to now.”
Okane gave a mirthless snort. Laura frowned.
“Look, I didn’t know anything about you beyond where we met you and what Clae told me about Magi. When you came into the picture I was scared and … jealous, really. I’m sorry for that. I don’t hate you, and I don’t want you to think I do. You’re my friend, I guess. So I don’t want to see you blaming yourself. We’re going to get through this, okay?”
Okane murmured something in agreement, and Laura turned her head back to the windows. The streetlamps were so bright they hurt her eyes.
After a while, Okane spoke again. “I think I can help a little with the jealousy bit. --- should probably know what’s behind the drapes.”
“That’s where he keeps the Gin.”
“That’s not all there is. Here, I’ll show ---.”
He straightened up, slow enough for Laura to get up too without letting go of his hand. He led her over to the drapes and pulled them aside.
The room behind the drapes extended twelve feet to the left and wide enough to fit four people shoulder-to-shoulder. Shelves lined the walls, supporting a multitude of empty Eggs ready to be filled, though a ratty journal peeked out from the glassy shapes. At the far end sat a large clear tub. Tubing ran over the side and into the floorboards; Laura recognized it as part of the Kin setup. The tubes probably traveled under the floor and came back up behind the counter in the main room.
Inside the tub were the two Gin stones, submerged in water. The left-hand one was the familiar, smooth one they’d gotten in Puer, while the right-hand one must’ve been the stone from under Amicae. It wasn’t so smooth, with sharper angles that made it look like a giant’s arrowhead. Between them was something Laura had never seen before.
It looked like a child curled in on itself, made out of yellow crystal that turned dark gold at its densest points. It was roughly hewn, but Laura could still make out the details of hands, fingernails, the folds in clothes and the laces of shoes. The statue threw off a light similar to the shimmering Gin beside it.
“What is that?” she whispered, stepping closer. Okane trailed behind, hesitant to get closer but not quite willing to be left behind.
“This is Anselm,” he answered. “Anselm Sinclair.”
“Sinclair” made something click in Laura’s mind. “Are you saying that’s Clae’s little brother? But … he died. How did he end up like this?”
“It happens sometimes with Magi. It turns out their great-grandmother was one of us.” Of course, Clae had said that back in Puer. “That’s how they got the roots of that tree around the Pits. She’d whisper to it and ask it to grow whatever way. She told Clae about everything. She said that sometimes when we get too stressed, then we can delve too deep into our magic and actually convert ourselves into it. Anselm was about to be killed by an infestation. Between the presence of that infestation and his own fear, his magic reacted. His magical strain consumed him.”
Laura remembere
d Clae saying that all living things were strains, and felt uneasy. “That can happen to people?”
“Only Magi. Normal people can’t convert because their magic isn’t large or abstract enough.”
“So Anselm changed into this.” Laura tilted her head. Anselm’s hands nearly covered his face, but she could see that his eyes were closed, his face screwed up like he was crying. “And Helen blamed Clae for it.”
“Helen?”
“Their mother.”
“She’s alive?”
“Yes, and she’s awful. She’s in Puer.”
“Clae never mentioned that.”
“Trust me, you never want to meet her. But why is Anselm in here? I mean, I understand that Clae might want to keep him safe and close, but why is he with the Gin? Why not upstairs? If Clae didn’t want anyone to find him, there would be less likelihood of people stumbling in on him if he were upstairs.”
“It’s … kind of bad,” Okane admitted. “Anselm became a strain of individual magic a lot like Gin, but different. Their father decided to use him like Gin.”
“They use him like a tool?”
“Combining his brand of magic with the Gin gives it a major boost. Other Sweepers have to use a lot of Eggs to kill an infestation. The ones with Anselm are potent enough to only need two or so Eggs if they’re used right.”
“But that—It’s his brother’s body! Why would he ever agree to do that?”
“The reason Clae showed me this is because he wanted to see if I knew how to reverse it.”
“Can you?”
“I was three when I left the Magi, remember? And Mama wasn’t in a position to teach me much before she died. If there is a way I never learned about it. So he stays here, like this.” Okane pointed with his free hand at the tubes. “I’ll tell --- how the Kin works, too. When the Gin’s activated, it gives off a gold kind of fog. Usually that goes into the air, but here it all leaches into the water and mixes together. Then it goes to the setup outside. It’s not so much distillation as it is purifying? The system burns out everything but the magical mixture, and the more the magic mixes and the longer and hotter it burns, the more potent it gets. Once it’s finished it gets put into Eggs.”
City of Broken Magic Page 37
