by Elise Kova
They emerged on an upper floor and Jo trailed behind one of the men she’d decided to follow from the elevator around the hall and up a short side stair to yet another reception area. However, unlike the main lobby of the building, this was much smaller. A single couch sat opposite a small desk where a woman greeted the man. Jo looked down the hall to a lone door bearing the white and red Japanese flag proudly.
“That must be the office,” she said, starting off in its direction.
The ease with which they’d managed to get this far astounded her. Because if there was one thing she’d learned early on, it was that no job ever went off “without a hitch.”
So she shouldn’t have been surprised, really, when she finally stood before the door and encountered a problem.
“Jo? What’s the matter?” Nico whispered, despite the fact that neither of them had their watches on. He was standing at her side, shifting the painting on his shoulder.
It wasn’t until then that Jo realized she’d been staring at the door, or more specifically the biometric security system attached to it, for a good couple of minutes, frozen under the weight of the unexpected lack of magical sensation. There wasn’t that same unraveling she usually felt. The lock didn’t transform into a deeper understanding before her eyes. It did. . . nothing.
She closed her eyes, trying to remember anything she’d seen or heard about the technology before her. Nada. Eyes still closed and mind whirring like an overheating, old, moving hard-drive, she tried to imagine what the tech on the inside might be like. There had to be a weakness somewhere she could exploit. Still nothing. No magical spark buzzing beneath her skin, no sense of the door’s secrets laying themselves bare at her feet.
With a huff, Jo let her eyes flutter back open.
“I’ve never seen a lock like this before,” she finally managed to mumble, brow furrowed in concentration as if she might be able to will her magic to work anyway.
“I see. . .” Nico said, even though his tone betrayed that he clearly did not understand.
A new thought had a spike of terror running down Jo’s spine. “Usually, that shouldn’t be an issue. But my magic isn’t working. It’s not—I can’t decipher anything.” She dug deep, trying to see if she felt any hint of it at all. Nothing, nothing, nothing. In fact, it almost felt like an absence of magic entirely; that part of herself that was now distinctly “other” felt almost empty, hollow, the more she stared at the lock. Her stomach dropped. Not now; her magic could fail any time but now. “It’s not helping me work out a way to break in like it normally does. I—”
“What do you mean?” Nico asked, voice equally panicked. “I don’t understand.”
Frantically, Jo peeled her eyes away from the biometric scanner, looking about the mostly empty hallway before landing on a wall-mounted thermostat.
Without a word to Nico, Jo rushed over to it, analyzing the make and model and recognizing it as one she’d seen installed in many of her higher-paying clients’ offices. It was based on a semi-artificial intelligence unit set to recognize the average heat signatures of the bodies within the building. It pinpointed algorithmic consistencies through the sensors in the smart bands everyone wore on their wrists, adjusting each floor to benefit the widest demographic.
Hardly a look was all it took for Jo to know exactly how she would be able to access those commands and issue a building-wide freeze or meltdown. She could feel the certainty of it in her veins, hear the echoing thrum of something ethereal yet distinctly her buzzing about between her ears.
The relief behind the realization was so potent she could taste it. Her magic was still working, after all. If she knew what she was dealing with. Nico’s earlier comments, before the start of the wish, returned to her.
“It’s my restriction.” The admission left a sour taste on her tongue.
“What is?”
“I can’t crack something apart unless I sort of know how it’s put together—at least the basics, I think. I have to see something of its guts. . . Without that fundamental knowledge, I’m useless.” She looked back at him, panic rising in her. He’d brought her to help him get where he needed to go and now she was going to fail him. Just like she’d already failed all of them. . . again.
“Everyone has their restrictions.” Nico put on a brave face, brave enough to dare a smile. “I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t work around.” Bless him.
“You’re right.” Jo leeched off his certainty. She’d been in tougher spots. Restrictions be damned, she could do this. “If I can’t break the lock, we just have to find another way in,” Jo said once she was back at Nico’s side.
“Likely for the best, really.” He looked back down the hall. “Even if you could break into it, you’d have to have your watch active. If we clocked into time now, we’d surely be noticed.”
Jo nodded in agreement. Simply unlocking the prime minister’s door and strolling in was out of the question. They had to find another way to get the door open without causing a scene.
“Okay, okay.” Jo ran both hands through her hair before clapping them hard on Nico’s shoulders. He jumped, but otherwise made no motion to shake off the touch. “We need someone else with access. Someone else he’d trust with entry to his personal office. Maybe like, a cabinet member? Or the deputy prime minister? Something?” But where were they supposed to find someone who prime minister Nakamura would answer his door for? Especially in a crisis like this one? And with what time?
“Maybe we don’t need somebody that high up.” Nico’s voice pulled her away from the spiraling “what ifs” and back to their present situation. He, too, seemed to be lost in thought, looking off in another direction, focus unwavering and expression set with fierce determination. It was the same resolve she’d seen when he took up the torch the rest of them had all but extinguished.
She followed that gaze back to the desk situated at the front of the hall like a guard post. A woman, likely the prime minister’s secretary, sat, chatting with the man they had followed up to this floor to begin with. All at once, Nico’s plan of action solidified amidst the growing details of her own.
“You’re a genius, Nico!” She nearly laughed, her hands finally falling from Nico’s shoulders as she began another quick search of the other offices on this floor. All she needed now was an open door and an active third-party computer, and they’d be golden. “Wait here. This won’t take long!”
Jo sprinted back down the hall to one of the larger main areas. A door several yards ahead swung open, and Jo doubled her pace as she b-lined for entry. A distracted businessman exited, more focused on his phone than anything else—especially not a phantom outside of time sprinting toward the room.
Please don’t shut the door. Jo prayed silently. Please, please don’t shut the door.
Popping out of time to let herself into the man’s office surely wouldn’t go unnoticed. Discovery would force them to abort, pull out of time again, and wait until the chaos their presence caused died down. The prime minister would perhaps leave for a more secure area, and they’d have to figure out a way to follow. All of which wasted time they barely had.
Luckily, the distracted businessman remained exactly that, rushing out of his office without bothering to close his door, leaving it wide open for any lucky wish granter to take advantage of. From there, it was simply a matter of jumping back into time, hacking into the computer’s communications systems, and accessing the right connection.
“Let’s get into your email. . .” Jo crouched down behind the desk, peering up at the oversized monitor she hoped would hide her from any wandering eyes. “Dear miss secretary. . . looks like your boss needs you,” Jo paraphrased as her fingers typed with a magical command of the Japanese language.
Jo had no doubt that it wouldn’t do them any good if the secretary called the prime minister; the man was probably too busy dooming his country to deal with any of her problems beyond a curt reply over the phone. But if he were to request her presence—
> Letting a combination of magic and skill flow down from eyes to fingertips, Jo sent the email from the prime minister’s personal line to the secretary’s desk. Even from around the corner and a few doors down, she heard the beep beep of a message received almost instantly. Jo clicked her way out of the various windows she’d opened, made a hasty cleanup of her work, turned off her watch, and hurried back to Nico.
He was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as she sprinted down the hall, half watching her approach, half watching the secretary get to her feet. The woman crossed swiftly to the prime minister’s door, leaving the man she’d been speaking to waiting on the couch.
They’d have seconds, if that, to get past her once she opened the door, but it was their only chance. And they were going to take it.
The secretary placed her hand over the biometric lock and Jo watched carefully: still, no magical understanding. But the lock opened, and that was all that mattered. When she cracked the door open with zero room for them to get past, Jo’s heart somehow managing to plummet into her stomach and jump into her throat simultaneously. The sudden look of anxious fear on Nico’s face said he felt the same way. What would they do now? There wasn’t enough room for them to squeeze through.
But as if the gods of ironic fate had decided to share with her the gift of convenient memory, Jo found herself thinking back to the Rangers compound.
Snow and she had walked at a casual pace down the hallways, never once diverging from their path. All the while, they remained unnoticed, and despite the many occasions that Ranger personnel could have collided with them unknowingly, they’d somehow (subconsciously, magically, or otherwise) chosen to go around them. The elevator had been the same—cramped, yet none of the other businessmen and politicians there had decided to even try to occupy the little bit of space in the corner where Jo and Nico had stood invisible. It was just a hunch, but Jo ran with it, stepping in front of Nico and inching towards the secretary’s right side.
The woman was in the process of inquiring as to the prime minister’s concerns when Jo managed to get a foot between the Japanese woman and the door. There was no movement, and Jo felt her chest clench in steadily rising panic. Still, she tried to inch her hip into the smallest amount of open space the woman’s leaning frame provided; to maintain her balance, she pressed her hands ever-so-slightly against the secretary’s right hip.
The barely-there touch might as well have been Jo asking the secretary to step aside, what with the way she abruptly pulled back from the door to bow in apology at the prime minister’s confusion and annoyance. The polite motion gave them ample room to get not just Jo, but Nico and the painting inside without issue.
By the time the secretary ushered herself out with one final, profuse apology for bothering him unnecessarily, they were situated in front of the prime minister’s desk. For a breath or two, Nico and Jo just stood there, watching the face of the man standing between them and the deaths of hundreds of thousands of his citizens—content, it would seem, to pour over what looked to be poll numbers instead. It was surreal, knowing that so many lives rested on this moment, this second, of precious, borrowed time.
“You ready?” Jo asked, even though it didn’t matter. Nico nodded, but his trembling hands said otherwise; he understood, too. Whether they were ready or not, this was happening in “Three, two, one.”
Nico jumped back into time and held up the painting in the same fluid motion.
Jo held her breath.
Chapter 28
Final Hope
“WHAT THE—” THE Prime Minister of Japan froze mid-sentence. His jaw went slack and his eyes grew glossy as he stared at the painting, seemingly no longer concerned that it had somehow magically materialized before him.
Jo shifted her weight from foot to foot. Time ticked on Nico’s watch, though he barely seemed to breathe as the minutes passed. The only thing about him that betrayed life was the slight tremble in his forearms as he continued to hold out the painting.
“Is it working?” Jo finally whispered by letting out a breath she could no longer hold. Her eyes ping-ponged between the painting and the man still enthralled by it.
“I. . . I think so,” Nico whispered in reply. Even though he was in time, the prime minister didn’t even move or react to the voice. “I can feel the magic.”
Jo closed her eyes. She blocked out the stately office and wall of windows that let in a midday sun, already setting on the last of their time. She tried to feel the magic, too, tried to sense it like she could her own.
There was a tickle on the edge of her mind, a growing sensation the more she focused on it. Nico’s magic, and then hers, side by side. She stared at the painting, at the aura of power that radiated from it. Jo probed further, curious. She couldn’t just leave it be. Her magic curled around Nico’s magic, trying to pick it apart and understand just what she was sensing.
Something fractured against the force of her magical exploration. In her mind was the echo of something that resembled a lake in winter, ice cracking under the pressure of a weight it was not yet ready to bear. Jo opened her eyes, instinctively retreating from the odd and unwelcome sensation. She didn’t need to know how his magic worked. She had already put all her faith in Nico.
He glanced over at her, as if sensing what she’d done, but said nothing.
Nakamura was still frozen, but his expression was slowly beginning to change. It morphed from a blank slate to a look of abject horror. Jo turned to look at the canvas, trying to see what he saw (without magic, this time).
Mt. Fuji rose from a haze over a land cast in shadow. What looked like the first smoldering rays of sunrise reflected off high gray clouds and put the peak in silhouette. It was almost. . . tranquil.
But when she looked back to the man in power, his brow had furrowed and his mouth was gaping, as if locked in a soundless scream. Yes, Jo’s heart pleaded with each beat, yes, yes, yes!
“What should he be seeing?” she asked; conversation clearly had not broken the trance.
“Pain, destruction, loss.” Generic words that could be assumed, but Nico needed to say no more. If the prime minister was witnessing even half of what the Society had seen over the past months, it would be enough.
Slowly, the man’s eyes regained clarity. The glossy sheen of magic began to lift, its remnants blinked away by the most powerful man in Japan. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.
Jo gripped Nico’s wrist; the trance was clearly broken. But the Italian stayed in time. He held out the painting as if all his muscles had locked into place.
She looked back to the prime minister, who was now blinking away rogue tears spilling over onto his cheeks. “It worked,” Jo whispered in relief.
“An evacuation,” Nakamura whispered to himself. He turned to his computer. It was as if Nico had become a fixture in his office, a statue and a painting, nothing to be alarmed by.
Nakamura stroked in a few commands on the computer. Jo sprinted around, looking at the screen, hovering invisibly over him, a hand he couldn’t feel grasping for stability on his shoulder. A document was open: standard, official-looking letterhead. The date was already typed in—
“Nico, it’s a press release!” The rush of joy was going to tear her apart. The sheer relief was overwhelming. “We did it!”
As if hearing her (which was impossible since she was out of time), and as if determined to prove that everything that could go wrong with this wish would, Nakamura’s fingers stopped mid-sentence. He hung his head, magic continuing to evaporate off his immobile shoulders like the last frayed threads that had held together the Society’s hopes.
The man slowly shook his head and deleted the draft—an omen of doom. “I can’t. . .” he said, as if speaking to them both.
Nico’s fingers uncurled and the painting dropped like dead weight, a curtain falling upon their last hope and revealing its maker’s horror. Jo watched it happen, as if in slow motion. She didn’t hear the canvas striki
ng the floor. She heard, instead, the sharp intake of breath from Nakamura. She saw the man’s brow furrow and his lips part as his head snapped upward, all traces of magic gone.
“We have to go!” Jo practically leapt over the desk, bounding to Nico in a few wide steps. She grabbed the frozen Italian, shaking him. “Get out of time.”
“Who the hell are you?” The prime minister was on his feet. His hand slipped under the desk, no doubt to push a panic button. “How did you get in here?”
Jo rummaged through Nico’s pockets, pulling on the chain of his watch to free it. She wondered how it looked to Nakamura, if the watch was merely floating in space or perhaps didn’t exist to him at all. It didn’t matter; they were about to be ghosts anyway. She tried to push on the watch, turn the dials, open the face, but Jo couldn’t affect it. She recalled what Takako had said when she’d first used the recreation room: No one could activate another person’s watch.
Clinging to the chain, Jo pushed it toward Nico, dangling it in front of his face. “We have to go, Nico, now, push it now!”
A commotion was rising outside the door. Jo practically punched the man in the face trying to get his attention. Numbly, a hand rose, tapping on the watch.
Jo heard the prime minister’s shock from behind her, no doubt coming from the fact that the strange man had just disappeared in thin air. She turned, glaring at him, and in the same moment stooped to scoop up Nico’s painting. She pulled them toward the door of the room before it could be thrust open by whatever responders were fast on the way to the office.
It wasn’t so much belief that made the Door appear this time, but a magical demand. Jo silently shouted across every possible universe. Appear or feel my wrath. And appear it did.
She wrenched it open with the energy of all her anger and sorrow, feeling like she could rip the thing off its hinges if she so chose. All at once, she allowed herself to be pulled through, painting under one arm, the other linked tightly with the now-trembling shell of a man who had been their final hope.
