by Anton Strout
“Simon?” she said, still looking a little evil around the gills. “What the hell?”
“I’m not going in there,” I said. “There’s just too many paranormal thingies in there, stuff that I don’t want to encounter in this state, thank you very much. Strange lights in the forest, bronze attack crabs, ghost scientists . . .”
“Suit yourself,” Jane said. Her voice was short, and with little gentility she dropped me onto a bench along the exterior wall of the park. “You’ll have to tell me all about those sometime.”
I hissed in a breath of air from the impact of my body on the bench. Jane started walking off.
“Jane,” I shouted. “Where are you going?”
She stopped, but didn’t turn around.
“I have to go,” she said, her voice cracking and uneven.
“You’re just going to leave me here?” I said, incredulous.
Jane spun around, a conflicted look on her face.
“Do you want to end up dead?” she said. “Did you not see me in there? Then let me go. I almost killed you. I almost killed both of you.”
I waved her over and patted the empty spot on the bench next to me. With some reluctance, Jane came over and sat down.
“You were trying to save me and yourself. You were fighting for your life.”
“I’m so not used to that sort of thing from my days working for the Sectarian Defense League,” Jane said. “We had minions to do our fighting for us.”
“Yeah, well, doing good means that you have to get your hands a little dirtier and not put other people in harm’s way as much.”
Jane shook her head. “I don’t think that was good I was doing,” she said, very somber. “I was out of control. I tried something like that before when I barely even knew what technomancy was, and all it caused was little more than an electric spark.”
“Well, that one was a lot more than a spark, Jane,” I said, holding up my wrists. The Mummy Fingers that had been wrapped around them were crisped up from the last blast of her power. When I flexed my hands, what remained of the bandages crackled apart and fell to the sidewalk in a shower of burnt flakes.
“I know,” she said. “I’ve just been feeling strange lately.”
“How?”
“All this misguided jealousy of yours and the fights we’ve been having . . . When I’ve been working in the Black Stacks in the bookstore, it feels like somehow the books have been talking to me, whispering about all my fears. Then when I showed up and saw Mina there with you, something snapped inside me. It’s like all of it just fed into that spell I cast. I was electrocuting her and I couldn’t stop myself. The horrible part is that I didn’t want to.”
“You have been acting a little season-six Willow on me lately,” I said, hoping to lessen the gravity of her words.
Jane’s mood didn’t lighten.
“I almost killed her,” she said, “and you.”
“But you didn’t,” I said. “That’s the difference.”
“What’s wrong with me?” she said. She balled her fists up and started pounding them on her knees. “Is this what I left Kansas for? To become this?”
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” I said, taking her hands in mine. “Nothing that can’t be handled with a little time off from the Black Stacks, anyway. There’s a lot we don’t know about them, and from what you just said, I don’t think they play fair when they have access to someone nice like you. If there’s anything wrong, it’s with us, our relationship, but I want to fix that.”
Jane nodded, unable to speak. I pulled her to me and hugged her while people passed us by, staring. I didn’t care.
When Jane finally pulled away, she spoke. “Simon, I hate that I even have to say this so bluntly, but it should be pretty obvious by now. I’m not interested in Thaddeus Wesker. He’s my boss. That’s it.”
I stiffened a little at the change in conversation.
“But the night you met Mina, she said you acted like you had something of your own to hide. She had me convinced that maybe something was going on.”
“She was playing you, Simon,” Jane said, putting her hand on my forehead in the universal symbol of duh. “The reason I didn’t start acting all jealous was because I’m not clingy like that and I trust you. God knows why, given all this . . .”
I welcomed the coolness of Jane’s hand against my forehead. Just her touch was enough to calm me. After several seconds that I wished could have lasted forever, Jane pulled her hand off my head and stood, then paced away before turning back to me. Her face was too calm.
“I don’t know what you want me to make of all this, Simon,” Jane said, her voice a whisper. “I really don’t.”
“What does that mean?”
“You get all jealous because I’m around Director Wesker, you know, just doing my job, when I’m the one who has every right to be jealous.”
“Of what?”
Jane looked at me, tears finally forming at the corners of her eyes and she shook her head at me.
“Of Mina, you idiot,” she said, her voice cracking. Tears started flowing down her face. “Are you really that dense? Your little hot redheaded friend shows up in town and suddenly you start acting funny: sneaking around, picking fights with me, and just the other night you actually hung up on me when I clearly heard her in the background. How do you think all that makes a girl feel?”
“There were zombies coming! I had to hang up!” I said, hoping that covered any further need for explanation.
“But why couldn’t you tell me that?” Jane shouted, her face a mask of disbelief. “If anyone in this town would have understood zombies as an explanation, don’t you think it would be me? For heaven’s sake, did you forget that I used to temp around dozens of them?”
“I wasn’t keeping it from you because there was something going on with Mina,” I said. “I mean, there was something going on, but not anything pervy between the two of us.”
Jane gave me a give-me-a-break kind of look. If the roles were reversed, would I have believed her right away if a hot male friend of Jane’s showed up in town and she started acting funny? Probably not.
“Look,” I said, taking my time and trying to be clear. “Mina’s from a part of my past, a part I’m not terribly proud of. When she showed up out of nowhere, I didn’t know what to do. It looked like all she wanted was my help with something and then she’d be back out of my life for good. I didn’t want her to know anything about my life now, because Mina’s the type of person who’d taint it, who’d use it to her advantage if she could. So I tried to hide all the great things in my life from her . . . namely you, Jane. I figured if I just did what she asked before she caused any real trouble, I’d be done with her.”
Jane softened and then gave a wry smile. “Well, that really seems to have worked out for you.”
I nodded, smiling back. “I forgot that no matter what, Mina has a way of corrupting things,” I said. “I’m sorry it took near death and zombies to bring it out. I’m sorry I didn’t come clean sooner.”
“Maybe I have been spending a little too much time with Wesker,” Jane offered, “and the Stacks. Probably not the best idea to be working there right now until I learn to control my deep-frying.”
“Why don’t you talk to the Enchancellors about reassigning you,” I said, “for now? At least until you get more control over your technomancy.”
Jane nodded in acceptance and I felt a tremendous weight lift off my shoulders.
“So what about us?” she asked.
I thought about it a minute before I said anything. It was too important to just rush into an answer. “Honestly, I think we make shitty single people, and I think when you suggested some time apart, it was the worst idea you’ve ever had,” I said.
Jane looked surprised. “Really?”
“Really,” I said, nodding. “I think we should be closer, more open and honest. I know I don’t have a lot of experience with that or with relationships that last more than a
few weeks, but I know I want to work on it with you. Look how we both get when we’re apart. I make stupid mistakes that get me captured by Cyrus and Mina, and you get all Black Magic Woman.”
“We balance each other out,” Jane said. “I like the sound of that.”
“It’s very Zen of us,” I said. “We’re cool like that.”
“Look,” Jane said. “I don’t know if we’re really good together at this point.”
“We are—” I started to say, but she stopped me.
“But I do know that with all these outside influences tugging at us, if we keep ourselves together as a core, we’ll be okay.”
I pulled her close to me again, and this time I kissed her. A shock of electricity jumped between us as we touched, and she jumped, laughing nervously through the kiss.
“So, what now?” she said when we pulled apart. “Back to the Department?”
I nodded.
Jane got up to hail a cab, but my ear caught a distant but familiar sound and I stopped her.
“Easy,” I said, making a pained effort to stand. My body ached with the events of the last hour. “I’m in no condition to rush, and I doubt Cyrus will come out of hiding to pack that freak show up before we get back here with the cavalry.”
“True enough,” she said. “What do you suggest?”
“Well,” I said, “I’d love nothing more than to go home and catch a Buffy marathon, but let’s face it: the paperwork for both of us on this incident is already filling me with dread. I think we should treat ourselves to a little us time while heading back downtown.”
The familiar sound was closer now and Jane heard it, too. She turned toward the clip-clop of a horse as one of the carriages from Central Park approached.
Her eyes lit up.
“I do believe there’s hope for quelling the dark bits in you yet,” I said, and fished out my wallet. “Seems like not everything got destroyed in our encounter.”
The carriage pulled up beside us. The driver didn’t even bat an eye when he saw me, beaten, bruised, and half-charred. All he seemed to see was my wallet.
I helped Jane into the carriage before hoisting myself up, my bones popping and creaking.
“This carriage smells like burnt food,” I whispered in Jane’s ear.
She laughed quietly.
“That would be you, actually.”
“Right,” I said. “Just for that, I’m going to expense this to your department.”
The sun was setting over the trees somewhere far over on the west side, I had my girl by my side, and a slow ride down to the Village to look forward to. It would have been a perfectly romantic night, if it hadn’t been for Mina, the vampire, the toasted zombies, the electrocution, and the return of the old cultist leader spoiling it all.
36
I awoke to the incessant poking of the carriage driver jabbing at my shoulder. Jane was asleep also, curled up under my arm. I woke her and lowered her to the street, tipped the driver handsomely, and struggled off the carriage. As the sound of hooves faded off into the distance, Jane and I headed into the Lovecraft Café, drawing stares.
“Do I really look that bad?” I asked her.
“Your jacket is still smoking,” she said, “and yeah, you do kinda look like hell.”
We arrived at the door at the back of the theater that led to the offices, and I stopped. “Maybe you should go in first.”
“Why?” she asked.
“If I go in ahead of you and they see me first, they might think there’s a zombie infestation.”
Jane reached over and ruffled her fingers through my hair, which I only then realized was standing on end, full of static. “Smart boy,” she said.
She swiped her plastic keycard at the door and we entered the main bull pen of the Department. A few of my fellow agents eyed me with suspicion, but none of them got up to cave my skull in.
I turned to Jane and hugged her.
“You should go talk to Wesker. Tell him what’s going on, find out if he knows anything about this. Cyrus did collaborate with the Sectarians, so maybe Wesker’s heard something, even though he’s high on their artistic-torture list. I have to go deal with Connor.”
“Don’t let him punish you too bad,” she said. “That’s my job.” She winked.
Jane started off toward one of the doors that led off to Greater & Lesser Arcana Division.
“I’m holding you to that,” I called out after her, feeling the first bit of real hope I had felt in several days. After taking a moment to let it sink in, I headed back toward the set of desks I shared with Connor.
I expected him to still be pissed at me but when he looked up at my approach, his eyes widened like those of an anime character.
“Jesus, kid, what happened to you?” he said.
I explained what had gone on from the moment I had discovered Mina searching through the museum crates to Jane and me finally escaping. I did, however, leave out taking Godfrey with me. When I was done telling him almost everything, Connor seemed less concerned and shrugged.
“I guess that’s what you get,” he said, and turned to his phone. “I’ll call the Inspectre and get a containment team to secure the scene.”
I stared at him. “I’m sorry?”
“Did I stutter, kid?” he said, not looking back. “I said I guess that’s what you get.”
“I heard you, but what are you getting at?”
Connor turned back to me, slamming the phone down. “Answer me this,” he said. “A simple question: How did you know how to look beneath the Guggenheim?”
“What?”
“Well, you couldn’t have been just meandering the streets of Manhattan and gotten lucky. I’d like to know what clued you in so you knew to go straight to the Guggenheim?”
I paused as I thought how best to answer him. I really didn’t want to get Godfrey in trouble, and I certainly didn’t want to get myself in it either. Things were already strained enough.
“It was the map,” I said, fishing the crumpled and smoky piece of paper from the pocket inside my jacket. I pointed at the dots I had connected earlier with Godfrey’s help. “When I charted out the path from the massacre on the booze cruise to the death of Dr. Kolb, I simply followed the trajectory. It led straight in that direction, toward the Guge, and I guess I got lucky finding the door.”
“I see,” he said.
I peeled my jacket off, careful to avoid rubbing it against my burnt wrists, and put it over the back of my chair. It had finally stopped smoking. I lowered myself at a snail’s pace and tried to collect my thoughts, only to have them interrupted.
“So Godfrey Candella has nothing to do with this?” Connor said.
“Argh,” I moaned. “I told him not to tell you.”
“Yeah, well, he doesn’t do deception quite the way you do,” Connor said. “The second he left the art museum, he came back here and info-dumped it all on me.”
Once again, I felt trapped. “I would have found the place eventually without him,” I said in my defense. “He just sped up the process.”
“Do you have any idea how screwed you’ll be if any one of the Enchancellors finds out about you putting an archivist in the line of danger out in the field? On top of what you already did at MoMA with this mysterious Mina of yours? The whole point of having archivists is to keep them out of harm’s way so that our records don’t come into question.”
“You should have seen him,” I said. “He was so excited to be out in the field.”
“That may be, but this isn’t a free-for-all here, kid,” Connor said. “There are rules for a reason.”
“But as part of F.O.G.,” I said, “I work outside of—”
“Stop hiding behind the goddamned F.O.G. excuse,” he said. “Even if you are one of their chosen few, that doesn’t put everyone in this place at your disposal.”
Connor stood up and headed off toward the stairs.
“Where are you going?”
“To talk to Inspectre Quimbley
in person,” he said, and I felt my heart leap to my throat.
“Don’t.”
Connor looked back and sighed. “Don’t worry, kid. I’m not going to rat you out, although I should.”
“You’re not?”
“No,” Connor said. “There are bigger things on our plate than getting into a pissing contest with you over this. I mean, look at you . . . You’re burnt, your wrists are gross, and your hair . . . Well, I probably won’t be able to watch Edward Scissorhands ever again without thinking of you.”
