by Drew Hayes
“You sure you don’t want me to tag along? There’s bound to be some precedence we can use. I bet Arch will be able to think of something,” Krystal offered.
Tempting as it was, I shook my head to the negative. “The grand mage requested a closed meeting, just me and Amy. This isn’t Agency business; I don’t have a good reason to bring an agent along for backup. Trust me, if I could think of a way to take you with me without starting us off on a bad foot, I’d use it in a heartbeat.”
Krystal grinned, a touch of mischief in her smile. “I do make a great diplomacy asset. Like a hammer you can bust out and smash through a table.”
“There is that, yes, but mostly I’d just like the opportunity to spend some time together. It feels like we’ve both been doing nothing but traveling over the past few weeks.” To be fair, that had somewhat always been the case. It was in the nature of Krystal’s job as an agent—she went where the trouble was. Only now, between taking on Agency work, coping with being down an assistant, and pitching in to help Richard with the carnival whenever I could, my own hours were at a premium as well. I’d been hoping to schedule a break over the weekend; however, it seemed that life had other plans.
Slowly, Krystal made her way around the bed and draped her arms over my shoulders. “I’ve missed you, too. Maybe once you wrap this up, I’ll put in for some vacation time. If you work ahead and let Lillian handle the little stuff, I bet you could swing a long weekend. We could head down to Boarback, have a nice trip exploring the town, away from all the craziness.”
“Personally, I wouldn’t say no to a wine-tasting tour in Napa, or maybe a nice ski-cottage, but the details are up to you. All that matters to me is that we make some time for one another.” I kissed her—not to drive the point home, but because she was nearby and I loved her. It had taken a lot of strange events in my life, up to and including a slight death, but I’d finally reached a point where I was comfortable in a relationship with someone. That wasn’t something I planned to let slip away by taking it for granted.
“I’ll put out some feelers to see what kind of dates I can get,” Krystal said. “In the meantime, you need to finish packing. I bet there’s a portable generator or set of drill bits you can still fit in your suitcase. Never know when you’ll need those.”
A crisp knock on the bedroom door dispelled our romantic mood. “Come in,” I yelled. The door didn’t open; however, Charlotte was standing in front of us a moment later, appearing in her usual form. It had taken a few tries and one powerpoint presentation, but she’d finally understood that, even if we knew she could see everything that happened within her walls, it was still easier for us all if she knocked before appearing in a room. It was a small illusion done for the sake of formality, yet it made a big difference in overall comfort. If we could delude ourselves into thinking we had privacy, that was enough.
“Fred, you requested notification when Amy had returned. She has arrived in the parking lot. At least, I assume the long golden Humvee limousine is hers. I’d have told you sooner, but I needed to look up what sort of vehicle it was online. Humans have taken their transportation in . . . curious directions.”
It wasn’t what I’d expected Amy to arrive in, but as a rule, I tried never to expect anything with Amy. She was a little too out there. Whatever I tried to predict was invariably wrong, so instead, I just resigned myself to always being surprised. Even with that attitude, my dismay over the vehicle in question must have shown on my face.
“Word to the wise, Freddy: Amy is a little more down-to-earth than most mages. You should be braced for more ostentatiousness than I think you’re expecting.” Krystal patted me, half with love and half with amusement, on the back. “A big-ass limo is not going to be the weirdest thing you see.”
“So long as it has a driver and avoids the sun, I’ll be fine,” I assured her. “Amy is part of my parahuman clan. I’ll be sure to represent her well.”
“Just be you,” Krystal told me. “Or a version of you that’s thirty percent less skittish. And whatever happens, roll with it. Spell-casters love keeping normal folk off-balance. Don’t try to question things too deeply. Accept the reality you have to work with, and power through.”
“The more you talk, the more I regret not finding a way to bring you along.” I finished packing my suitcase and zipped it up, hefting it off the bed easily. “Charlotte, you were constructed by mages. Is there any advice you’d like to offer?”
She hesitated, as she always did when discussion of her previous tenants surfaced. If I’d been less hurried and more considerate, I would have realized the question might be too personal. Just as I was about to apologize and retract the inquiry, however, Charlotte answered.
“Mages are humans at their core. Humans whose bodies are altered by constant exposure to magic, and who age at a decelerated rate, but still humans. They enjoy and indulge in the culture of other humans, but because of their dedication to the craft and their unique relationship with time, it’s not uncommon for a higher-ranked mage to get . . . stuck, for lack of a better term, during whatever culture was predominant the last time they dealt with normal humans. Case in point: of my builders, one favored fashions from the revolutionary war, one enjoyed Victorian sensibilities, and one embraced the simple rustic look of farmers. So if you meet people who seem a bit out of place, as Krystal already encouraged you, just roll with it. And keep in mind that a mage’s power is not like a vampire’s bite: it is transferred through knowledge and practice, not a simple swapping of blood. Every mage you meet is capable and dangerous, if they wish to be.”
Part of me really wanted to ask about the clothing thing; just how long did mages live past normal human lives? Unfortunately, time wasn’t on my side, and I already felt like I’d pried deeper than was respectful into Charlotte’s past. I nodded my head in thanks, gave Krystal a quick peck as a goodbye, and headed down the stairs with my suitcase in hand.
Sure enough, waiting out in the parking lot was a huge, golden Humvee limo. I could smell the exhaust before the front door was even open, and as I darted across the parking lot, I wondered how much of the tank had been burned off simply waiting for me to finish packing. Making my way to the back, I pulled open the door to find Amy already seated, her normally brown hair glowing a soft cerulean and a glass of champagne, clearly poured from the included bar, in her hand. She offered it to me as I took a seat, though I declined.
“Before you say anything, this wasn’t my idea.” Amy took a long drink from the glass I’d refused, quickly finished it off, and poured herself another. “Cyndi promised to handle transportation, since she was calling the meeting, and this is what showed up. I think she might want to impress you.”
“It is quite the overt display of—hang on, did you say the grand mage I’m meeting is named Cyndi?” Of all the things to get hung up on, I’ll admit it was an odd one, but that was what leapt out at me in the moment. “Sorry, I suppose I expected something grander, like Merlin or Gandalf—”
“Or Amy? Or Neil?” She chuckled under her breath as she took another drink of champagne. “We start off as humans, remember. A few take new names when they get to new ranks, but it’s a lot of pain in the ass for very little gain. Get that hokey D&D shit out of your head, otherwise you’re going to be in for a really tiring trip.”
“Speaking of Neil, where is your apprentice tonight?” I asked. Neil was, technically, a part of my clan as well, so if this concerned Amy, it stood to reason he might need to be present.
“As far from this shit as I can keep him.” Amy’s relaxed expression hardened for a brief moment before fading away in the calming glow of her hair. “Dealing with the kinds of mages who care about status and rank is the sort of thing he needs to be ready for. For as long as I can swing it, he stays away from the politics of this job.”
I settled in, placing my suitcase to my side and buckling my seatbelt as the massive vehicle lurched into motion. “Interesting. I never expected mages to
have much in the way of politics.”
With a grim stare, Amy grabbed the champagne bottle and topped her glass off once more. “Then you’d better brace for a lot of surprises, Fred. Otherwise, we’ll both end up floating on shit creek.”
2.
Our drive was a surprisingly brief one. The limo got onto the highway for approximately forty-five minutes—enough time for me to mentally go through nine scenarios in which I said the wrong thing and got us all killed—before turning off on an exit that led to a small farm-road. Twenty more minutes of driving through trees and dirt roads, some of which I was legitimately certain would be too tough for the limo to navigate, eventually led us to a faded red barn in the middle of a field. The doors unlocked as we arrived, and Amy immediately began to exit, so I followed her lead. As I grabbed my suitcase, I tried very hard not to dwell on the fact that this was exactly the sort of place where it would be easy to kill us and destroy our bodies.
The unseen driver kept the lights of our limo on as we disembarked, making sure the barn’s front doors were well illuminated. Hardly a subtle hint, but at least we didn’t have to waste time guessing where we’d be headed. Amy took the lead; her small backpack (that I knew held more than it appeared to) was tossed over her shoulder as she trekked through the field without hesitation. It was a strange sight, and not just because we were in the backend of nowhere during the middle of the night. Among the huge bodies and personalities of our friends, Amy often tended to slide into the background. She seemed happy there—part of the action, yet away from its center, around the warm glow of friends without always needing to be engaged. However, that didn’t mean Amy wasn’t a brilliant, capable person in her own right. I’d heard many a time from different sources how highly regarded her work was considered, and as I watched her plow ahead to the mysterious barn without so much as losing a step, I could see the sort of steadfast determination that might account for such a reputation.
The door opened before Amy arrived, albeit only by a few seconds. It slid itself ajar, revealing an empty barn, which I should have expected, yet which still caught me off guard. Amy wasn’t put off in the slightest. She kept right on walking, passing the forgotten hay bales and empty pens, keeping on track for a door near the back of the barn. I missed it the first time I scanned the room; in fact, even when Amy stepped right next to it, I had to squint and focus to notice the cream-colored door. Unlike the rest of this place, it was clearly new, with golden symbols painted all along the edges and around the knob. Amy paused for the first time since leaving the limo, looking over her shoulder to me.
“I’m pretty sure you’ve already figured this out, but the door isn’t just going to lead us out of the barn. I don’t know where we’re going, mind you; only that it won’t be here. Cyndi can be a bit distrustful at times, so she tends to prepare all her meetings in secure locations. Anchoring doorways at meeting points is the easiest way to get people there without having them know where they’re going.”
“Hang on. So we’re going to teleport?” You’d think after being stuck outside time this wouldn’t have seemed like so big of deal, but it was still something I’d yet to encounter. Even Krystal and Arch took planes to get around, so if teleportation existed, I’d assumed the Agency would use it.
“Technically, no. It’s more like space has been folded over on itself inside the small span of this door. We’re going to step over all the space between and arrive at the destination instantly. Very different from pure teleportation, and please don’t ask me to explain it in more detail than that. The whole thing is highly theoretical. Doing the spell requires an expertise in conjuration, and setting it in a door is only an option for those with a subspecialty in enchanting. Spatial rearrangement is a talent of Cyndi’s though, so you don’t need to worry about anything going wrong in transport.”
I actually hadn’t even considered the idea until Amy mentioned it. I’d just been wrapping my head around the idea of teleportation; it hadn’t yet occurred to me that the fact the spell existed didn’t mean it would necessarily go perfectly. I’d seen the trial-and-error nature of magic firsthand during my friendship with Amy, and none of that had involved hurling people across rifts in space. Suddenly, I could understand why the Agency might prefer to stick with planes.
Given enough time, I’d have worked myself into quite a panic, which was perhaps why Amy didn’t give me the chance. She pulled open the door, revealing a white hallway, and stepped through. I followed quickly, afraid that without her around, I might never find the door again after it closed. My movements were so quick that before I even noticed, I’d passed through the doorway. It was completely painless, not so much as even a tingle or a buzz in the ears as I literally stepped across unknown space to arrive at my new destination.
It was sunny. I noticed that right away, my survival instincts kicking into full gear as I held up the suitcase to try and shield myself from the glowing rays. After a few seconds of hiding, I noticed that the bits of me that had touched the light were neither cooked nor smoking, so I lowered my bag to take a better look. All of the sunlight was coming through glass, and I could make out a few runes engraved on every pane. Enchanted glass to keep the sunlight from hurting vampires, clearly, though this was a step above what I’d seen before. Generally, the stuff always came with at least some amount of tinting, but these panes were so clear it was like I was looking at the sky. I stood there, numb to the rest of my surroundings, as I looked up at the sun. How long had it been since I saw it like this? My eyes watered, perhaps from the bright light, more likely from sentiment, though I wiped them and remembered myself before I lost all sense of composure. I’d come to do a job, and I couldn’t afford distractions, no matter how beautiful they were.
When I’d first looked through the door—a door I turned around and realized was no long present—I’d taken the white hallway to look sterile. And compared to a filthy, abandoned night barn, it had seemed that way. But these weren’t the white halls of a hospital or government building. No, these were white because they were meant to glow in the sun which came in from all angles, lighting the room and the beautiful turquoise water only steps away. We were at a beach house—a spacious and modern one at that. Had they always used a glass that was vampire friendly, or was it retrofitted just for this meeting? It was a strong message, if they’d done it intentionally. An olive branch to give me something I’d thought forever lost, but also a threat to remind me how vulnerable I was here.
Following the hallway, I turned to find myself in a vast, stainless steel kitchen. In all my excitement about the sunshine coming in from the ceiling, I hadn’t noticed the music playing in the background, but now that I’d made the turn, it was impossible to ignore. While the tune was one I couldn’t quite place, the amount of synthesizer and general style made it abundantly obvious that this was music from the eighties. For a second, I wondered if I’d somehow jumped through time as well as space when I caught sight of the woman standing in the kitchen, dancing and cooking eggs even as she greeted Amy.
She wore her light hair in a simple braid which fell halfway down the back of her denim vest atop a garishly bright shirt, a combination that went surprisingly well with the choice of brightly colored tights and leg warmers for her bottom half. At first, I hadn’t really grasped what Charlotte meant when she said mages sometimes got stuck in moments of culture, but as I stared at this woman who looked for all intents and purposes like she’d stepped out of a portal in time, it clicked nicely.
“Grand Mage Cyndi Gussoff?”
The woman winced at my voice, twirling around in time with the beat and waving a spatula at me. “No need for titles, Mr. Fletcher. We’re at my home; you can just call me Cyndi. Also, how do you like your eggs?”
“Over-easy,” I replied, trying for all I was worth to look unbothered by the curious greeting. Krystal and Charlotte had both said to roll with it, so I was doing my damndest to roll like the best of them. “And if we’re eschewing titles
, please call me Fred.”
A curious, cheerful gaze greeted my request. “Interesting. You know, you’re the first vampire I’ve ever dealt with who didn’t fight me on ignoring titles. Not to mention took me up on the eggs. Usually you folks are stuffier, and strict about sticking to blood.”
“I’m still a relatively new vampire, all things considered. I was only turned a few years ago. Perhaps the stuffiness comes with age.” I walked over and took a seat next to Amy, who had grabbed a bar stool at the kitchen’s counter and hunkered down. “As for food . . . well, I spent most of my life human. Blood is delectable, but there many other flavors to enjoy.”
“Why am I not surprised that Amy managed to find the only fun vampire out there?” Cyndi cracked two more eggs into a fresh pan—one I wasn’t sure had been on the stove moments prior—and let them cook.
“To be fair, I’m the least fun member of my clan. If I’d brought along Lillian, you’d have seen a vampire with far more appetite for life than I have.”
Cyndi poked the eggs gently with her spatula. “Appetite is never the issue I run into with vampires; you’ve all got plenty of that. But most of the time, it’s for the life that’s flowing through our veins. That’s why I was a bit concerned when one of our top earners suddenly lined herself up with a gentleman of your . . . persuasion. Amy is an up-and-comer in the magical world, you know. We’ve all got a lot of hope for what she’ll accomplish one day. So you’ll forgive me for wanting to meet this vampire of hers in person, just to make sure everything is on the up-and-up. You wouldn’t be the first to blackmail or trap a mage and turn them into a living meal.”
It was a fair concern, and one I’d been braced for. The vampire stereotypes were dangerous and well-earned. Even having only met a few, I could understand her worry. “Let me assure you, Gran—er, Cyndi, that I would never hurt Amy, or any of my clan members in such a manner. We are friends, first and foremost, and treat one another with the respect entailed in such a relationship.”
