Spell Robbers

by Matthew J. Kirby

  Actuation Suppression Cell.

  He smiled to himself and whipped the plans out of the drawer. To hide them, he rolled them up tight and stuck them down his pant leg, then headed for the door. On his way there, one of the cabinets caught his eye. It had an actual label.

  AGENTS: PROSPECTIVE

  He wondered if Sasha would be in there, but only doubted for a moment whether he should look. He opened the drawer and flipped along the tabbed files to the L’s until he came to LAMBERT, SASHA. He pulled her file and opened it up.

  There was her picture, the same black hair, but instead of a blue streak, she had a red one. Beneath that he found her basic information: EYE COLOR. HEIGHT. WEIGHT. But many of the other lines had been left blank. No place of birth. No names of parents. Not even a date of birth. In the space marked DETACHMENT DATE, someone had written in: PENDING.

  Ben was stunned. According to this, Sasha had never been detached. She had lied to them. But why had the League left her attached? And why did she get so upset whenever Ben brought it up? She had nothing to be upset about. She could still go home.

  Ben heard footsteps out in the hallway, the guard returning. He shoved the file back in the drawer, leaped to the desk, and managed to kill the lamp just before the footsteps passed in front of the door.

  Several moments of silence passed before Ben opened the door, just a crack, and peered out. No one there, and no one coming that he could hear. He made sure the door was relocked, and then slipped out into the hallway. Minutes later, he was in bed.

  But thoughts of Sasha still kept him awake, and the next morning, he sought her out. He wanted to talk to her before Ronin returned and they left again.

  He found her eating breakfast in the dining room, and grabbed the seat next to her.

  “You weren’t ever detached,” he whispered.

  Her back stiffened. “What? How did you —?”

  “That’s not important. I just want to know why you lied to me. And if you’re not detached, why are you still here?”

  Sasha set her spoon down slowly, staring at it, like it might try to escape her hand. “Look. This really isn’t any of your business.”

  “I thought we were friends.” Ben had to clear his throat. “You know what this means to me.”

  “We are friends.” Sasha looked at him for several moments, and then leaned closer. “Of course we’re friends. I’m sorry, it’s not that I ever meant to lie to you…. Look, there are other kinds of detachment, okay? It doesn’t have to be quantum to be real.”

  “What do you mean? Other kinds, like what?”

  “Like —”

  “Ready, kid?” Ronin walked into the room, flanked by Agent Spear and Agent Taggart.

  Sasha leaned back and looked away as Ronin took a seat next to Ben, across from her.

  “I’ve already eaten,” Ronin said. “The food is better than I remember. But still not great. You want something before we go?”

  Ben shook his head.

  Sasha gave him a darting smile and rose from her chair. “Be safe, okay? We’ll talk more when you get back.” She left the room.

  Ben looked at Agent Spear. “Have you seen Peter?”

  “Not this morning,” Agent Spear said.

  “Do I have time to go find him and say good-bye?” Ben asked.

  “I’m afraid not,” Agent Taggart said. “Mr. Weathersky wants you both back with Poole as soon as possible.”

  Ben nodded.

  Agent Spear put an envelope on the table. “There you go. Mr. Weathersky signed it this morning.”

  Ronin looked down. “What’s this?”

  “False orders for a League raid,” Agent Taggart said. “Something to build Poole’s confidence in Ben.”

  Ronin nodded and stood. “Perfect. Let’s go, kid. I don’t like being here any longer than I have to be.” He looked at Agent Spear and Agent Taggart. “Some offense intended.”

  Ben picked up the envelope. “Did Mr. Weathersky say anything else?”

  “Good luck,” Agent Spear said. “And good work. That goes for me, too, son.”

  “Thanks,” Ben said.

  He followed Ronin out back to his car, and they drove away without any of the send-off they’d been given the last time. Ben left the League headquarters feeling like he’d disappointed and hurt the people there he cared about.

  “You okay?” Ronin asked.

  “Yeah,” Ben said. He reached down his pants.

  “Whoa,” Ronin said. “What are you —?”

  Ben pulled out the rolled-up plans. “Here. The actuation suppression cell.”

  “You did it?” Ronin took the plans, tapped the dash with them, and then tossed them into the backseat. “I’m impressed, kid.”

  Ben opened up the envelope and read the raid order. It was perfect. “We just have to change the date on this, and we’re all set.”

  Ronin drove them to a twenty-four-hour copy center. They bought some time on a computer and scanned in the raid order. From there, it was a pretty simple thing to erase the old date, and put in a new one, two days away. Then they erased Mr. Weathersky’s signature, and printed a brand-new raid order.

  “You’re up, kid,” Ronin said.

  Ben took the original order, with the signature, and laid it side by side with the new order. He’d done the same thing with his mom’s signature, but that had also taken a lot of practice. He grabbed a pen and some scratch paper. He filled up two sheets before he thought it looked passable. Ronin agreed, so Ben tried on the new order.

  He sat back, eyes jumping back and forth between the real signature and his forgery. It looked good.

  “I think you got it on the first try,” Ronin said.

  “Yeah?”

  “Looks good to me. Let’s go with it.”

  They shredded everything but the new order, and got back in the car. Ronin drove them out to Mercer Beach the same way Poole had brought them. In the daylight, the abandoned neighborhoods and strip malls around the refinery looked even worse.

  “Which house are we going to use?” Ben asked.

  “Not sure yet,” Ronin said. “But the plan is the same. Poole will bring Hughes in a convoy right through here. Argus will give us some cover. Lykos and Meg will create a distraction with Polly, while you and I strike from the inside and get Hughes and the augmenter out of there.”

  “Right.”

  “After I drop you off, I’m going to meet up with the rest of the crew to finalize details of the ambush.”

  “You’re not coming with me?”

  “No.”

  Ben ran his thumb along the edge of the envelope. He didn’t like the thought of going back to Poole alone.

  “You’ll be all right, kid. The time to worry about a paranoid man is when you confront his fears, not when you confirm them. Just remember why you’re doing this.”

  Ben didn’t need to remember. His reasons clung to the back of everything he had done so far, and everything he was about to do. He stayed silent for the rest of the ride, and Ronin dropped him off at the edge of the parking lot.

  Ben walked across the wide expanse of broken pavement. Flaking paint still hung on in places where the parking stalls had been, but weeds and grass now worked to claim them. A breeze ripe with refinery stench wrinkled his nose. It took several minutes for Ben to reach the amusement park’s entrance. As he approached, a couple of Dread Cloaks appeared from inside the old ticket booths.

  Time to fake it. He went for demanding. “I’m Ben, the League recruit. Where’s Poole?”

  That seemed to catch the men off guard. They hesitated, and Ben forced his way into the gap.

  “Never mind, I know where his office is.” He strode right between them. They didn’t try to stop him.

  Ben entered Mercer Beach and saw it for the first time in daylight, and from the front. Even if it hadn’t been run-down, Ben could see the place was old. The style of the buildings, the decorations, the paint jobs. It looked like it belonged in the kind of movie
s his mom watched, where the actors wore white pants and bow ties and regularly broke into big song-and-dance numbers.

  He plodded down an old boardwalk, the wood planks splitting and loose at the ends. It followed the edge of a wide promenade, and to his right, another boardwalk ran parallel along the far side. Between them, the dirt was as hard-packed as cement, and rusted gates and fences marked the empty places where rides used to be. To his left, a succession of booths, stripped of everything but the paint, still advertised games, cotton candy, popcorn, and corn dogs.

  He passed a few buildings, and wondered if Poole had Dr. Hughes in one of them. The House of Mirrors? The Hall of Curiosities and Wonders? Then he came to the carousel, with its candy-cane paint and silent, stampeding horses in every possible color. He could almost hear the strains of the frantic organ music coming out of it, the screams and laughter as it spun around.

  A boot scuffed behind him. Ben turned to see about a dozen Dread Cloaks spread out between the boardwalks. They stood back a short distance, just following him, watching him.

  He moved on, trying to keep his pace steady. Ahead of him rose the arena, and the Ferris wheel towered high above that. When he reached Poole’s building, several Dread Cloaks met him at the front entrance.

  Ben aimed for the space between them. “I need to see Poole.”

  But they put out their arms and blocked his way.

  “Hold still,” one of them said. It was the redhead from Poole’s office.

  “What’s going —?”

  One of the other Dread Cloaks came up and grabbed Ben from behind.

  The redhead smirked. “We gotta search you. Nobody sees Poole without getting searched first.”

  Ben ran down everything he had on him, and didn’t think there would be a problem. “Fine.”

  The Dread Cloak’s eyes narrowed. “I’m Riggs. You don’t recognize me. I was wearing a mask. But you almost did me in with a bolt of lightning.”

  So that’s it. This was the guy Ben had knocked out during the attack on the lab. That explained why he’d been so hostile. Ben was a bit more worried now.

  Riggs felt up and down his arms and legs, around his torso. “Pockets.”

  Ben reached in, pulled out the two things he carried. The raid order, and his Locus. Riggs took both, and looked at the envelope first.

  “That’s what Poole is expecting right now,” Ben said.

  “And this?” Riggs rolled the Locus around in his hand.

  “That’s nothing,” Ben said. He didn’t think it would be a good idea to let on what that piece of stone meant to him.

  “Kinda weird, carrying around a fossil.”

  “I’m weird,” Ben said, but his voice sounded stiff.

  Riggs looked into Ben’s eyes, then at the stone. “You think I don’t know a Locus when I see one?”

  “Give it back,” Ben said.

  Riggs handed him the envelope. “Poole will see you now.”

  Ben needed his Locus. The job depended on him actuating with the crew. He started trembling, but kept it out of his voice. “Give me the stone.”

  Riggs took a step backward. “You Class One or Class Two with this?”

  Ben didn’t answer.

  Riggs shouted. “Class One or Class Two?”

  Ben clenched his jaw. “Class Two.”

  Riggs nodded. Then he set the Locus on the ground.

  What was he doing?

  The Dread Cloak holding Ben tightened his grip as Riggs stuck out one of his hands and flexed his fingers. Ben felt an actuation stirring.

  “No!” Ben fought to break free. “Don’t —”

  Riggs flicked his hand. Ben’s Locus shot off the ground, straight at the arena, where it shattered against the wall, leaving a little impact crater behind. Ben almost cried out. The Dread Cloak behind him let him go.

  “What Class are you now?” Riggs asked.

  Ben just stared at him.

  “Go on in.” He and the other Dread Cloaks stepped aside. “Poole’s waiting.”

  BEN sat before Poole in one of the armchairs, completely powerless. They were up in Poole’s office above the arena, and Poole leaned forward on his desk, looking down at the raid order resting between his hands. Ben focused on staying calm and hoped Ronin was right about paranoid men, because without his Locus, he was just an Ennay. An Imp. If Poole turned on him, Ben was defenseless.

  “How did you come by this?” Poole asked.

  “I told you,” Ben said. “I’m a prodigy. The League trusts me. It wasn’t hard to steal.”

  Poole sat down. “This is Weathersky’s signature.”

  Ben nodded. “He’s in town to personally oversee the operation.”

  “This is two days away.”

  “That’s right.”

  “You told me a week.”

  “Weathersky moved it up.” So far, they were on script, Locus or not. “They’re worried about Dr. Hughes and the portable augmenter.”

  Poole snapped a glare at Ben. “I know you’ve put it together, you and Ronin. You know why I’m out here, hiding like a rat.”

  “And we figure the augmenter’s probably out here, too.” Ben shrugged. “So?”

  “So?” Poole took the raid order and folded it into precise thirds, creasing it with his thumbnail against the desk. “Do you expect me to believe you have no interest in it?”

  “I’ve used it. I don’t see the big deal. You can probably do more damage to the League with it than I could.”

  “I doubt Ronin thinks the same way you do.”

  Ben chuckled. “Ronin doesn’t even think it works. He says portable augmentation is impossible, and you’re a desperate man clinging to your last hope.”

  Poole’s eyebrows lifted. “Ronin said that, did he?”

  Ben nodded.

  “Where is Ronin now?”

  “I don’t know,” Ben said. “I told you, I was never his man.”

  Poole slipped the raid order into a pocket inside his vest. He sat back, closed his eyes, and rubbed the tip of his index finger back and forth across his forehead. “Two days.”

  “Can’t you make a stand here?” Ben asked. “Just use the augmenter.”

  Poole shook his head. “That worthless Imp hasn’t got it working yet. I’ve tried it. Many times.”

  “What if you just pull all the Dread Cloaks out here from the city? Build up an army.”

  “I dare not trust any of them. The upstart might use the opportunity to send in spies and saboteurs.” He suddenly slammed the desk with his fist, and Ben flinched. “Two days! That’s not enough time!”

  “I’m sure you —”

  He jumped to his feet. “This was supposed to be my hour of victory! My defeat of the League!”

  “You can still —”

  “Shut up, you whelp! You cur! You know-nothing!”

  Ben snapped his mouth closed. He realized he had started to confront Poole’s fears by reassuring him. He needed to switch tactics, play it how Ronin had said to work a paranoid man. Confirm Poole’s fears.

  “Look,” Ben said. “The League is coming for you. Here. And they’re coming hard. They’re not taking any chances with the augmenter.”

  “Then we need to make sure it isn’t here for them to find, don’t we?”

  “You’re going to move it?”

  “Yes. If I start making the arrangements now, we can do it tomorrow night.” He pulled out his phone.

  “What do you want me to do?” Ben asked.

  “You?” Poole started dialing. “You’re going to sit right there. No devilish tricks. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  So far, things had all gone the way Ronin and his crew had planned. Except for one thing. Riggs had destroyed Ben’s Locus, and he didn’t know what that would mean for the ambush tomorrow night.

  Poole meant what he said. The rest of that day, Ben sat in his office as the gang lord organized the transfer. First, Poole had to pick a new location, so he made calls. Dread Cloaks came and
went, and Poole waited. By that afternoon, Poole had chosen a place, but then he had to double- and triple-check it. Ben tried to listen in and figure out where it was, but couldn’t get anything specific.

  The next phase, Poole called in specific Dread Cloaks by name, the ones Ben guessed he still trusted. Poole sent them ahead to secure the location. Then it was more waiting. Ben paced around the office, and looked through the windows down at the stage. He even tried some of the buttons and switches on the control panel to see what they did.

  “Don’t touch that,” Poole said.

  By evening, Ben was more bored than nervous. Apparently, being paranoid took a lot of work and energy. Would Poole keep at it through the whole night?

  Ben grew hungry. Tired. It was getting late. He had slumped down pretty far in the armchair, his eyelids heavy, when there was yet another knock at the office door.

  “Ah, supper.” Poole accepted a pizza box from one of his Dread Cloaks. He handed it to Ben. “This is the favorite food of every child in the country, is it not?”

  Ben sat up. “Sure. I guess.”

  The pizza was a little cold, but Ben didn’t care. He ate slice after slice, more than half the pie. Then, with a full stomach, he slumped back into the armchair and closed his eyes.

  He woke to Poole’s voice. Ben bolted upright, a massive kink in his neck. It was morning.

  “Yes!” Poole said into his phone. “Three vehicles. We can’t attract too much attention. But I want every man capable of Class Two actuations. No exceptions.” His sunken eyes looked even darker around the edges than usual. Ben guessed he hadn’t slept at all. “And find Ronin!” He hung up the phone and glanced at Ben. “Ah, you’re awake. Are you hungry for breakfast?”