Other than that, everything was going to plan.
Topher loosened his tie as he looked down on the corpse of his former guard with a sense of disappointment. Roger’s throat had been ripped out, and his desiccated corpse suggested that he’d been drained of his blood. Topher had held high hopes for Roger. The man had worked in security all of his life and served in the army. However, apparently, no man could withstand the wrath of the creatures that stalked Clay.
With an irritated sigh, Topher pulled out his phone to let his wife know he’d be caught up for a while. The next call was to his clean-up man. After that, he would find his brother.
It was unlikely that Topher would get any kind of real answer about what had happened. Most of what came out of his brother’s mouth sounded like the psychotic ramblings of Lovecraft junkie. And that was on a good day, not on a day when one of the things he’d seen actually killed someone.
Oh well, Topher could hire another guard. They had just finished training with a group who had tolerated the magic-induced strength boosters. Perhaps one of them could manage to stay alive long enough to protect his brother from himself.
“I want this taken care of before I’m back in the air,” Topher said as he walked down the hallway. He put his phone away confident that it would be done. At least some of his employees knew how to take care of business.
Clay couldn’t be too far. He was normally so addled that spiriting off in his wheelchair was beyond his faculties. It was, honestly, the reason Topher hadn’t upgraded his chair. It wouldn’t have been a dip in Topher’s savings to have Clay seated in the latest model of motorized chair, but not being able to keep tabs on his brother could cost him literally everything.
As he ducked from room to room, calling his brother’s name, Topher wondered if he hadn’t let himself get too wrapped up in his work lately. Clay had seemed to be struggling, more than usual, since Topher had introduced his brother to that egg. At first, Topher had thought perhaps Clay was just upset, having experienced what it was like to be a person for a moment, before having it ripped away again. Now, even with Roger’s reports on Clay’s behavior (sneaking away, making creepy, veiled warnings), Topher couldn’t really determine the problem.
“Oof!”
Topher tripped in the hallway, nearly diving face first into the carpet. He steadied himself, then looked back. It was Clay’s chair, turned on the side. A surge of anxiety flooded Topher’s chest. He bent over and touched the wheel with his fingertips, rolling it back and forth.
“Keep an eye on your little brother! He can’t swim yet!” his mother called.
Topher didn’t look up from his Gameboy Color. It sucked that he had to spend his vacation out in the middle of nowhere, babysitting a dumb six-year-old. He growled and turned his Gameboy to the side, trying to will the colored blocks to fit into the right slot.
“Toph! Look at the lights!” Clay squealed.
“Stay close to shore!” Topher yelled back. Then, he resumed humming along to the clunky music theme of his game. He liked the original music better, but it was cool to be able to match colors as well as the shape of each block as it floated down from the top.
Clay’s next squeal didn’t sound joyful. It was pure terror. Topher looked up to see Clay at the end of the dock, held aloft by… something. Bright and shining so intensely that Topher had to cover his eyes. It was like Clay was flying.
And then, just as Topher had gathered his wits enough to make for the dock, the shining figure laughed, a tinkling bell of a laugh, and pulled Clay under the water.
“Clay?” Topher hurried down the hallway. His negligence as a selfish teenager had led to most of his brother’s misery. He could’ve never stopped that thing at the lake. Hell, he still didn’t know what it had been.
But when they’d dragged Clay up, his skin tinged blue and his cheeks covered in sparkles, Topher had never thought the boy would breathe again. When he came to, he just wasn’t the same. No longer the lively, loving child his parents knew, but distant, quiet, and prone to terror. His color had been drained from him almost completely. He screamed more than he smiled.
All at once, Topher realized where his brother would go. He might have scolded Roger for not giving him enough information to know this from the beginning. Clay would go to the egg.
Picking up the pace, Topher bolted down the hallway to the room where the egg was locked. After all of Clay’s warnings to Topher not to touch the thing, why in the world would he go and seek it out himself?
Sure enough, the vault door was ajar. Clay had figured the code, somehow. In that uncanny way of his. Topher stepped inside and felt the air leave his lungs.
Clay sat on the ground next to the egg, his hands held up with the fingers splayed apart oddly, as though each were holding a cup of something. His green eyes were half-lidded, but bright with an inner burning. His hair, whiter than ever, lifted off of his head lightly, as if a wind had come sweeping through and lingered.
The egg itself, remained on its pedestal, but its glow had turned into a flood of light, and that light was connected to Clay.
“Get away from that!” Topher rushed over and hooked his arms underneath Clay’s to drag him away from the egg.
The light dimmed, and Clay’s eyes popped open.
“No, let me help him!” Clay’s head fell back to look at Topher.
“Oh, come on, you idiot,” Topher grunted. He tugged harder, forcibly wresting him from the room as Clay struggled. Once they were out, Topher slammed the door. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“He called me. Keeping them isolated like that. They will die. He would’ve died soon, if I hadn’t intervened,” Clay said in a tone almost scolding.
Topher blinked down at his brother. He hadn’t sounded that lucid in… God, Topher couldn’t even remember.
“But the magic is toxic to us, isn’t it? You can’t use it, untreated.”
“No. You can’t…” Clay stared back at the vault door, as though looking through it.
Maybe he could see through it. Who knew what Clay could see, with those magic-touched eyes of his?
Topher had Clay settled in a different room from the one Roger’s body had been found in. Topher wasn’t sure if Clay knew what had happened to Roger, but his brother didn’t ask after the guard. That probably meant that he had either seen or suspected something was about to happen.
Or he was preoccupied with the egg. Topher had caught his brother staring in what would’ve been the direction of the vault multiple times as he tried to get his brother to talk. Eventually, Topher turned on the television in that room for Clay and rose to leave as the man stared intently at the wall and muttered about feeding energy to the child and not letting it go hungry.
“He’s all alone,” Clay muttered as Topher was just on the other side of the door.
With a stab of guilt, Topher turned back to Clay. “I’m just going to a meeting. I’ll get someone in here soon.”
Clay closed his eyes tight, shaking his head. “It’s a child, Toph. They can’t be left all alone.”
Topher raised his brows and returned, pulling his chair closer to Clay’s bed. “What do you mean?”
“That young, at least, they are weaker when they are isolated. He’ll die if you leave him on his own.”
That made sense. It would explain why, even when the eggs they’d sold for their initial start-up funds kept “breaking” as it were. People kept complaining that their expensive gems stopped glowing. When they brought them back, the eggs still had a bit of life in them, and Desmond’s crew could harvest what was left, but it wasn’t idea. The alters preserved them for a time, projected their magic to provide a small field of protection to a household, but it wasn’t the long-term defense that Topher had hoped for.
“How can we stop that?”
“Let me see him.”
Topher shook his head. “Not now. You’re drained. I won’t let him hurt you.”
“He will die, if we neglect him.”
Topher thinned his lips. He didn’t want to say that he didn’t care… But really, if it came between some animal dying, and Clay’s health, the choice wasn’t even slightly difficult.
“I might arrange a few ‘play-dates.’ How is that? A few times a week. But if you start getting sick at all, we’re going to have to reconsider.”
“That might do it. But you should move him to a more central location in the house, too,” Clay insisted.
“And have all of my staff getting sick?”
Clay rolled his eyes. “Only if they’re dumb enough to touch it.”
“I suppose I could tell them a touch will cost them their lives.” Topher smoothed the front of his pant legs. “I’ll consider it. You get some rest?”
Clay was starting to look unfocused again. He lay back on his pillows, spent and washed out as ever. His whole life, he’d struggled to exist in the world. It seemed like being close to something as out of place as he was did some good, but Topher wasn’t about to risk their tentative luck at this venture.
He had his priorities. And as he always emphasized in his speeches, they were security, economy, and family.
“Don’t…” Clay murmured. His breaths were shallow. When he turned his eyes on Topher again, his washed out green eyes seemed surprisingly fever-bright. Topher had checked him for symptoms of magical infection, but none had appeared yet. Still, there was something off about his brother. Or more off than usual.
“Don’t what, Clay?”
“Don’t sell your soul cheaply.” Clay’s thin lips cut a bitter sideways grin across his face. “Get everything you can for it.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ve been in politics for a long time, kiddo. I know that. Get some rest.” Topher left his brother there to his daydreams and monsters.
Before heading off to his meeting, Topher went into a central room in the house. This room was protected with a code, as well, but once the code had been entered, the pad underneath activated, waiting for physical confirmation.
Of course, it wasn’t just Topher’s hand that it needed, but his magic. He pressed his palm against the pad and closed his eyes, summoning a small spark of energy.
The door opened. He stepped inside a small, circular room. Its walls, tiled in labradorite and agate stones, had been carved with complex runes that Topher had found from magic users the world over. Unfortunately, human magic users were weak, comparatively. It had taken Topher years to summon even the slightest bit of power, and when he’d managed to discover other magic users, it became clear that for the vast majority of humans, magic of the variety that had touched Clay was not possible.
Topher opened the top of the alter in this room, inside was a crystal that held harvested magic from whatever sources he had been able to find. So far, the dragon magic was the most potent and long lasting. He held out both hands and focused, checking the alignments of their magical defenses.
It wasn’t possible for magical creatures to enter his homes. And that was how he preferred it. Basic protection, guiding of energies. That was all humans were really capable of. Get a thousand witches and warlocks together, and they could still only guide positive and negative energies to effect change. Maybe there had been stronger users in the past. There had been some promising myths in Native American lore, but Topher had found that, first of all, their descendants didn’t want to talk to him, and second, so many of them had been killed off that their magics might not exist in the same way they once had.
So he needed the boost. If something inhuman had touched Clay, if inhuman creatures were the ones that threatened them, he needed a truly inhuman power source for his defenses.
Even after a simple alignment, Topher felt tired. He looked around the room, the product of decades’ worth of research. Soon, he would be able to do more than simply ward off the magic attacks of these monsters.
Topher strolled into the conference room and gave Abe Silas a firm handshake. The older gentleman pulled him into a fierce one-armed hug.
“Good to see you, Christopher,” Abe said. “I trust that everything is falling into place for the auction.”
“Absolutely, sir,” Topher replied guiding his friend toward the circle of genuine leather chairs in his study. The ‘sir’ partially denoted respect, and partially represented the fact that before he’d hopped his research across the pond, he’d actually been knighted by the Queen. “I’ve ensured that we won’t have any legal complaints. Everything here is above board, as far as the authorities go.”
“Excellent. Once we’ve secured funding, there won’t be any further barriers to our progress.” Abe crossed his ankle over his knee and leaned back. “As I hope you’ve read already from my latest report, our experiments have worked fairly well. Some of them have burned out after a time, admittedly, but
“That’s good to hear. I’d like to have use of some of them. Things are heating up.” Topher drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Someone has been interfering with the distribution. It won’t be a problem once we have proper funding, but for the moment, it is worrisome.”
“I think that would be a fantastic test run, actually.” Abe folded his hands in his lab. “Toss a few of them to you, see how they perform. They’ve done well in the labs, but out in the real world might be a different matter.” He nodded. “You have them. And after we’ve auctioned off this defense contract, we can look at the data and consider personal security options, in addition to our larger scale endeavors.”
“That would keep the revenue coming in, for certain. The wheels of government move pretty slowly. I can ensure that the Senate will vote yes on adopting our system, though.” Topher ran his fingers over his lips. “I’ve got our side in my pocket. No one’s going to break party ranks, not over national defense. It’s a slam dunk.”
“You might get some kickback, though, won’t you? Environmentalist types?”
“I doubt even the dirtiest of hippies would be able to discern the impact our research would have on the environment. In any case, the agency that did those kinds of studies has been long since gutted.” Topher shrugged. “It wasn’t my doing, but we’ll benefit.”
He rose and went to the mini-bar by the expansive legal library that stretched up to the ceiling. There, he poured himself a scotch neat and prepped a gin and tonic for his friend.
“Nothing can stop us, Abe. I assure you. Whatever minor force is messing with our business in Southern California, they won’t be able to halt this machine once it gets going.”
Topher handed the gin to Abe, and the two of them clinked glasses.
“And how’s your brother?” Abe said, as Topher took his head.
“The same as ever. No better or worse, although he does seem to be attracted to the magic we’re harvesting.”
Abe took the olive out of his drink. “Granted, that’s no surprise, is it? There are substantially more Touched in England, and they all seem to be drawn toward it, whether it would destroy them or not.”
Topher sighed. “It’s like having a third child.”
Abe reached over and patted Topher’s knee. “Trust me, friend. Once we have the ability to really study this magic, we will find a cure for him.”
“And the U.S. will have the best defenses against magical attacks in the world.”
Abe knocked back his drink and grinned wolfishly. “And if we and our donors grow ridiculously wealthy in the process…” The old man’s laugh was dry like rustling leaves. “Well, all the better!”
“Indeed.” Topher smiled.
It was so nice when things fell into place.
21
Saffyranae
After they’d teleported back to Rodeo Drive, the silence from Minerva became deafening. The girl loved to talk, and Saff had learned that it was part of Nerv’s personality. Often, it was a way for her friend to fill the void, to make sure a dead pause didn’t hold too long between them. After two weeks with Minerva chattering through even the commercials on the programs she watched, the qui
et was off-putting.
Where Minerva was concerned, it was unnatural.
Saff leaned back against the stone of the alley they were crouched in. Oyshin had focused the teleportation spell to deposit them somewhere they were unlikely to be noticed. It was an incredible boon to be teleported back, as those spells were difficult and could not be cast often. However, they needed to get back into the fray soon. The cure felt heavy in its rucksack slung over Saffyranae’s shoulder. It might be too late soon to help save Mary and any other employees of Annette’s who were ailing from the effects of the magical plague.
But to help anyone, their team had to be functional first.
Saff pressed her hand to Minerva’s right forearm. The human stopped pacing and stared up at her, her brown eyes alight with righteous indignation.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, you know? The lowly human got permission to stay on the mission. I’m a thief, sure. Hell, I’m a big old, lying criminal from a genetically deficient race, but I’m good enough to do some legwork for your Council.”
“I never said such things. I tried to encourage you to return—”
“So I could keep eating shit from Nehemaiah? Thanks, but no thanks, legs. I hardly need another pack of assholes in my life judging my every move, and my whole damn species!”
Saff reached out with her other hand and set it on Nerv’s shoulder. “I defended you. I informed them that I could not do this mission without you, and I mean it.”
Minerva stilled, something unusual for the human. Often, she was a twitching ball of energy, a whirling tornado of movement. “Do you?”
Saff leaned her head lower so it was easier to look Minerva in the eye. “I do. You are my partner in this, Nerv. We have had setbacks, yes—”
“You can say that again.” Minerva scratched at her formerly injured arm.
“Indeed. I could never have gotten this far without you. Whatever the others might say, we are both evenly involved in this. They simply do not understand what we have been through. What’s it that you humans say? ‘Fifty-fifty,’ right?”
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