The Witch Who Came In From The Cold: The Complete Season 2: The Complete Season 2 (The Witch Who Came In From The Cold Season 2)

by Lindsay Smith

Gabe stood, climbed on the table—careful to keep the charm energized—and bellowed, “OH, SAY CAN YOU SEE, BY THE DAWN’S EARLY LIGHT …”

  Edith gaped at him, cringing through the entire anthem. She didn’t uncurl until he jumped down. No applause, which seemed unfair; he’d nailed the high notes. She was still gaping at him as if he’d grown a second head when he released the charm, opened the door, and leaned into the corridor where Emily and Junie chatted.

  “Hey, did you ladies hear something just now?”

  Frank’s secretary turned to frown at him, irritated at the interruption. “Like what?”

  “Could’ve sworn I heard somebody singing.”

  They shook their heads, shrugged. He closed the door again and turned to Edith. “Satisfied?”

  Her face went pale. She slumped in her chair, as though the ramrod in her spine had abruptly melted. She looked like somebody who needed a minute. He gave her one.

  Finally: “That’s impossible.”

  “Should be. But it’s not the first impossible thing you’ve seen recently, or else we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  She was silent again, chewing her lip. Then she said, “But what kind of technology could do these things? Where did it come from? Is it ours? Do the Soviets have it, too?”

  Gabe shook his head. “It’s not technology, Edith. It’s magic.” She opened her mouth to object, but he raised his hands to cut her off. “You’re bending over backward to avoid that conclusion. Believe me, I’ve been there. But this’ll go down easier if you just accept it.”

  “I’m not comfortable with that word.” A longer silence this time. “How long have you known about this?”

  “I’m sure you’ve noticed that my file is a little vague as to why my time in Cairo ended so abruptly.” Gabe gazed inward at that intangible spot in his mind where the hitchhiker had taken up residence. Then came memories of darkness, and people chanting, and somebody lying on an altar. Banishing them with a shiver, he said, “I stumbled on a gang of magic users in Cairo and didn’t know what I’d found. I was lucky to make it out. It was Jordan who saved me.” He paused. “And, full disclosure, she has probably regretted it ever since.”

  “But how does this tie in with the disaster at the docks last night? Who were those people?”

  “You’re not going to like this, but let me put it this way: Just as there are geopolitical factions around the world—us and them, West versus East, NATO versus the Warsaw Pact, US versus USSR—there are also magical factions. You came here investigating Dom, on the theory that he was a double agent. Well, you’re right. He was working for another power, but it wasn’t the Soviets. That guy was the most capital-A ‘American’ you could ever meet. I’ve been trying to identify his handlers on the magic side.”

  “And they—Dom’s magical faction—were present at the docks last night.”

  “In force. As you saw.”

  Gabe couldn’t read her mind, but he could read the expression on her face. Edith had the bone in her teeth now, and the longer she chewed on it the more splintered, the more dangerous, it became.

  Meekly, clearly dreading the answer, she said, “Do the Soviets have their own practitioners?”

  He nodded. “The factions straddle political boundaries.”

  Speaking of which, have I mentioned I’ve been working closely with a magically aligned KGB officer? No?

  “This is a disaster,” she groaned. “You’re telling me there are intelligence officers all over this city, maybe everywhere, with the power to do God knows what! How can you accept this so calmly and do your job like everything is normal?”

  Who said anything about calmly? he wanted to say. But this was Edith’s turn for cognitive dissonance.

  “There’s no such thing as a secret, no such thing as secure information. I mean, my God, what if Dominic wasn’t a willing double agent? What if he was under the control—”

  “Well, on that front you can relax a bit. Even the best witches can’t read minds or control people. They operate quite a lot like we do.”

  “What I witnessed at the docks was not remotely like intelligence work.”

  “What you witnessed at the docks was an operation gone wrong. It happens in intelligence work, and it happens in the… uh… other work, too.” Gabe sighed. “Sometimes the dice come up snake eyes. You know that.”

  “When things go wrong on an intelligence op, people get caught, imprisoned, even executed. The adversary doesn’t start shooting fire from his damn fingers.”

  “Look, it was a really bad night, okay? I don’t know what more you want me to say.”

  “You can start by convincing me of your thesis,” Edith said tersely. “And be convincing.” You’re not off the hook with me, went the unspoken continuation. I trust you now less than ever.

  “The factions devote most of their energy to assessing what the other is doing. To outmaneuvering and thwarting each other. That means for them what it means for us. Gathering information. Assessing it. Gaining allies, garnering trust.”

  “The difference is that if I want to know what’s in somebody’s locked office,” she said, “I can’t just wave a magic wand and walk through the wall in the middle of the night.”

  “Neither can they. I mean, I don’t know if somebody can literally walk through walls. I hope not. But the use of magic is detectable to those attuned to it. Something like that would send up a big bright flare and tip off the adversary. It’s easier and safer to stick to the shadows.”

  “Do these ‘factions’”—she put air quotes around that—“have names?”

  “Ice and Flame.” Edith cocked an eyebrow, unimpressed. Gabe shrugged. “What? It’s what they’re called. Or what they call each other.”

  “Shall I take that statement as confirmation that you have interacted with members of these groups, then?”

  “Given what I’ve just told you, are you really surprised?”

  “Let’s pretend for the moment that I didn’t notice the evasion. We’ll come back to that later.” Edith could be very unsettling when she wanted. This was one of those times. “Give me a rundown of the key players and the landscape.”

  “C’mon, Edith. I’m not outing my sources to you.” At this bit of defiance, she smiled, ever so faintly. As if she was finally glad to see some evidence that he took his job seriously. That put a dent in his pride. “To my analysis, there’s one name that matters right now, and you already have it. A grand poobah from one of the factions arrived in town recently, and you can be sure it means something big is cooking.”

  After chewing her lip for a moment, she said, “All right. I’ll bite.”

  “Terzian.”

  Edith’s superb memory made the association instantly. “The guy from Dominic’s phone records.”

  Gabe nodded. “He’s one of Flame’s top witches. Has been for so long he’s practically a myth.”

  “Jesus Christ, Pritchard. We should have been trailing him—”

  “Edith, stop.” He looked her in the eye, making it clear he was all business. “Terzian is a nasty piece of work. We have to step lightly around him.”

  2.

  “Tell me about Rhemes,” said Terzian.

  Unsure of the master acolyte’s mood, Zerena held back and let Sasha rush in.

  “She’s formidable,” he said. “Ivan and Edvard attempted to take her property by force earlier this spring. They were unsuccessful.”

  “You mean those fools humiliated themselves and the rest of us,” Terzian sneered, “when they were sent running like mice from a cat.”

  Sasha nodded, his expression sheer exasperation. Ever since the failure of the elemental harvest he’d been growing more outspoken, his attitudes more closely—and artlessly—mirroring Terzian’s. And now, after their moderately successful intervention against Ice’s attempt to smuggle their local Hosts out of the city, he’d grown insufferable.

  “Well,” Zerena said, seeing an opening, “she does have the ley line nexus at h
er fingertips. They came armed with candles and she returned fire with a blowtorch.”

  “Perhaps you think others would fare better?” Terzian’s tone softened, and that made her tense. “Perhaps I should send my two strongest acolytes into the breach.”

  Yes. Give us this task, give me this opportunity, and I’ll solve two problems at once. Zerena concentrated on a calm demeanor. A fight with Rhemes will weaken Sasha, leave him defenseless. Terzian won’t believe me when I report that our colleague fell in service of the Flame. But he won’t care, either.

  Sasha looked at her. Of course, he was entertaining very similar thoughts. But Terzian quashed their dreams of mutual assassination.

  “No. First I want to know everything there is to know about this barkeep. I want to know what Jordan Rhemes eats for breakfast, what kind of toothpaste she uses, who she loves, who she hates, who she’s sleeping with, what does she murmur in the depths of her slumber, how many charms she wears, how she brushes her hair, where she grew up, where her every last great-aunt and second cousin lives. And then I want to know who they love and who they hate and what they eat for breakfast.”

  It was physically painful, keeping the smile from her face. This wasn’t exactly carte blanche to arrange an unfortunate accident for the KGB station chief, but it did offer the chance to restore the natural order. Sasha might be a spy, but Zerena had Tatiana Morozova fully in her pocket, whether the girl realized it yet or not. And little Tanushka knew Jordan very well.

  • • •

  Gabe pulled the Moskvich to a stop straddling the curb, per local custom on narrow streets. The parking brake screeched to wake the dead. He crossed behind the car to join Edith, who was staring up at the windows of the flat they’d recently investigated together as “newlyweds.”

  Though it was a warm spring day, she hugged herself. Gabe gave her a wide berth; she’d developed a tendency to retreat if he got too close, as though they were repelling magnets. He wondered if she was conscious of it.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “There are aspects to our investigation I couldn’t share previously. I might as well, now.”

  “You’re saying you found something”—here she cast about for the right word—”special when we came here previously.”

  “Remember the ash?”

  “From Dominic’s cigars.”

  “You wondered how much he smoked. I don’t think he carried cigars for that purpose. I can tell you in no uncertain terms the ash in that apartment was used as a spell component. An ingredient, if you prefer.”

  He let this sink in. Her eyes narrowed as they sometimes did when she was feeling the puzzle pieces, finding where they fit together. The hitch in her shoulders relaxed slightly, as though turning her thoughts to Dom had suspended the (sub?)conscious aversion she felt to Gabe.

  While she stewed, Gabe took the opportunity to poke the hitchhiker. It snarled at him; he lurched against the car. What brought that on? He reached, gingerly, for that hollow, sense-expanding space in his mind. Almost instantly the tastes of copper and mud filled his mouth. He looked down, at the street between his shoes. Then up, at the pigeons lining the eaves over the apartment window.

  “You said he was connected to one of the factions present at the docks the other night.”

  He nodded. “Flame. They’re not a cuddly bunch.”

  A cold wind in a closed room, a woman laid out like a sacrifice…

  “You unbelievable creep, Pritchard.”

  “I thought you’d be pleased. Connecting Dom to Terzian opens a new avenue of investigation, now that you know who the old guy really is.”

  “That trail went cold while you withheld crucial information from me. God, you asshole.”

  It was her job, and her nature, so he’d tried not to take it personally when she had mentally refiled him under True Loyalties: Ambiguous. In Edith’s mind, his involvement with magic didn’t explain his eccentricities. They only worried her more.

  “I’m not withholding now.”

  She sighed, looked back up at the flat. “Anything else or is that it?”

  “Yeah. Magic requires its own energy source, or so it’s been explained to me. There are two ley lines in Prague, which makes it a special place.”

  “Groovy. Will your next solo be ‘Age of Aquarius’?”

  “Lady, I just work here, okay?” He pointed along the lane from right to left. “Anyway, one of them runs right down this street. I doubt that’s an accident.”

  “So what?”

  “So Dom’s pal here was into some heavy stuff. Not cheapo love potions and hedgewitch hocus-pocus.”

  “I only have your word on that.” Edith frowned at him, which had become her default of late. “You won’t be surprised when I say that’s not exactly ironclad.”

  “Had a feeling you’d say something like that.” He raised a hand. Tentatively, in the manner of somebody wanting to console another but wary about it. “I’m going to put my hand on your shoulder, okay? Don’t get excited.”

  Her glance flicked, cat-quick, from her shoulder to his hand to his face and back to her shoulder. “Why?”

  “So you can see what I’m seeing right now.”

  A moment’s calculation, then: “I’m warning you, if this is some kind of sleazy trick…”

  “I’m only sleazy when service to my country demands it.” Gabe imagined touching the hitchhiker with one hand, and then actually touched Edith with the other. He concentrated on his inner sight, on lifting the veil that hid the infra-glow of residual magical lines. They stretched like dewy cobwebs from the apartment window to the street, where they tapped into the ley line deep underfoot.

  “I don’t—Oh. Wow.” Edith’s expression softened a bit. “Okay. Maybe I’m slightly more inclined to believe you.”

  • • •

  It wasn’t often that somebody declined an invitation to lunch at the ambassador’s residence, though given the circumstances, Zerena could understand Tanya’s reluctance. But she’d also declined the suggestion that they meet at Zerena’s favorite café, citing basic tradecraft. That rankled. Meanwhile, meeting at Bar Vodnář itself would’ve been a bit guileless, so Zerena had agreed when Tanya counter-proposed the Vyšehrad, even though this put lunch off the table. She supposed this was how spies liked to do things, and what harm in doing things Tanya’s way for once? Give her the sense of being an equal partner. Keep her comfortable. Pliable.

  Zerena had just the trench coat for a dramatic clandestine meeting, perfect for strolling a graveyard on a foggy winter day. But spring had finally arrived in full bloom, late but stunning, like an ingenue timing her party entrance so that all would see and admire her. Reluctantly, she left the coat at home. Today the sky blazed blue, songbirds seduced each other, and posies brightened the graves of Czech national heroes. Tanya lingered among them, coat slung over her folded hands while she frowned at the bust of Antonín Dvořák.

  “Tanushka.” Zerena found herself genuinely pleased to see Tanya, as if she really were meeting a dear friend. The attachment was understandable, given what they’d done for each other in the recent past, and what Tanya would do for her today, and in the future. Once she learned what Tanya knew about Jordan Rhemes, Zerena would finally overcome Sasha in their tiresome tug-of-war and be done with him.

  But Tanya didn’t return the smile, nor did she return the kisses on her cheeks. Playing it very cool, then. Zerena let the other woman take the lead, and together they strolled—but not arm-in-arm, as Zerena might have preferred—from the churchyard to the walkway around the periphery of the Basilica of St. Peter and St. Paul. Though the walk was pitted and cracked from the long cold winter just past (making it treacherous in heels) it was without doubt the best public vantage from which to watch the river.

  Zerena continued to cede the initiative. If Tanya wanted to keep her at arm’s length, so be it. When the cat is skittish, the best one can do is put out the milk and feign disinterest. Tanya kept her own counsel until th
ey passed within the shadow of the basilica’s twin spires. From here, wisps of smoke were visible, drifting over the city from the destroyed docks.

  The KGB officer said at last, “You’ve been quite busy, I see.”

  “It’s been simply tiresome. My husband may be the ambassador but if not for me he’d not know a single person in this city, nobody who mattered. I’m expected to be the social face of his diplomatic mission, and with no staff.” Zerena sighed. “And this city. One might think that the arrival of spring would make it easier to get fresh-cut flowers delivered, no? But I cannot begin to tell you what an ordeal that has been.”

  Tanya clucked her tongue. “Yes, you’re very put upon. But you still found time to orchestrate that.” She pointed with her eyes, staring over the river to the wisps of ash rising like a revenant.

  “Is that what you think, Tanya?”

  “I think you kept me busy with your errand so that I’d be far from the docks, unable to help. People died because I wasn’t there.”

  “The world is large. We do not stand at its center. Neither of us.”

  “I’m sure you’re working on that.”

  Sharp as it was, Tanya’s tone brought a smile to the corners of Zerena’s mouth. You’re learning.

  “I asked you for a favor. It was your choice and none other’s to deliver it, dear. If you chose, chose, to do something for me at a time when the rest of your colleagues were busy failing to contain one crisis or another, well, it seems a bit perverse to saddle me with that guilt.”

  The muscles in Tanya’s jaw twitched, alternately tensing and relaxing as she ground her teeth. Her nostrils flared, too, and her breath came more quickly. But Zerena’s wards gave no warning tingle. Tanya’s agitation was natural. Ah. She’d felt the first brush of cold metal against her skin as Zerena’s snare drew tight, and now, like a cornered animal, she was beginning to panic.

  “You should have been the diplomat, rather than your husband. You have what the Americans call a ‘silver tongue.’” That made Zerena smile, too. But it faded when Tanya continued, “Of course, you make it sound very simple. But that’s not the whole story, is it? Even if you didn’t orchestrate it, and I’m not convinced, you surely knew about the attack on the docks, and you chose not to warn me. You kept this from me, even as I was committing tr—” She caught herself. Reined in her rising voice, lest it start to echo. “As I was doing you a valuable favor.”