by R. L. King
For a moment, Stone considered trying to push past them and make a run for it down the hall—they probably wouldn’t expect it, and he might get to see something before they caught him—but he didn’t. Getting himself beaten up again wouldn’t help his cause, and this time there wouldn’t even be a magical healer to patch him up. He took a deep breath. “Listen,” he said, leaning in even closer. “This man I was talking to the other night—he was…special.”
The second man snorted, and oddly appeared to relax. “Give it up, man. Whoever he is, he probably found somebody else. He ain’t worth it. Now get outta here.”
Stone sighed. “Fine. I’m going.” He took his glass and headed back to his vantage point at the jukebox. This was getting him nowhere fast. Would he have to resort to questioning random customers after all? He didn’t want to, but—
Wait.
He replayed the conversation again: “…or go to Benbo’s up the street.”
It was probably an offhand statement—he didn’t know what “Benbo’s” was, but suspected down here it had to be another bar—but what if it wasn’t?
What if the man had recognized Harrison’s name, or knew who he’d been talking to the other night, and was giving him a clue about where to go next? It made sense—an underground organization working against a powerful enemy like the Talented would need to be absolutely sure any new recruits weren’t spies before allowing them access to their secrets.
You’re being absurd, Stone told himself. Grasping at straws now.
But what other choices did he have?
He glanced back toward the hallway; the two men were still there, appearing to have an animated conversation over their beers, but once he caught them flashing quick glances in his direction. At the tables, the three workmen he’d noticed were still there, but the hooded figures and the mismatched couple were gone, replaced with another couple and four more workmen.
He finished his ale, left the glass on top of the jukebox, and headed for the door. On his way, he asked a random customer which way Benbo’s was.
The swaying young man hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Oh, yeah—go outside and turn left. It’s two blocks or so down.” He raised a rolled dopeweed joint the size of his index finger, took a long pull, and offered it to Stone with a goofy grin.
“Thank you,” he said hastily, waving off the joint and hurrying out.
Outside, the crisp sea air was a welcome change from the Rest’s smoke-filled interior. A light, cold breeze blew off the water; Stone couldn’t see the docks from where he stood, but he could hear the water lapping against them. He paused a moment to take a few deep breaths and clear his head, looking around for anyone who might be watching him.
Nobody was, as far as he could tell. A few people lingered in front of the bar, but all of them appeared to be occupied with their own conversations. After a moment, a group of them bid each other goodbye and took off in two different directions, neither of them in the direction of Benbo’s.
Stone glanced left, the way the weedhead inside had told him to go. The street was mostly deserted at this time of night, the crumbling brick buildings bleak against the cloudy night sky, but far off in the distance he saw lights through the mist: blues, yellows, greens. That must be the place, he decided, since he spotted no other lights in that direction. He buttoned his coat against the air’s damp chill and set off at a fast walk.
He quickly realized his destination was farther away than he’d thought. From where he’d stood in front of the Fisherman’s Rest, the lights looked only a block or two away, but as he walked, a long time passed before they seemed to get any closer. The weedhead had said “two blocks”—apparently they had long blocks down here, or else the man’s perception of distance was less than reliable. Stone glanced back over his shoulder toward the Rest; it wasn’t as brightly lit as Benbo’s, and had already receded so far into the mist that he could barely pick it out.
When he turned back toward his destination, someone was standing in front of him.
17
Stone stopped, eyeing the man with wary caution. He looked like many of the others he’d seen back at the Fisherman’s Rest: pale, scruffy, unshaven, dressed in dark work clothes and sturdy boots. “Yes, can I help you?” He shifted his gaze to the sides, wondering if more of them lurked in the mist.
“Want to talk to you,” the man said. He indicated a narrow alley between two darkened buildings. “Let’s go where nobody can see us.”
“Do you think I’m an idiot?” Stone asked, narrowing his eyes. “Listen—I barely have enough money to buy a sandwich and a pint of ale. So if you’re planning to mug me—”
“I hear you’re lookin’ for somebody.” The man appeared unruffled by Stone’s words. His posture remained casual, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, and he displayed no obvious weapon. “If you’re not interested, then—”
Stone tensed, suddenly even more on guard. “I might be,” he said with care. “Do you know where to find him?”
“Come over here.” The man looked around as if he expected someone to jump them. “It’s not safe to talk about this kind of thing out in the open.”
Considering for only a moment, Stone nodded and followed the man into the alley. If this was a mugging, he’d hand over his meager store of coins and do his best to escape, but after all this time he couldn’t risk passing up an opportunity to get closer to Harrison.
“All right,” he said when they had moved back into the alley’s shadows. “Now tell me—do you know where the man I’m looking for is?”
“No.” A light flared as the man lit a cigarette—a regular one, not dopeweed this time. He held out the pack. When Stone shook his head, he said, “I don’t know where he is. Nobody at my level knows where he is. But I know the right people to talk to if you want to find him.”
Stone leaned against the wall so at least one direction was defensible. The alley was so dimly lit that all he could see was the man’s shadowy figure and the tiny orange pinpoint of his cigarette. He lowered his voice to a near-whisper. “Let’s just be clear before I trust you—tell me something to prove you know who I’m looking for.”
The man chuckled in the darkness. “It ain’t you who needs to trust me—it’s me who needs to trust you. I’m guessin’ you know how dangerous it is to talk to the wrong people. Just ask Faran and Runa about that, yeah? The Zaps are everywhere—you could be a Zap spy, for all I know.”
“How do you know I’m not?” Stone asked. “How do I know you’re not?”
“You don’t. And neither do I. But I don’t think you are. We’ve had eyes on you ever since you started droppin’ dangerous names. Wanted to make sure you wouldn’t bring the Zaps down on us if we talked to you.”
Stone shook his head. “At this point, all I want is to find him. I need to talk to him about something important.”
“Important?”
“Nothing that affects you lot,” he added hastily. “Something I need to find out from him. Now—can you help me find him, or should I go on my way? I won’t tell anyone we spoke, but if you know what happened at Faran’s shop, you know I haven’t time to waste.”
The man appeared to consider his words; it was hard to tell when Stone couldn’t see his face clearly. “Yeah, okay,” he said at last. “I told you—I don’t know where he is. It’s dangerous for anybody on the streets to know things like that. But I do know people you can talk to.”
That made sense—he’d speculated before that if some kind of rebellion was growing among the mundanes, it would have to be cell-based to keep the mages from ripping through the organization every time they caught one of its members. “All right,” he said. “Take me to these people. I’ll do what I can to help you—though I warn you, it probably won’t be much. I’m not exactly at my best at present.”
“That’s all right. A lot of us aren’t. Come on—and keep up. It’s never smart to stay in one place for too long.”
“How far are we going?”
> “Not too far. Just follow.” Without waiting to see if Stone complied, he headed further into the alley.
Stone quickly caught up with him, his longer stride easily keeping pace with the shorter man.
The man didn’t seem inclined to talk as he stopped at the other end of the alley, looked both ways, then darted across the street into another narrow space between two more buildings. Stone tried to keep track of where they were going, but it wasn’t long before they’d passed into an unfamiliar area dominated by more crumbling brick buildings. Here, whoever took care of the town’s infrastructure didn’t even bother keeping the streetlights lit—by the time they’d gone what Stone estimated to be a quarter-mile, he’d seen only one faintly flickering light. He wondered if they were heading into the Barrens, and kept a cautious eye out for any of the mutant wolf-things or other hostile wildlife.
“How much longer?” he asked at one point, barely loud enough to be heard.
“Shh!” the man cautioned. He held up a hand, looked around him, and his posture tensed. “Quick—in here!” He ducked into another alley and crouched behind a pile of wooden boxes.
Stone hurried to follow, glancing back over his shoulder. At the far end of the street, he spotted two figures. Were they wearing long coats? He couldn’t tell, but better to be safe. Complying with the man’s frantic gestures, he moved behind the boxes and crouched behind them, out of sight of the street.
“Shh…” the man whispered again. His posture remained stiff and fearful as he peered with caution around the corner of one of the boxes.
Stone, afraid if he tried to look too and those were a pair of Talented out there, remained ducked securely behind the boxes. He waited what seemed like several minutes before his companion relaxed.
“Okay,” the man said, rising. “They’re gone. Damn slumming Zaps are always a problem.”
“Slumming?” Stone stood up behind him, checking the end of the alley for any other signs of movement.
“Yeah. Some of ’em like coming down here so they can feel good about themselves for how much better they have it. Sick bastards, if y’ask me. Anyway, we’re almost there. Let’s keep moving before they decide to come back.”
Stone followed him down two more streets and three more alleys before they finally stopped. At this point, he was sure the man was leading him on a circuitous route, trying to disorient him so he wouldn’t be able to find his way back to wherever they were taking him. That was fine with him—it was better than being herded along blindfolded. If this went well, he’d meet up with whoever the man’s secret contact was and find out how to approach Harrison, and he wouldn’t have to come back here.
Halfway up another alley, the man stopped in front of a closed door. He knocked—twice, then three times—and then stepped aside, glancing up and down the alley. Less than a minute later, Stone heard a click on the other side.
The man opened the door and waved Stone in, then followed him and closed the door behind them. They now stood in a narrow hallway that smelled of dust and spicy food. “Just through here,” the man said, pointing at another door ahead of them. “Sorry about all the running around, but we had to make sure nobody was following you.”
Stone opened the door and stepped through into a small room with no windows. An uncovered, overhead light illuminated what looked like a temporary crash space: mattresses on the floor, a pair of old couches, a table with two chairs. The room was currently empty, but there was another door on the other side. He turned back to the man, who’d come in behind him. “When are they going to—”
He stopped.
Something—he couldn’t identify exactly what—had changed in the man’s expression. Tensing, he felt his heartbeat increase. Stop it, he told himself angrily. Nothing’s wrong. You’re jumping at shadows again.
But the man was standing in front of the door they’d just come in, and he was eyeing Stone under the brighter light as if examining something on a laboratory slide.
Stone narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on?” he demanded. “Where are the people you were taking me to?”
“We’re right here,” came a smooth voice from behind him.
18
Stone whirled—and froze.
He hadn’t heard the two people standing behind him enter the room. They were there now, though, in front of the other door, looking smug and unruffled—a man and a woman. He didn’t recognize either of them: the man had dark skin and swept-back blond hair, and the woman was pale with long, dark auburn tresses. What he did recognize, though, all too quickly, were their long, high-collared coats.
Oh, bloody hell, no…
He didn’t hesitate—he knew if he did, he was lost. Instead, he spun again and threw himself toward the smaller man who’d brought him here, intending to shove him aside and escape through the door he blocked. If he could get back out to the street, he might be able to run fast enough to evade them long enough to find a hiding place.
He didn’t even make it to the man before his feet lifted off the floor and his hands locked at his sides.
“Now, why are you running away?” the man asked with a deceptively amused smile. “We have a lot to talk about.”
“You’ve been giving us quite a lot of trouble for the past few days,” the woman said. She stepped forward and paced around Stone, examining him from every angle. “You don’t look like much—not bad looking for a pig, but ultimately just another one of the faceless Dim.” She came back around in front of him so he could see her, looking thoughtful. “But you’re not one of the faceless Dim, are you?” She glanced past him to something past him. “You may go,” she said curtly.
Stone heard the door close behind him—the one he’d come in. “So he was on your payroll, was he?” he asked.
The man chuckled. “Oh, no. We don’t pay them. We…make them offers it would be in their best interests to accept.” His gaze flicked to their surroundings, and his lip curled in distaste. “But we can talk later. I can’t stand to be in this disgusting place a moment longer.”
Stone struggled against the magic holding him suspended in midair, but he might as well have tried to escape from a block of ice. He could move his head, but that was all. “What do you want?” he demanded. “Or is this just another example of tormenting people who can’t fight back because it gets you off?”
A quick flash of anger crossed the woman’s face. “I wouldn’t,” she warned. “You’re not exactly in a position to ask questions, and if you annoy us, we could make life unpleasant for you.”
“You’re already doing that,” Stone pointed out. “You aren’t going to kill me—if you wanted to do that, you wouldn’t have set up this ruse to lure me here. Obviously you lot can get away with killing whoever you like—they’re nothing but the ‘Dim,’ right? So clearly you want something from me.”
“Oh, we do,” the man said. “We definitely do. But you need to remember, before you get too cocky—there’s more than one way to extract information. If you play nicely, we’ll use the ones that don’t have…permanent side effects. Otherwise…”
In spite of himself, Stone tensed, his heart beating faster. He wasn’t getting out of here, that was obvious—best to play along for a while until he had a better chance to escape. “What do you want, then?”
“That’s for later, after we get out of this hellhole,” the woman said. “No more talking now.” She twitched a hand.
Stone tried to reply, but discovered to his horror that he couldn’t. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. He glared at the pair and tried to fight past the magical block, but couldn’t even manage a feeble moan.
“Let’s go.” The man made a gesture, and Stone began floating along between them as they left the room through the far-side door. He could do nothing but watch helplessly as they traversed another hallway and exited through a door into another alley, where a boxy, beat-up van waited.
Stone only had time to speculate about why these two haughty Talented would drive such a scruffy
-looking vehicle before they opened the back door and pushed him inside, then slammed it shut behind him and climbed into the front. The full-body lock broke, dropping him with a crash to the floor. He quickly scrambled up and lunged forward, but an invisible barrier stopped him. Stepping back, panting, he looked around him as the van began to move.
Inside, the space looked nothing like its exterior might suggest. Instead, the front seats were made of pale tan leather, there was no steering wheel or gauges, and the cracked windshield was replaced by a wide-open expanse of sparkling glass. The back portion that held Stone was a featureless space with white walls, a hard metal floor, and no view of the outside. When he tried to open the side door, he discovered that no seam was visible from in here. As far as Stone could tell, the small cubicle had no exits.
The van was moving now, but the only way he could tell was by looking out the front window and seeing the buildings moving past. Otherwise, he experienced no sensation of movement: no tires bouncing over uneven streets, no bumps and jounces as they hit one of the innumerable potholes, not even slowing or stopping for the occasional pedestrian or other vehicles. He heard no telltale engine rumble—was his cubicle soundproofed, or were they floating? Was this some kind of magically-powered van disguised to look like one of the mundanes’ ramshackle vehicles?
He moved up to the invisible barrier separating him from the two Talented in the front seats. “Hey!” he called. “Where are we going? Where are you taking me?” Already, the view out the front window looked unfamiliar; he didn’t recognize the streets they were passing, but the dark brick buildings looked in better repair and the streetlights were actually doing their job.
They didn’t answer; they didn’t even act like they’d heard him. He watched as they chatted between themselves, no more mindful of his presence than a pair of dogcatchers would be of a barking stray they’d picked up. “Oi!” he called again, louder. “I asked you a question!” He pounded on the invisible barrier, but his efforts had no effect except to make his hand tingle where he’d contacted it.
