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Modern Magic

Page 119

by Karen E. Taylor, John G. Hartness, Julie Kenner, Eric R. Asher, Jeanne Adams, Rick Gualtieri, Jennifer St. Giles, Stuart Jaffe, Nicole Givens Kurtz, James Maxey, Gail Z. Martin, Christopher Golden


  “You read too many fantasy books, Cait,” he said, his face bland.

  “You can’t do that sort of thing?” She was bummed. It would be so helpful.

  He grinned. “Yeah, I can. You should have seen your face. You looked so disappointed in me.”

  “Not in you,” she hurried to reassure.

  He grinned. “In magic then. It has its limits, but we haven’t had very much time to discuss them. Maybe when we get around to telling stories, I can tell you a few about magic.”

  “Sounds good.” Yeah, it sounded really good. She hoped, like anything, that they would make it back to their cozy, wonderful old building to lie in bed, make love and tell stories.

  “Amen,” he said softly.

  Startled, she met his gaze. “I was broadcasting that much?”

  “Either that or I’m getting more attuned to your channel and am picking it up.”

  “I’m not supposed to be any good at telepathy.” She frowned at her bleedover into his thoughts. She should be able to lock it down. She hoped like hell that it wasn’t because of the L-word thing.

  She clamped that thought. Hard.

  “It’s late. You’re tired.”

  “We don’t seem to be getting any early nights. Or much rest.”

  “I think we need it. Can you do this tomorrow?”

  “What, put this together?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sure, but…”

  He held out a hand. “Let’s go. My bedroom isn’t filled with weapons. Let’s get some rest before we go hunting skewers and monsters.”

  Taking his hand, she turned off the light. They left the apartment and crossed the hall under the watchful, and somewhat contemptuous, gaze of the guards.

  “Need anything from the kitchen?”

  She declined and they turned into the bedroom. The sheets were still rumpled from the previous night. She sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly too weary to take off her shoes, now that she’d decided to sleep.

  “Looks like it caught up with you.”

  “I let it show,” she said, trying not to yawn in his face. She failed. “Sorry.”

  “No need. You want a shirt or something?”

  “No. I’m okay with the one I have on.” She looked down at the ratty Georgetown sweatshirt and nearly cried. Sometimes the job sucked everything out of you. “My little brother graduated from Georgetown.”

  “Here,” Aiden said, at her side. “Let’s get done in the bathroom and hit the sack.”

  “’Kay,” she mumbled, feeling like sleep had sneaked up and whacked her in the head. She brushed her teeth and stumbled through washing her face, using the restroom. It was all she could do to get back to the bed and pull up the covers.

  Aiden helped, snuggling spoon-fashion behind her. The warmth of him, the solidity, was reassuring. The muscles in her back, which had been tensed all day, relaxed.

  It was just past dawn when the nightmares began.

  Unlike her pre-drop dreams, these didn’t center on the Towers or the Kith. These were different. They replayed, over and over, the showering spill of sparks marking her predecessor’s death.

  He’d been in a helicopter. He’d known how to pilot one and had crazily gone after a suspected smuggler that had targeted him. But it was an Aurelian who blew him out of the air.

  Speculation was that he’d thought to catch the smuggler unaware, head it off, but the assassin had interfered.

  In her dream, she fought the Aurelian. They went at it one-on-one, a strafing fight, like the old World War II movies or the more modern Top Gun. Behind the controls of the opposing gunship, the Aurelian laughed as he shot her out of the sky.

  “Wake up, love,” Aiden murmured in her ear. “You’re having a nightmare.”

  He continued to stroke her arm, murmuring to her, until she came to herself.

  “That was a doozy,” he said, wrapping her close in his arms. “You were shaking enough to wake me.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No need. What was it?”

  “Three guesses,” she said with weary sarcasm.

  “Ah, our scaly friend?”

  “Got it in one.”

  “Want to tell me?”

  “He strafed me out of the sky, old fashioned Red Baron style. Laughing all the way.”

  “Strange way to imagine it.”

  Without censoring, she told him about the previous Slip Traveler. If he was going to back her up, he deserved to know.

  “Unexplained meteor shower, huh? Guess the tabloids had fun with that.”

  “I’m sure.”

  They talked in the soft darkness of the bedroom for a while until she kissed him. He kissed her back.

  They made gentle love in the dusky room. Hands moved over skin, memorizing the pathways, glorying in the blind joy of touch and taste. When they came together it was a sensual feast.

  Afterwards, they slept again. Only to wake at the ring of the phone. Aiden rolled to the side, leaving a gap of cold air where he had been.

  “Hello?”

  She could hear a male voice at the other end.

  “Yeah, it was. No. That I hadn’t heard. Yeah, I’ve been…busy. That kind of busy.” He reached for her fingers, twined his with hers. “Let me know what else you get, okay? Yeah, sleeping. Thanks, bye.”

  “And that was?”

  “That was Jay, one of my contacts. He works here as a guard. He has his fingers in a lot of pies, does some work for me on the side as well. Knows a little about who and what I am.”

  “Someone you trust then.”

  “Yeah. He’d been keeping me posted on what he heard, but nothing about it was new until now.”

  “What?” She sat up, all thought of sleep forgotten.

  “An unknown civilian at Bartleby’s place, went down with the staff and Bartleby. Word is the guy was probably a spook, like they thought you were. He’d supposedly died years ago. Had an alias, driver’s license, all that, but they were bogus. Prints were on file though, for crimes major and minor.

  “They also found the guard from the hall, the one that went missing? Dead, but with a gunshot wound.” He stretched, smiled at her. “They found him at Dulles Airport, in a car in long term parking, prints from the unknown civvie on the trunk. Not sure what it means, but the civvie in Arizona, at least, is another notch on our killer’s belt.”

  “Finger,” she said on a yawn.

  “Huh?”

  “Trophies. Aurelians collect fingers as trophies. Bartleby, O’Reilly, and probably Hathaway too.”

  “That’s charming, and way too Apocalypse Now.” He grimaced, swinging legs over the bed to stand. “And something I don’t want to dream about, so I’m going to hit the shower.”

  “I’m going to lie here a bit longer, if that’s okay with you. I need to think.”

  He kissed her, sweetly. “Of course. When you’re ready, I’ll make you breakfast.”

  Listening to the water run, she tried to organize the data. Why would a civilian be involved, other than a guard detail? What had the senators been into? How could it be interstellar? Was there a way to find out if any other countries were losing government officials?

  Ticking off ideas distracted her mind and lulled her back to sleep. Her internal clock told her it was after eight, or maybe nine, when she woke to the tantalizing smell of coffee and eggs. She ran a hand through her tousled hair.

  She headed into the kitchen and smiled at the sight of Aiden at the stove. He had the music on, something low and bluesy-sweet.

  “Hey,” she said, not wanting to sneak up on him.

  “Hey back,” he said, turning halfway to greet her. “Pull up a chair. This will be ready in a moment.”

  Too late, she recognized the song.

  “That’s one of my brother’s favorites,” Cait said, her eyes boring into the perky iPod in its blindingly white stand, wishing she could cut it off.

  “Older or younger?”

  He watched her face close up. Wher
e she’d been tousled and smiling a moment before, she was now solemn and withdrawn. It had taken only a few bars of a song.

  Aiden put down his spatula.

  “Cait, he’s not dead is he?”

  She shook her head, looking stricken.

  “You said your parents are still alive.”

  An affirmative nod, but she looked even more upset.

  What the hell?

  He hugged her tightly. If he asked any more, she was either going to weep or leave. Now was not the time to push.

  “I’ll change it.”

  “Thanks. Why’d you let me sleep so long?”

  “You needed it,” he said, recognizing her tactic. Changing the music and the subject got them both off of the broody train.

  They ate as they compared ideas on where to go for the skewers. Maybe it all became simpler when you were facing death.

  Once Cait had showered and changed, she finished assembling the mortar. She showed Aiden how to work it as she put it together.

  “Sorry about before,” she said. When he looked blank, she added, “The song.”

  “No worries.”

  “It hits me at odd times.”

  He rubbed her shoulder. “I get that.”

  Nodding, she shifted back to the practical. “We need to outfit you with other weapons as well.”

  “Oh, more toys.”

  She laughed. “Of course. I’m a belt-and-suspenders kind of girl. I have duplicates of most pieces, but some won’t work for you. They’re keyed to me.”

  “That answers a question I had,” he said, blandly. “As to weapons, if you have anything that will work, I’ll take it. Nothing of mine will work for you,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s all keyed to me.”

  “Yours?”

  “Swords, knives. Spells,” he said, smiling and wiggling his fingers as she was wont to do.

  “Right. Okay.” She’d ponder that later.

  “We need to talk about the cage for the Opthi-whosit.”

  It took till after noon to get set up. She showed him how to work the mortar and the bracelets, but warned him that the others were too dangerous to even show him, for fear that they would damage the floors or the walls.

  Together, they hauled four large packs to her car. She’d already told him one held a capture crate and a containment line. The others were pieces she had to have with her if the Aurelian got her.

  If she were taken out, they would self-destruct, leaving no trace of what they were or who she was. She hadn’t mentioned that to Aiden, not wanting to open that can of worms, but she also didn’t want them in the condo. They’d ruin the gorgeous old place, maybe burn it down. Now that she knew Aiden, and Mrs. Potts as well, she couldn’t take the chance.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Having marked out four restaurant supply places, they got the skewers, in the quantity they needed. There wasn’t much call for shish kebab in October, so the supply was good.

  By late afternoon, they’d visited Kmart for coolers and found a kosher butcher for the first load of meat for the Opthoid. They filled a second cooler at a halal grocery. They got strange looks at both places, being neither Jewish nor Muslim. He wore no yarmulke, she no veil. But, as with any shopkeeper, a sale was a sale, and they needed fresh, bloody meat for the Ty-Op.

  By nightfall, they had set the meat out on long hooks, floating in the two marked places on the Potomac. The hooks served only to anchor the meat. The Ty-Op was too smart to be snagged, but the fresh food would draw it.

  “I need to stop at Walgreens or a CVS drugstore,” Aiden said as they drove back.

  “Why?”

  “Trick or treat tonight.”

  “Oh, Halloween,” she said wistfully. “I wish we could enjoy it. I loved it as a child.”

  “Me too.” They parked outside a Walgreens and rummaged through the remaining candy.

  “I used to plan out what I was going to be for Halloween starting in August,” Aiden said.

  She glanced at him. “Me too. Once, my mother made an entire dragon costume in two days. She had it done in time for trick or treat. I decided late. But she managed it.”

  After paying for their loot, they headed home. On the way, they saw costumed children out on the sidewalks and around the neighborhood.

  “Can we leave…the things in the car?” Aiden asked, eyeing the cameras.

  “For now. We’ll want to check on it tonight, make sure no one bothered it.”

  “There’s an understatement,” Aiden grinned. “Your car would be one everyone should avoid at all costs.”

  “You bet.”

  “Why don’t we make sure?” He turned to the car and made a series of gestures. A faintly blue mist hovered around the car, then dissipated. When she looked back at it, her glance slid away.

  “The hide-it spell again?”

  “Yep.”

  Up the stairs, the guards sat on duty. This pair were more watchful than the others, and it irritated the crap out of her.

  If the Aurelian had to hit someone on Earth, did it have to be a senator? Much less four?

  “What are you thinking?” Aiden asked once they were inside.

  “That this idiotic assassin could have picked less prominent targets. If I have to chase him down and take him out, even if it’s in a meteor shower fashion, like my predecessor, I really don’t want to be chased by the cops, the Feds and whoever the hell else is watching us.”

  “Gods forbid. Now, we feed the trick-or-treaters, prep what we can. Then we sleep, or,” he added as he pulled Cait close, “we make love while we wait for the morning.”

  “Lovely plan. I think I’ll start by loading the mortar packs.”

  “Such a practical woman. I’ll call Tank to confirm the block and sweep.”

  When they finished with the trick-or-treaters, Cait braced herself and walked over to him. “I’m going to say it again. You can still back out of all this.”

  “Enough already. Besides, I thought that was my line?”

  “Not this time, I think.”

  He reached for her. “Not a chance. Let’s get some sleep.”

  Instead of sleeping, they made love, rolling around on the bed tickling, playing, and laughing like loons. They showered and fell back into bed, this time to sleep.

  Morning came too early, the only light shining from her phone as it beeped and pinged. She’d shut off her PDA, and hadn’t checked her computer. In her whole time with the Kith, she’d never done that.

  This trip was different. Chances were good she’d be dead before the end of the day, and for the first time, she had something besides the job to live for.

  Ah, irony.

  Aiden woke within minutes of her getting out of bed. “Going somewhere?”

  “Shower,” she mumbled. “Coffee.”

  They fooled around in the shower, but their lovemaking had a desperate edge. The Aurelian was waiting.

  It would know she’d go for the Ty-Op for all the obvious reasons—she was the planet’s protector, and the Ty-Op threatened the planet’s water. From that perspective, she’d be predictable. What better place to find her, away from others of her kind?

  It would be today. She felt it in her bones.

  By five thirty, they were on the darkened road. The canal was as empty as a graveyard, and not even the moon lightened the spangled black of the sky.

  “Strange way to start the day,” Aiden commented as they parked and began to unload.

  “One of the strangest,” she agreed. She didn’t want to die. She knew she would, and her affairs were in order.

  Slip Travelers died in service. It was a fact.

  Losing Aiden, though, just when she’d found him? That broke her heart.

  Oblivious, for once, to the direction of her thoughts, Aiden asked, “So, are we heading into a trap?”

  Obviously, he’d thought it through as well.

  “I don’t know.” The packs weighed heavily on her shoulders. Aiden carried two, as she d
id. She would set up, and he would go back for the fifth case. “But, yes. Probably.”

  They got to their trap point and dumped the gear. Alert and watchful, Cait set up. She heard a lone car pass on Canal road, and the rush of the Potomac beyond. A first early plane followed the river to land at Reagan National Airport.

  It must be nearly six.

  For the drivers and those on the plane, all was right with the world, at least all was right with DC. It was up to her to see that it stayed that way.

  Flashlight steady, Aiden came toward her, back with the fifth and heaviest pack. He stopped on the path, checked the air, checked the back trail.

  They opened the last bag together. He watched as she set up the containment crate for the Opthoid.

  By the light of the Coleman lanterns they’d bought, she pulled in the grappling hook she’d baited, and wrapped its three barbs with more dripping meat. Tossing it into the water near the bank, she tested the security of the chain where it was wrapped around a tree and was held by a padlock.

  “Now we wait?”

  “No, it’s not like fishing, exactly. I’ll get on my waders and go downstream a little ways. I’ll walk in the water with this.” She showed him a long, matte black pole. “It emits the equivalent of a high frequency sound.”

  “The equivalent?”

  “For an Opthoid.”

  “Interesting. And then?”

  “The lure of the meat and the sound from the pole should send the creature up on the bank. It’ll stay out of the water because of this.” She waved the pole. “But it’ll probably pull the chain up with its tentacles to eat the meat. The first bunch of bait was gone, so it will go for the second.”

  “Okay. Pulling up the chain to eat. That’s unusual. So what do you want me to do?” he said.

  “Yeah.” She laughed at his uneasy expression. “Crazy, right? It’ll know it’s a trap, but a ready source of food will be too good to pass up, especially since it already ate what we offered. According to my mission notes, they don’t really like being wild, so more free, fresh meat will attract it. They prefer to eat on land. The pole will bring it out of the water, and the food will keep it up here. You just have to open the trap.”

  She showed him what to do when the creature came up on shore, if it did so while she was still downstream. Pulling on her waders, she took the sonic pole and went down the towpath a ways before wading down the bank and into the water.

 

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