Modern Magic
Page 227
She skated toward her father with a gentle kick, gliding slowly and smoothly, her arms stretched to her sides in beautiful balance.
Dr. Know writhed in the chair, blood streaming down his face as his scalp tore against the metal fingers that held him.
Rail Blade traced a graceful circle around the chair, then drew to a halt before him. Razor sharp swords as long as she was tall materialized at her sides as she drew her arms upward.
“Rail Blade,” said Nobody. “Don’t.”
“Do it,” said Dr. Know. “Finish it.”
“Please,” said Nobody.
“Finish it!” said Dr. Know.
“But,” said Rail Blade, tilting her head to the side, “I haven’t even begun.”
“Let him go, Amelia,” said Nobody. “There’s been enough death already.” Her “thank you” wasn’t much to go on, but the look in her eyes a second ago hadn’t been the look of someone out to kill him. This wasn’t a hurricane or a volcano before him. This was Amelia, a person, a friend. He could still talk her out of this.
“Enough death?” Rail Blade said with a coy tilt of her head. “I know that better than you’ll ever understand. My heart stopped beating the second his poison entered my veins.”
“Doesn’t seem to have slowed you down much,” said Nobody, cautiously moving around her to get within her line of sight.
“Blood is iron,” she said. “I don’t need a heart to move it through my veins. But I still feel the pain. There’s a cold, dead lump in the center of my chest. How could you, Father?”
“You’ll never believe me,” said Dr. Know.
“Try me.”
“I did it because I love you, Amelia.”
Amelia snorted with brief laughter.
“You could have sent flowers, Doc,” said Nobody.
“You’re in such pain,” said Dr. Know. “Before I ever acted, there was a poison eating at your heart. You’ve fought the evil of the world for too long, been too often witness to violence and hate, and it’s twisted you, corrupted you. You’ve become a mad animal, with pain erasing all reason. You lash out at the guilty and the innocent alike. My needle was an act of mercy.”
Rail Blade chuckled.
Nobody ducked as the blades at her side began to carom wildly around the room. Monitors erupted in showers of sparks as the blades smashed through them. Arcs of current zapped through the air as the blades sliced through power cables. The hum of information flowing into the computer bank grew still, replaced by the screech of metal jagging through metal.
Rail Blade bowed to her father’s face, and kissed him on the forehead. She stood, her chin wet with his blood. “It has only begun,” she said.
Rail Blade pirouetted about, turning her back to her father. She kicked, moving back along her rail, as blades grew from the axles of the wheels, reaching out to scrape and score the walls.
Nobody jumped over the whirling blades, running to Dr. Know. He pulled at the bonds that held him, to no avail.
“Don’t worry about me,” Dr. Know said. “Stop her. Any way you can.”
By now, Rail Blade had left the lab, her wheel blades tearing through the doorframe. Down the hall she skated, ripping plaster, smashing through wood and wire. The paintings of masters that hung along the walls were cut in twain as she passed. The blade shattered a Ming vase on an elegant ebony table, spilling flowers to the hardwood floor.
Nobody chased after her, mindful of the torn wires that crackled on the floor. Plaster fell from the ceiling in great chunks. The walls creaked and moaned as their supporting beams were severed.
Now she was in the front entryway. This was an enormous room, bathed in light from the tall windows. In the center of the room was a huge staircase covered with red carpet. Rail Blade rode her silvery beam down the middle of the stairs, turning her gaze to the crystal chandelier high overhead. The chain that supported it snapped, and it fell before her, covering the floor of the entryway with a million sparkling prisms. She waved her hands before her and a stream of darts sprayed forth, shattering the windows. Nobody hung back, covering his eyes, as shards of glass rained down. She skated through the gleaming storm of glass without harm, the fragments shattering further against her steely skin.
She passed through the front door, her blades cutting across the entire length of the front of the house. Nobody ran for the door as fast as he could, as the walls began to cave. He passed through to the relative safety of the outside as the entire front wall of the house crumpled and collapsed, revealing rooms in every story of the mansion, like a giant dollhouse, with a cherry red rocket ship in the attic. Katrina Knowbokov, with almost comic calm, looked up from her book to where the wall had been seconds before.
Nobody followed Rail Blade as she glided along above the stone pathway that led to the garden mazes beside the house. She had withdrawn the wheel blades, and the metal skin that coated her began to melt away. She passed through a corridor of hedges until she reached a large circle of rich green grass, in the center of which was a fountain. Around the circle were dozens of rose bushes supported by trellises. Nobody had seen this garden before, but only from the library balcony.
The rail he followed crumbled to red dust. Rail Blade walked around the fountain, balanced on the marble lip of the pool. She moved carefully, slowly, her arms held slightly away from her body for balance.
She reached the far side of the fountain and hopped down onto the grass. Nobody saw she was looking at a granite slab that was set into the ground.
He walked around the fountain, and noticed a small stone bench. He took a seat, only a few yards from Rail Blade. No, not Rail Blade. From Amelia. He had to be careful how he thought of her. No doubt when Dr. Know had said to stop her any way possible, he’d been envisioning some violent struggle, some surprise sneak attack. Nobody had other plans. The key to stopping Rail Blade was simple. He had to turn her back into Amelia. Forces of nature were beyond his control. But as for the Knowbokov sisters… he had a certain flair for dealing with them.
Amelia glanced at him, but said nothing. He pulled a cigarette from the case in his front pocket and lit it. She seemed to relax a bit and sat down on the edge of the fountain. She supported herself with her arms, as she still seemed a bit wobbly. She continued to look at him.
He stared back. All the steel that had covered her was gone. Only the tatters of her uniform remained. He shifted uncomfortably on the bench as he realized that he could see her right nipple through a rip in her jacket.
“Nobody,” she said.
“Amelia,” he said. He took another drag on the cigarette, his eyes returning to her nipple, and to the gentle curving shadows that lay near it.
“Rough day,” he said.
She nodded, smiling coyly.
“The way you’re looking at me,” she said. “How strange.”
“You’re a beautiful woman,” said Nobody. “People are going to look at you.”
“I’ve never liked people looking at me,” said Amelia. “Not like my sister. She’s the pretty one.”
“Huh,” said Nobody. “I mean, Sarah is pretty. But you, you know, aren’t exactly hard on the eyes. And there’s something about you… a complexity, shall we say, that Sarah can’t even touch.”
She smiled, and glanced down at her tattered clothes. “I think you’re looking at my breasts,” she said.
“Yeah,” he said, sheepishly, but continuing to look. “You’re, uh, kind of hanging out. Sorry.”
She moved her hand to the strips of cloth that covered her right breast and shifted them, concealing the nipple but revealing more of the breast, with its pale curves. He could see the beads of sweat that rolled across her skin.
“You find me attractive?” she said.
“Very,” he said.
“Have you… ever thought about me?”
“Sexually?” he asked.
She blushed, and turned her gaze from him.
“Yeah,” he said, taking another puff of his cigarette.
“Sure. I mean, I wouldn’t have betrayed your sister when she and I were together, but from the moment I first saw you outside the plane window I thought you were amazing. I mean, maybe it’s a guy thing, but you’re flying beside us at 700 miles an hour or something and the main thing my brain is screaming is, hey, she’s hot!”
She looked back at him, her eyes narrow, but the corners of her lips curved into a smile. “Interesting. Don’t I scare you?”
“Terrify is a better word.”
She nodded. Her smile faded. She said, “Terrify is a much better word.”
“Do I scare you?” he asked.
“Maybe,” she said.
“You’ve never even been kissed,” he said.
“Why do you assume that?” She looked hurt.
“Your dad can get into the head of anyone you’re interested in. That’s a much harsher deterrent than a chastity belt.”
“Yeah,” she said, sounding sad. “I figured out early on that I could never love anybody.”
He got up, flicked his cigarette away, and strolled toward her. He sat next to her. She watched him from the corner of her eye.
“How about nobody?” he asked.
He placed his hand on her chin and gently turned her face toward his. He looked at her face, at the sweat, and the dust, the dried blood, the trails of tears. And her lips. Her lips were dry and pale and thin, but possessed an appealing shape. He wiped the blood from her chin. He kissed her, lightly, tenderly. She didn’t close her eyes.
He pulled back, and stared into her eyes. They were unearthly, with gray irises that seemed to be forged from steel.
“You have the most extraordinary eyes,” he said. They grew moister.
“Don’t cry,” he said. “They’ll rust.”
She closed her eyes. He kissed her once more, and placed his hand around her waist. She kissed him back this time, awkwardly, as if unsure of what to do. He stroked her hair lightly. She placed her hand on his leg.
He pulled his lips from hers and moved them to her ear. He kissed her softly on the curve of her neck. She gave a just-audible moan of pleasure.
He whispered, “Keep making that noise when I do something right.”
She put a hand on his chin and turned his head, looking into his eyes. Her eyes were wet, shedding tears as she blinked.
“How did you know how badly I’ve wanted this?” she asked.
He smiled, and pulled her closer to him. He ran his hand beneath the ruins of her clothes, stroking her back as he pulled her closer.
“Didn’t I tell you my other superpower?” he said, lowering his lips to her neck.
She groaned once more.
“Show me,” she said.
Chapter Eighteen
The Woman with the Dead Heart
He lowered her to the soft green grass, pulling away the remains of her jacket. He dropped his mouth to her breast. She arched her back and gasped.
He ran his hand along her leg. Her skin was hot and soft, slick with sweat. He reached the edge of her skirt and explored beneath it. Her breathing quickened.
She smelled so alive. Her odor was intoxicating, full of musk and mystery. Blood, sweat, tears, the dust of Jerusalem, all blended together into some alchemical potion of desire. The perfume of the nearby roses paled in comparison to the rush he got breathing in the air that flowed across her moist skin.
Her panties were drenched, more with sweat than excitement, he guessed. He ran his finger along the inside of the elastic band. She was burning hot, and trembled at his touch. She shifted her legs wider as her hands clenched into fists in his hair.
“I didn’t know,” she groaned. “I didn’t know it would feel this good. I don’t want it to stop.”
He cocked his head to one side, in an echo of her earlier gesture. “It’s only begun,” he said, lowering his mouth to her skin once more.
The night brought a bright, full moon. They lay together on the granite slab, on his spread out shirt. His jacket was pulled over them. He cradled her as she rested her head against his chest.
“I understand now,” she said.
“What?”
“Why they call it ‘making love.’”
He ran his fingers lightly across her back.
“I’ve never been in love before,” she said.
With his other hand, he traced the gentle arc of her lower lip. She kissed his fingers.
“Do you love me?” she asked.
“Hmmm,” he said.
She tensed, ever so slightly.
“I don’t want to lie to you,” he whispered. “I don’t know. I don’t know if what I’m feeling is love, or just bliss.”
Amelia nodded against his chest.
“It feels wonderful, whatever it is,” he said.
“Do you love Sarah?” asked Amelia.
“No. I mean, yeah, as a friend. But we weren’t in love, love. She didn’t take anything seriously. True love is a serious thing.”
“This from a comedian.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Point taken. But, I don’t know, there’s a line in wedding vows, ‘in sickness and health, till death do you part.’ I think it means something. If it really is love, you are committing to be with that person when they are at their worst moments. You’re saying, ‘if you break your neck and can’t even use the bathroom, I’ll always be there to change your diapers.’”
“Well that’s a lovely image,” she said, scrunching up her nose.
“People go to some dark places in their lives,” said Richard. “If it’s love, you won’t turn and run from that darkness.”
She nodded, seeming to accept this definition. “No one has ever loved me,” she said, in a matter-of-fact, unemotional tone.
“Don’t say that.”
She rolled away from him and sat up.
“Do you know where we are?” she asked.
“Um … in your dad’s garden?”
“This is my brother’s grave.”
“Oh.” He sat up, looking down at the granite slab they’d been lying on. He felt the hair rise on the back of his neck.
“This bothers you,” she said.
“No,” he said. “It’s just… okay, yeah, it’s sort of creepy.”
“I killed him,” she said.
“I know. Sarah told me it was an accident.”
“I don’t remember,” she said. “I’ve heard the story of what happened so many times, it seems like a memory, but I don’t know. I’ve blanked it out. My father weaves so many lies. There are no photos of Alexander. What I remember of him is so hazy, more like imagination than memory. I sometimes wonder if there’s anything under this slab at all.”
“Sarah remembers him. Your mother does too.”
“Father did everything to make me forget,” she said.
“He didn’t want me to feel any guilt when I used my powers.” She clasped her knees with her arms, and rested her chin on them. “Eventually I stopped feeling anything.”
Her face wrinkled, as she clenched her eyes shut.
“Oh God,” she said, as tears rolled down her cheeks. “I wish I could stop now.”
He placed his arms around her, holding her tightly.
“He said I was a monster,” she sobbed. “But I’m so much worse than that.”
“No,” he whispered. “No, don’t say this. Don’t think it.
“I’m evil,” she said. “I’m death. My heart is dead. I kill women and children and men, young and old, and never feel a thing.”
“You aren’t evil,” he said, rocking her gently in his arms. “You’re just a girl. You’re just a girl who’s made a terrible mistake.”
“Oh God,” she cried, her voice cracking. She pressed her head to his chest and wept. “Oh God, oh God, oh God!”
“Shh,” he whispered, his own voice choking. “Shh.”
“I’ve done… such bad… things,” she gasped. “And I-I… I think it might have been different…”
“It’s OK,” he said, stroking he
r hair. “Shh. It’s OK.”
“If only I could remember him,” she said. “If I could remember what he looked like. If I could remember his voice, or… he’s gone. I’ll never see him again. And all those people in Jerusalem. Gone. The people who loved them will never hear their voices, or see their smiles, and it’s so awful. So awful.”
“Yes,” he whispered. “It is. But you aren’t. You’ve been carrying the weight of the world. Your father told you the whole damn world was your responsibility. No one is strong enough to carry that. You’ve made a horrible mistake. The worst ever, maybe. I watched you do it. And I saw something beautiful as I watched you. I can’t explain it.”
“Beautiful? You’re as s-sick as I am.”
“Maybe. But maybe I’d still like to be with you, in sickness or in health, for better or worse. I’ll stand by you. You’re a complicated woman, Amelia. But you’re not evil. You’re just lost. Maybe I can help you find your way back.”
“Back to where? Everyone is dead because of me,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “My heart stops, and I keep moving. There’s no better. There’s no health. There’s no normal for me to go back to.”
“Sarah ran away,” said Richard. “She felt like your father was to blame for what happened. She wants to go lose herself in the real world, live like a normal person, who doesn’t fly, or mess with minds. Maybe… maybe she has the right idea.”
“I don’t know what normal is,” said Amelia.
“You can be normal anytime you want. Normal is only a state of mind.”
“I don’t know how.”
“You can learn it. The first step is to get away from your father, with his schemes and plans for the world. You’ve got to stop worrying about the wars that won’t end and the hatreds that won’t die. You’ve got to let it all go, and take care of yourself.”
“I can’t even imagine it,” she said. “Normal.”
“Maybe you’ll like it,” he said.
She ran her fingers across the granite slab.
“His name,” she said, “was Alexander.”
The stone seemed to bubble as she spoke, in thin lines spaced closely together. Iron letters formed, spelling his name, and the dates of his death and birth. Beneath this, a rose of black iron formed, its petals delicately and artfully formed.