The Edge of Reason

by Melinda Snodgrass

  “Call nine one one,” he ordered as he jumped out.

  He had the back door open and pulled Cross out of the car and laid him down on the cold pavement. The seizures were continuing. Richard laid his head on Cross’s chest. He wasn’t breathing. The man’s neck was so rigid Richard had to struggle to position Cross’s head for CPR. Richard feared the teeth were too tightly clenched to open and that proved to be the case. As he pinched the hinge of the jaws, trying to force them open, a weird witch light rose like fog from the man’s body. Richard’s eardrums suddenly hurt as if pressure had suddenly been lost in an airplane’s cabin. He realized the cause was a sound at the upper limit of human hearing, but powerful enough to be felt.

  Cross’s body began to shake; then there was the disorienting vision of multiple faces strobing across the core face. It was like watching an animation artist riffle pages of a drawing, causing it to flicker and dance. The sound became unbearable. Richard clapped his hands over his ears and fell back. From the corner of his eye he could see Rhiana doubled over in pain, the cell phone falling from her nerveless fingers.

  Cross’s body flew into multiple figures. Transparent images of myriad men flew in all directions and then shot away, becoming streaks of light. Richard stared at the empty pavement where moments before a man … no, where something had lain.

  Richard looked over at Rhiana, who was also staring at the ground. A shivering settled into the pit of his stomach. “Do you have any idea what the hell just happened?” he asked with elaborate care.

  Wordlessly she shook her head.

  Chapter FIVE

  They stood before him, looking like Hansel and Gretel when they discovered the birds had eaten the bread crumbs. Their hands were almost touching. Kenntnis suspected that if he growled they’d be holding hands.

  The building echoed to the sounds of hammering and power saws as contractors began the repairs. “Let’s go in the conference room,” Kenntnis shouted over the din. The door fell shut behind them and the sound abruptly cut off. A wave of his hand over the wall switch brought up the lights and started the ornamental fountain on the stone bar at the far end of the room. Richard and Rhiana looked like they could use some relaxation. Kenntnis settled into the large chair at the far end of the hexagonal table. He waved the couple toward chairs. They didn’t take him up on the implied invitation.

  “So what’s up?” But the man and girl didn’t move. Instead they exchanged glances. Each seemed to be urging the other to speak. The silence dragged.

  Finally Rhiana blurted out, “We broke your homeless guy.”

  “Or lost him,” Richard added. “Or both.”

  They both looked absurdly young and so painfully tired and confused that Kenntnis realized they couldn’t handle a full explanation.

  “Look, you didn’t do anything. He’ll be all right and he’ll make his way back to us over the next few days.” It was a calculated risk. As long as Cross was splintered there was a chance that one of the less benign fractals would make its way to Richard, but Kenntnis feared if a full understanding of Cross was presented he’d lose the policeman. And he needed him.

  “What happened to him?” Richard asked.

  “He was attacked. He’ll recover. He’s tougher than he looks.”

  Rhiana swayed and caught herself by pressing a hand on the table. Richard’s arm went around her waist to steady her, but he didn’t look much better. His cheekbones were prominent blades and his eyes had sunk into hollows.

  Kenntnis stood and came toward them. “Look, I have a private suite in the building. Why don’t you both get some rest?”

  “I have to get to work. I’m going to be late as it is,” said Richard.

  Kenntnis waved a calming hand at Richard. “I’ve gotten you out of work, and you’re handling the investigation.”

  “What investigation?” the policeman asked.

  “The attack on my building. I’m trying to keep anyone from categorizing it as a terrorist attack. We’ve got quite enough hysteria on that front without me adding to the din. Now, where have you been?”

  “We went to check out the trailer,” Rhiana answered.

  “What did you learn?” Kenntnis asked, looking to Richard.

  “Well, for starters the people in the trailer are gone. I’ve got a good description of the vehicles they left in, and partial information on the temporary tags. We’ve got the neighbors watching the trailer, but we need evidence techs.”

  “So order them.”

  “I’m a beat cop.”

  “Oh, sorry, forgot to mention it—you’ve been promoted to detective.” Kenntnis was surprised to see dismay wash across Richard’s face.

  “Oh, great, I’m going to be even more popular now,” Richard said very quietly.

  “You want me to have them take it back?” Kenntnis asked.

  “No … no … . I just wanted to earn it.”

  “You were going to get there. It just happened a little faster than normal. So what are you going to do?”

  “We have to give some explanation for what hit your building. Whether you like it or not I’m going to call it a bomb, call the people in the trailer suspects, and issue a four-state bolo. Since none of them are even remotely of Middle Eastern descent we should be able to avoid the kind of hysteria you’re worried about.”

  “Sounds good,” said Kenntnis. He stood. “Why don’t you get that in motion and then get some rest? We won’t know anything for several hours.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Rhiana said to Richard.

  Exhaustion was probably the cause, but Oort’s patience snapped. “Am I stuck with you for life?” he demanded. Rhiana shrank in on herself. The policeman didn’t miss it. “I’m sorry, but I need some time to myself. Some time to think.”

  Kenntnis moved to Rhiana’s side and laid a gentling hand on her shoulder. “You’re magically opaque when you’re with him, but you need to learn to do it on your own. He can’t always be with you, and he might die.” Now it was Richard’s turn to shrink back. “Let me teach you.”

  Rhiana sagged as if the slight pressure from his hand had leeched all the strength from her.

  “You’ll keep her safe?” Richard demanded.

  “I swear it.”

  Richard had forgotten to turn on any lights when they’d left at 2:30 that afternoon. He felt foolish, but he drew his service pistol as he opened the door. Light flared in the living room as he hit the switch. The apartment was empty and serene. After locking the door behind him he swung through the kitchen for a glass of milk and a handful of crackers. He had the sensation he was having to search for the floor with his feet, a symptom of exhaustion, but nonetheless disconcerting.

  He had ordered the bolo and sent criminalistics to the South Valley while he drove home. He kept waiting for someone to shout “Fraud!,” but his requests had been met without comment.

  He stood numbly in the center off the living room trying to decide what to do. Television? He shuddered when he contemplated the noise. A book? He was pretty sure that nothing would penetrate the fog wrapped around his brain. Music? He looked from the collection of CDs to the piano.

  The piano won. But what to play? Chopin required too much emotion. Right now he needed to try and think. The mathematical perfection of Bach was the best choice. The resistance of the keys against the pads of his fingers helped ground him back in his body. The body of the big Bösendorfer amplified the hammer strikes against the wires and the sound seemed to struggle against the confines of the small room.

  Guiltily he checked his watch, but it was only a little after 8:00 p.m. No one would object. He ate a few crackers, took a sip of milk, and resumed the sonata. The mistakes gave him an opportunity to pause and eat. Eventually, though, the mistakes became too irritating. He knew they were happening because he was tired, but the music was no longer soothing. If he couldn’t play any better than this he needed to stop.

  Richard took the gun with him into the bedroom. He made certain no round w
as chambered and he placed the gun on the bedside table away from the side of the bed on which he slept. It might be an urban legend, the story of the man who’d picked up his pistol instead of the phone and blown his ear off, but he didn’t want to test the possibility.

  Switching off the light, he laid his head against the Tempur-Pedic pillow and waited for the heat from his body to soften the foam. It wrapped softly around his neck and shoulders. He was falling headlong toward sleep. He blinked, holding it at bay. If ever there was a night for devotions this was one. He began the Lord’s Prayer, but he kept seeing Cross’s face reflected in the rearview mirror and hearing Kenntnis say “and every god you can name.”

  He fell asleep before he reached the end of the prayer.

  Rhiana looked about curiously. Kenntnis’s living quarters occupied the entire top floor of the seven-story building. Windows to the east looked out on the bleak and rugged face of the Sandia Mountains. Monstrous boulders humped just beyond the wide glass windows like the shoulders of long-buried leviathans. They were close enough to touch if one were to lean out the window. She turned away from the forbidding view to the splendor of the living room.

  A fire burned in a central glass fireplace. Comfortable furniture with butter-like leather upholstery clustered about the crackling warmth. The thick beige carpet caressed and cushioned her feet. Wafer-thin speakers suspended near the ceiling filled the room with low music. A Celtic harp rested near the bookcases on one wall. She thought she’d heard the strings give a soft musical sigh when she and Kenntnis entered. Pictures filled every available area of the remaining walls. She had the uncomfortable feeling that she had seen some of the paintings in art books. On the polished tabletops were more objets d’art—curved knives from the Middle East, a tiny carved marble statuette of a horse and rider that looked Greek, Lalique glass—it was an overwhelming display.

  As had happened at Richard’s apartment, Rhiana suddenly had the discomforting sense of standing in two places at once, for her mind’s eye had overlaid the living room of her family’s home in Van Nuys. There were no bookcases, no art, just one wall dominated by a big-screen TV that they couldn’t really afford, the stuffing protruding from the arms of the sofa sleeper where the dogs had chewed off the upholstery, the smell of cooking grease and an overflowing garbage can.

  She felt ashamed and awkward so she glared at Kenntnis when he bustled in. The harp strings sighed again. He checked in the doorway.

  “What?”

  “Nothing,” Rhiana snapped. Then, unable to help herself, she added, “How much money do you people have?”

  “A lot,” came the uninformative reply. “Are you ready to learn some control?”

  “Will it keep me safe?”

  “That’s the goal,” said Kenntnis. He beckoned her over to the sofa. Rhiana sat down warily at one end. Kenntnis sat at the other. “Cross says you’re a lighthouse, a veritable flare of magic energy.”

  “Is that unusual?” Rhiana asked.

  “Yes. Almost all humans have a touch of magic. I think it was laid down in your genes by the Old Ones so they could always keep a foothold in this dimension, but you have an extraordinary amount of it. Fortunately you also have a scientific aptitude.” Kenntnis frowned. “Which is also pretty unusual, but it will help us now so we’ll worry about the why later.”

  “Why do you rely so much on Cross?” Rhiana asked. “You seem to be the big shot around here.”

  “Cross can see magic before the spell is actually unleashed. I can’t.”

  “But you fight it?”

  He smiled at her. It enfolded her, warm and affectionate. “Yes.”

  “So you must really dislike me.”

  “You can’t help what you are, and you could be very useful to us if you were willing to help. That’s why I sent Cross out after you the other night.”

  “So you’d use magic to fight magic?”

  “I’ll use anything.” He clapped his hands suddenly together. “So, let’s get you protected. Do you read music?”

  “No.”

  “Hmm, that’s too bad. Breaking a song down to its mathematical components is an easy way to do this.”

  Rhiana moved to a table and inspected the collection of small stone jars. They looked Egyptian. “I don’t really like music.” She turned back to find Kenntnis regarding her quizically. “What?”

  “That’s a trait of the Old Ones. Interesting.”

  It felt like criticism. Rhiana felt herself flush. “Look, could you give me the big outline on how this works?”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry, that might help. Emotion is the tool of magic. Tamp it down and you start to blind them. Go to the most rational and logical of the sciences … .”

  “Math,” Rhiana said.

  “Right, and you disappear. None of their spells can locate you.”

  “But they can still see me?”

  “Oh, yes. Light enters through the pupil, strikes the retina, travels down the optic nerve to the brain, and voilà, sight. The natural laws of the universe continue to function.”

  “So I just keep a mathematical formula running through my mind?”

  “Exactly. At first it will be a strain, but eventually you’ll have it running subconsciously. And we’ll keep a little Bach playing, just to help you along.”

  Rhiana stood up and stepped closer to the glassed-in fireplace. She rubbed her hands together, hearing the rasp of chapped skin. “Could I actually become invisible?”

  “Average people wouldn’t be able to see you, but the folks who want to kill you would spot you in a heartbeat. It would also take a tremendous amount of energy, and while you’re under my protection you don’t get to feed.”

  “If you want me to do magic I’ve got to draw power from somewhere.”

  “Use yourself.”

  “I had to do that Saturday night. It sucked.”

  “Tough. That’s the deal. Take it and be safe with me. Leave it and go out there and face them alone.” The callousness of the reply left Rhiana breathless. “You tried to use Richard, didn’t you?”

  Rhiana swallowed hard, then forced herself to face him. “Yeah, but I couldn’t get anything. He was really scared. It should have worked.”

  “He’s an Empty One. He can’t be used in that way. But I reiterate, no feeding.”

  The confidence with which the order was issued pissed her off. Rhiana set her hands on her hips and glared at Kenntnis.

  “And if I do?”

  “The world can do with a little less magic.”

  She had to force herself not to retreat. “So, you’d kill me.” She shook her head, disgusted. “I thought you were supposed to be the fucking good guy.”

  “First, I never said anything about killing you, but there is a way to prevent someone from using magic and I won’t hesitate to use it if it becomes necessary.” He paused and stared intently at her. “And I am the fucking good guy.”

  Rhiana turned away petulantly and gave him her shoulder. “Yeah, right.”

  His hand on her shoulder was gentle. “Rhiana, you’ve touched what waits on the other side of the barrier. They want them in this world. I don’t. Doesn’t that make me the good guy?”

  Rhiana remembered the coiling and nauseating colors that filled every reflective surface in the trailer and the way they had sometimes coalesced into terrifying and horrifying faces. Shudders shook her and Kenntnis was at her side holding her comfortingly close.

  “I’m sorry. I’m putting too much pressure on you. Today just let me teach you how to stay safe. Later we’ll talk about the future.”

  “Hey, Oort, the captain wants to see you,” the desk sergeant said as Richard arrived at APD headquarters that morning. He stared curiously at him as Richard signed in.

  “Okay. What about?”

  “Probably your promotion,” and there was no hiding the jealousy and resentment edging the words.

  Richard ducked his head and walked into the squad room. Conversations stopped, then resumed a
nd the looks seemed to strike against his skin. He was a beat cop. He’d been in the captain’s office once—when he had been welcomed onto the force. He forced himself to walk briskly to the frosted-glass door. Then his nerve failed and he tapped tentatively on the glass beneath the stenciled name.

  “Come in,” Captain Ortiz called through the door. Richard entered and closed the door behind him, to the disappointment of the watchers in the squad room.

  “So, congratulations are in order, Richard,” said Ortiz. He was a burly man in his late forties with gray-streaked black hair and a conquistador’s spade beard and mustache.

  “I guess, sir,” Richard stammered and felt himself blushing.

  “So, somebody pulled a string. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last. And you’ve done your three years, you’ve taken the exam. You’re eligible for detective.” The captain slid a gold badge across the desk to Richard. “We found a desk for you.” Ortiz stood and held out his hand. Richard shook it. “And hang the uniform in the closet. You’re only going to need it now for funerals and disasters.”

  It was the opportunity to mention the bomb, but Kenntnis had said it wasn’t really a nuclear bomb. It could only go nuclear by the use of Rhiana’s magical powers. Richard decided to wait until he heard back from the evidence techs he had dispatched. If they found evidence of radiation … . But geiger counters aren’t normally part of an evidence kit, intruded an uncomfortable and unpleasant thought. Or maybe they were after 9/11. He didn’t know. He’d need to find out.

  Richard and the captain stepped back into the squad room. The ringing of phones and the pecking of computer keyboards, the smell of cheap coffee and equally cheap aftershave assailed his senses. This was the real world. How did he tell his captain that a sorceress/witch had been tapped to turn an ordinary run-of-the-mill bomb into a radiological disaster? Answer: He didn’t.