Technomancer (Unspeakable Things: Book One)

by Larson, B. V.

  Jenna pulled up at the curb and left the car’s engine idling. “What’s the plan?” she asked.

  She’d asked that before, but I’d avoided the question. I’d done so partly because I didn’t have a clear plan, and partly because whatever I was about to do, she wasn’t going to be coming with me.

  “I’ll check the place out and call you when I learn anything interesting,” I said.

  Jenna narrowed her eyes at me. “You think you are going to get away with ditching me? Now?”

  I took off her wedding ring—or rather Robert’s ring—and handed it to her. “You’ll need it if I don’t come back,” I said.

  She shook her head and refused to take it. “No way,” she said.

  “Really,” I said, trying to press the ring into her hand. “It’s yours.”

  She pulled her hands back and placed them in her lap. “I don’t want it. My memories of Robert are all painful now. The last thing I want to do is wear his ring. Just let me come with you. We did well as a team at the sanatorium.”

  “Sort of,” I said, putting the ring back onto my hand. “But if there had been only one of us, we couldn’t have been turned against one another.”

  I felt her eyes on me. I took the time to reload my pistol and to dig out the extra magazines I’d bought for it. I dropped more bullets into my pockets when the magazines were full. After all, there were a lot of Gray Men in those cubes.

  Jenna blinked away tears. She leaned close and hugged me. It was an angry, dismissive hug.

  “Just go then,” she said.

  “I’ll call you. Find a safe place for us to hide when this is over. You can take the car, I won’t need it,” I said as I climbed out.

  “Why would we need to hide if it’s over?”

  “I guess I mean—if I fail.”

  Jenna nodded and drove off. I stood there, watching her. When her brake lights flashed and she turned the corner, I remembered sending Holly away from this place. I hadn’t managed to keep her alive, but I tried not to think about that.

  I walked onto the property, following the fence, and stayed behind overgrown brush. The grounds had really gone to hell. It must have been nearly a year since the land had been properly cared for. I’d seen this kind of neglect before in abandoned, repossessed properties. The bank would make sure the lawn was watered, but they never put any money into trimming anything. Plants of every variety grew in wild profusion. Wasps’ nests buzzed everywhere and broken pipes had formed muddy spots on the lawn.

  Eventually, I reached the side door that led down into the cellar. I knew that route in, and hoped I would encounter less trouble that way. I quietly twisted the door handle. It was locked.

  I slipped on my sunglasses, but then the door swung open silently. It hung there ajar, and I couldn’t see past it into the dark interior. I put away my sunglasses and pulled out my gun instead.

  “Come in, Mr. Draith,” said a familiar voice. It was Gilling.

  “You expected me?” I asked, still standing outside. I gripped my pistol in both hands.

  “Not really, but we do have security cameras.”

  I looked around and saw a few plastic bubbles. They didn’t look like much, but they were big enough to hide an infrared camera. I knew this could be a trap. The cultists could be in there, all waiting for me. I was armed, but they might be armed as well. Their little tricks wouldn’t work on me, but if there were enough of them, that wouldn’t matter. A significant part of me wanted to retreat, to jump the nearest fence and call the mission a failure.

  “Come, come, Mr. Draith.” Gilling laughed. “Do you have so little faith? I will unilaterally declare a truce. Tell me why you’ve come to visit. Don’t be rude and leave me bursting with curiosity.”

  Taking in a deep breath, I leaned forward and nudged the door open the rest of the way. So much for my plans to stealthily investigate the place.

  I stepped inside and waited for my eyes to adjust to the deep gloom of the interior. Outside there were lights from neighboring houses, stars and streetlamps, but inside there was only a single candle in the middle of the room. Gilling stood near the candle, leaning against what appeared to be a bookshelf. I peered at the shadowy corners of the room, trying to see if any of his accomplices were about.

  “Could you put that thing away?” Gilling asked. “You’re making me nervous.”

  I flicked my eyes to him, then eyed the surroundings again. I didn’t see anything upsetting, so I slipped the gun into my coat pocket. My hand still held onto the grip, however.

  “Slightly better,” Gilling said. “As you can see, I’m alone. The rest aren’t here yet.”

  “So you knew I was coming?”

  He shook his head. With a faint smile playing over his lips, he pushed open the door that led through into the wine cellar. There, I could see the shimmer of a rip he’d apparently created. Finally, I caught on.

  “You saw me on the cameras and stepped over here to meet me?”

  “Exactly. I was at my residence.”

  “Which is—where?”

  He made a dismissive gesture. “My home is at the other end of these security cameras.”

  I knew the cameras fed into the web, and his home could be anywhere. I could see the advantage of his system. Using his power to create portals, he could watch places such as the mansion and arrive when he felt like it.

  I stared at the shimmering, twisting region of space that hung there in the wine cellar. Such a power. It dwarfed anything I could do. What would it be like, I wondered, to be able to open a path to any other place one wished to go? What would I do if I had such an ability? Travel the world? Empty bank vaults? I wasn’t sure. Clearly, Gilling had bigger ideas. He was trying to use his power to gain even more power.

  “I really did come to see you,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “To ask for your help.” I then briefly explained my encounter with Dr. Meng. I left out any mention of Jenna. Even though I needed them, I had little trust for Gilling and his bizarre crew. I didn’t want anyone to get funny ideas about using Jenna as a lever against me.

  Gilling’s eyes lit up with excitement as I spoke. He picked up his burning candle and stepped closer to me as I continued. His eyes reflected the tiny yellow flame, and I could see he was entranced with my story.

  “This is simply amazing!” he said when I’d finished. “You are a hero for all rogues…do you know that?”

  “Not really. Why?”

  “Because you’ve bested an experienced member of the Community in her own domain. That is almost unheard of. You are a rogue among rogues. You will be remembered as our champion. A man to be feared. Unfortunately, they will come for you now—but how many will they have to send to take you down? They can only send their beasts, their simple minions. You’ve shown time and again you are the stronger.”

  Gilling spoke with hope in his voice. His every word made me feel the opposite. Each syllable confirmed my deepest fears and hammered another nail in my coffin. How could I fend off an army of goons from the Community?

  “I don’t even know most of them. How many are there?”

  “How many what?”

  “Members of the Community. People with powerful domains. Technomancers.”

  “Nine—or eleven, depending on who does the counting,” Gilling said. “You, my good man, have lowered that count by one.”

  “She might not be dead.”

  “A pity. When taking on a throng, it’s best not to miss with your first strike.”

  I straightened up, coming to a decision. I would join this man’s strange, disturbing gang. I would do it to protect Jenna. Perhaps, with enough rogues banded together and my collection of objects, I could defeat those who came for us, or at least enough of them to force them to leave us alone.

  “Gilling, do you remember your offer to me? Last time we met?”

  “Hmm?”

  “To join you,” I said. “I think I’ll take you up on that. I’m offering
you a temporary alliance, please understand. I’m not cutting up any meat.”

  Gilling stared at me for a second with wide, glittering eyes. “Ha!” he shouted after a moment, then stepped back, putting a fine-boned hand to his chin. “Why, I do think you are serious. Can that be? Have I not made myself clear, fellow rogue?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, my crazy friend, I can no longer allow your presence here. I have a great deal of problems of my own. Any and all of our associations are herewith at a permanent end. You are a great danger to me and everyone in my cabal. If you really wish to help me and prolong your own existence, you should flee the desert now. Take your girlfriend with you and run to the far side of the globe. Perhaps that will be far enough…”

  I nodded. “That’s what I thought you meant.” I wasn’t thrilled to learn he knew about Jenna.

  Gilling pushed wide the door leading into the wine cellar. “Don’t try to follow me,” he called over his shoulder. “I mean you no harm, but my home is well guarded. You might not survive the trip.”

  A sense of desperation set in. I needed him more than ever now. What could I offer this man for help?

  “Gilling?”

  Gilling paused at the edge of the burning rip he’d formed. Already, it had diminished somewhat, becoming orange in color. It looked smaller and colder. I wondered where it led. He had one foot in the wine cellar and the other—someplace else. The foot that had moved forward was darker, indistinct. It was as if half of him were a painting that had been blurred by an artist’s hand.

  “What, my doomed champion?”

  “What if I did it under the direction of another member of the Community?” I asked.

  “Who?”

  “Rostok.”

  I could see he no longer wanted to listen to me, that he wanted to step away into the safe nothingness that lay ahead of him.

  “Rostok told you to kill Dr. Meng?”

  “No,” I said. “Not exactly. But he did send me to her. He knew what she was, and what she had done. He knew what I am as well. I only acted in self-defense.”

  Gilling shook his head. “A series of intriguing technicalities. No doubt you might convince a member or two Rostok was behind the matter, but they will want you dead still. If Rostok has a powerful assassin on the board, the rest will want to stomp the spider down all the more.”

  “What if I give you an object, then?” I asked. “What if I hire your help?”

  “You call me a mercenary?”

  “I’ve got a ring I can spare,” I said, knowing he liked rings. I realized it was Jenna’s and not mine to give, but I also figured she would be dead if I didn’t get help fast.

  “A ring?” Gilling asked.

  It could have been my imagination, but his voice seemed to rise up a half octave when he said those two words.

  “Yeah,” I said. “It gives the wearer luck.”

  Gilling laughed, stepping back out of the glimmering space that was his exit. I stepped toward him, closing the distance between us slowly.

  “Luck?” he cried. “Again with the jokes, Draith! You must stop, really! You have to be the unluckiest man I’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter. Do you know that three of my followers have died since I first met you?”

  I explained briefly how it worked. He cocked his head while I spoke, staring at my hands. “That’s Robert’s ring. I had wondered—never mind.”

  I watched him closely. He’d been about to confess more knowledge of Robert’s disappearance. But right now, I didn’t care about that. I cared only about Jenna and me.

  “What exactly is the nature of your proposal?” Gilling asked.

  I told him I intended to go to the cubes of the Gray Men and find the source of their power to open paths into our world from theirs. I planned to close those pathways, if I could.

  Gilling surprised me by walking closer as I spoke. He studied me intently with those odd eyes of his. As I finished, he reached up slowly and plucked the ring from my fingers.

  “They will probably kill us all,” Gilling said. “You know that, don’t you?”

  I nodded.

  Gilling held the ring up and admired it. He twisted it this way and that, letting his burning candle reflect from the curved gold loop. The diamond glittered.

  “The Gray Men have killed members of my cabal. I understand that better now. You cursed us by visiting us, you know. First, sweet old Caroline died when Rheinman slew her with his hammer. The blow was meant for you, but flew right past and punctured her brain. After that, the Gray Men started coming. You marked us with your mere presence.”

  “Everyone I meet dies eventually, it seems.”

  Gilling nodded slowly. “So, your proposal is to have us die faster?”

  It was my turn to chuckle. “Possibly. Or possibly, we’ll stop the Gray Men. We will shut them down and stop the assassinations. We’ll become heroes for our side. Hopefully, the rest of the Community will forgive me for Meng’s—accident.”

  Gilling began to pace, still eyeing the ring. “We can claim that Rostok sponsored the whole effort. That Meng was in league with the Gray Men.”

  “It’s possible,” I said. “Why else would they keep coming and letting me go?”

  Gilling stopped pacing and smiled at me. “You are charming me, aren’t you?”

  I started to deny his odd statement, but he shushed me with fluttering hands.

  “No, no, it is very clear,” he said. “First you bring these killers to me—unwittingly, perhaps. Then you request my help to stop them. You create a crisis and then require more blood from me as the only solution. And to think that we considered you as a source of blood at one time! Ironic.”

  “Are you in or not?” I asked. “Because I’m going to move on them one way or the other. They won’t leave me in peace, so I might as well end it. I’d rather die than have them kill every interesting person I meet.”

  Thin fingers waved away my words as if they stunk up the air.

  “No more bravado, please,” Gilling said. “I’ve had all I can stomach. But I will join you anyway. I will march my fledgling army against the Gray Men. It will be glorious—or tragic. At least it will be better than sitting in this hole awaiting a fate decided by others.”

  Over the next several hours, Gilling made a number of quiet cell phone calls. Soon thereafter, his people began to arrive. I watched the security cameras as the driveway filled up and they kept filing in. Gilling and I had moved up from the cellar into the main living area. I got the feeling there would be a lot of people coming.

  They were a motley crew. Most were disheveled and a few appeared homeless. I supposed that the introduction into one’s life of high technology—or magic, take your pick—was always disruptive. How could you keep your mind on a retail job when the inexplicable object in your pocket begged to be used?

  I was surprised by one familiar face. It belonged to the bearded, homeless-looking fellow I’d met on the Strip late last night. He nodded to me and pulled out the pack of McKesson’s cigarettes I’d given him. He rattled the empty package at me hopefully.

  “More smokes?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “What’s your trick?”

  He slowly removed his hat in response. He reached up and plucked a penny from the top of his bald head. He handed it to me. I snorted.

  “Your hat makes pennies?” I asked. “That’s it?”

  “No,” he said. “Usually it makes paperclips, nails, or nickels. Always something metal. Sometimes, I get lucky and find a quarter.”

  I peered at his hat. It looked normal enough. It was a hunter’s cap with a long visor. It could have been old or new. It was hard to tell with objects, as they didn’t age.

  “Where does the stuff come from?” I asked.

  The man shrugged, putting his hat back on his head. I got the feeling he didn’t like the way my eyes were crawling all over his prized possession. He needn’t have worried. I was intrigued by it, but it had to be
the most pathetic power I’d encountered yet.

  “I don’t know where the stuff comes from,” he said. “But it seems to come from nearby.”

  I smiled at him suddenly. “The casinos,” I said. “That’s why you walk up and down the Strip, isn’t it? You pull coins out of the slots.”

  The man shrugged shyly. “They won’t even let me into those places to go to the bathroom. I figure it’s payback.”

  “Quentin’s the name,” I said, shaking hands with him.

  “I’m Old Red,” he said. “My hair’s not really red anymore, but it used to be.”

  I nodded and began to turn away. He reached up under his cap again, and this time he frowned at me. He stared oddly at an object in his hand and then slowly handed it over.

  “Is this yours?” he asked.

  It was a .32 caliber bullet. I realized with a start that he had pulled it out of my pocket—or my magazine. I was instantly glad I didn’t have a surgical pin in my knee or a pacemaker in my chest.

  “Um, thanks,” I said, pocketing the ammo.

  Old Red steered clear of me after that. Maybe the fact I was armed worried him. To me, he looked like a bystander rather than a combatant.

  The one who disliked me the most was obvious from the start. It was the mechanic with the ball-peen hammer, Rheinman. I could tell he was still upset about missing me and killing the woman named Caroline who’d shaken her doll at me. I ignored Rheinman’s sidelong glares.

  I half expected McKesson to show up and join the crowd, drawn by the twitching hands on his watch, but he didn’t. People had brought food and folding chairs. It was like a strange, subdued block party. I had to wonder what the neighbors thought of the affair. The party was quiet, but I wondered if they might call the police. After all, the house was supposedly abandoned. I asked Gilling about the possibility we would be reported and he’d told me not to worry, he had it covered. Maybe one of his team had somehow made us all invisible, or unnoticeable. I wasn’t sure, so I worried anyway.

  It was after ten o’clock when Gilling called the meeting to order. There were more people here tonight than there had been when I’d met up with them the first time. I counted about twenty members. Gilling threw his arms high and everyone quieted. There was no doubt he was in charge.