by Jes Battis
“This is for you,” my mother said. “It was hidden for nearly fifteen years. But you’re ready for it now. It’s time.”
I stepped closer. I realized that she was holding another athame. Its hilt was braided in silver, and the guard was an elegant U shape, carved into the likeness of enwrapped vines. I stared at it. She was right. I hadn’t seen the blade in fifteen years. But I remembered it.
“This was Meredith’s,” I breathed.
“It’s yours now.” She took back her own athame from me, handing me Meredith’s as she did so. It felt heavy in my left hand.
“This was why you went to Tulum?”
“Yes. When she died, I inherited most of her possessions. I left them with some friends. Two weeks ago, I had a dream about her. I booked a flight that morning.”
“Kevin thinks you went on a cruise.”
“I brought him back a T-shirt and a necklace. He’s happy.”
“Why are you giving this to me now?”
“Because you need it to complete your training. There was a lot that Meredith wanted to teach you. Now it’s up to me.”
I shook my head. “She’s been dead for fifteen years. What am I supposed to do with this?”
“It’s easier to feel than it is to understand. Watch me.”
She held out her athame. I felt a slow, dark current of power, rising like mist between us. The dagger in her hand began to shimmer. It became liquid. She held it with both hands. Then, carefully, she moved her hands in opposite directions. The liquid divided, still rippling, as if driven by an unseen current. Now she was holding two daggers. I felt her concentrate again, and the blades solidified. They were both exact copies of each other. I couldn’t tell which was the original.
“I think I saw her do that once,” I breathed. “Meredith, I mean.”
“Yes. She’s the one who taught me.” She held the blades comfortably. “It’s not the same as having two real ones, of course. But it works in a pinch.”
“How long will they stay like that?”
“Until I lose my concentration. I haven’t done this in a while, so you’ll have to forgive me. “
“I don’t understand what you’re trying to teach me.”
“The most valuable lesson that my mother taught me.” She leveled both of the blades, assuming a combative stance. “To stay alive.”
I stared at her. “You know something about this case, don’t you? The Ptah’li, the Ferid, the Kentauroi—you know something that you’re not telling me.”
“That’s part of being a mother. Now. Are you ready?”
“For what—”
Suddenly she was in front of me. Her hands moved so fast that they were nearly a blur. One of the knives rushed toward my face, while the other slashed downward at my midsection. I stumbled backward, bringing up both athames in a clumsy defense.
“The CORE only teaches you to fight with a single weapon,” she said, advancing upon me again. “Unless you count guns, which are basically useless. But there’s an art to fighting with two athames in tandem. If you can master it, you’ll always have an advantage in combat.”
“Mom, you’re freaking me out.”
“Get over it, dear. You have to defend yourself.”
She slashed at me again with both blades. I caught the guard of her right blade with my own athame. I used Meredith’s athame to deflect her second blade, and the two weapons hissed as they met each other.
“Good.” She took a step back. “You’re learning. The trick is to move both blades at the same time, as if you were using a single weapon. You’ll get faster as you practice, but for now, we need to work on your balance.”
“What’s wrong with my balance?”
She lunged. I parried both of her strikes with some difficulty.
Then she kicked me in the stomach.
It wasn’t a hard blow, but it was enough to send me scrambling backward. I nearly fell, but managed to recover myself.
“That was dirty.”
“Yes. It’s also possible to do what I just did without moving any part of your body. You can channel force directly through the blades.”
“Like kinetic energy?”
“Exactly. Why don’t you try it?”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I gave birth to you. I doubt you can hurt me any more than you did when you came out breach.”
“All right, then.”
I lunged at her. She brought up both of her blades in defense, and when our weapons touched, I channeled a spike of materia from the ground. It made my teeth chatter, but I let it flow through me, out of my fingertips, into the tempered steel of the twin blades. The air between us sang. Then the power struck out.
She was expecting it, so she didn’t stumble. But it still pushed her backward. She bent her knees, making a small sound.
“Are you okay?”
“Of course. I’m just not as young as I used to be.”
“Should we stop?”
She glanced at her watch. “We’ve got at least another half hour until Mia gets home. That should give me enough time to show you some crossover lunges. Perhaps even a coulé.”
I smiled. “I’m game.”
“Good.” She raised both of her blades. “Ready?”
“I think so.”
“All right. Come at me again.”
We continued to fight, our weapons ringing out against the silence of the empty lot, smiling as we struck at each other.
13
“Hey. I was hoping to run into you.” I handed Cindée a coffee. “Here. I got an extra mocha for Derrick, but then he wimped out and decided he wanted to have tea. So I mocked him as I was getting out of the car, but now—free mocha for you.”
I’d just been passing the break room when I saw her, closing up a Tupperware container of something she’d heated in the microwave.
“That’s sweet! Thanks. And I’ll take it.”
I sat down on the couch, struggling out of my jacket. “Is your break over? I’m not quite ready to look at any data, at least not for another minute or so.”
“I’ve still got another five.” She sipped her coffee. “Mmm. Thanks again. This is really going to push me through the next four hours.”
“How’s the fragment analysis going?”
“It’s easier to show you than tell you, at this point.”
“Yeah, that’s usually the case.”
“Let’s not run over to Trace just yet, though.” She shifted position. “I’ve eaten too much weird food today. I feel bloated.”
“I know that feeling. My stomach’s already angry at me. And who can blame it? Last night, I had chips and salsa before going to bed.”
“That actually sounds pretty good.”
“I had to floss after. But I got this new flossing thing.”
“Oh, the plastic one, with the handle?”
“Yes! It’s incredible. It’s like I can feel myself actually becoming a slightly more responsible person each time I use it.”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
We were silent for a beat. My phone buzzed. I looked down.
“It’s Mia,” I said. “She and Patrick want to borrow the car.”
“Let ’em. From what you tell me, Mia’s like an anchorite or something, always studying and saving herself for Berkeley. Let her have some fun.”
I texted back my assent. “Done. See? I can make decisions.”
“You seem to be doing fine. I saw both of them yesterday, and it’s clear that they idolize you and Derrick.”
I chuckled. “Maybe you mean it in the sense of Roman house idols—the kind of statues you could break or throw in the closet. If anything, Patrick and Mia are hypersensitive to all of our tiniest flaws. They’re like these two little bitchy microscopes.”
“I grew up with three sisters. No need to explain it.” Cindée looked at her watch. “Okay, break’s over. Follow me, and I’ll show you something that’s pretty much going to blow your mind.”
&nbs
p; “It’s too early to get fully blown. And I mean that with all due respect.”
Cindée led me to the trace lab. The fragments had been pieced together and were displayed on a metal tray. About half of the shape was missing, but the piece that remained looked almost like a small cabinet, or even a reliquary of some kind. The inside was hollow and obviously meant to contain something.
“This is amazing.” I peered closer. “What are these little grooves?”
“I think they might be hinges. For a small door to swing open. If there was a latch, it’s been lost. But the design seems to suggest a kind of semi-organic vessel.”
“Any idea what might have been kept inside?”
“None at all. But we’ve found a residue on the inside. Have a look.”
I looked through the eyepiece of the scanning electron microscope. Blue granules of powder appeared like frozen limestone cliffs under the lens. I could also see irregular clumps of a lighter material, clinging to the substrate in places. Those patches were probably the result of whatever acid had been applied during the wet powder suspension.
“What’s in it?” I asked, rising from the microscope.
“High levels of nitrocellulose.”
“As in gunpowder?”
“Yes. But also like nitrate film.”
“Huh. That makes very little sense. A fine blue powder left over that’s full of nitrates, and it’s sticking to the inside of—what, exactly?”
“We’re cautiously describing it as a vessel.”
“Great.” I looked at the vessel. “What are we doing with the powder?”
“Various atomic absorption tests. But I also had a bit of a maverick idea.”
“I’m listening.”
“Well, the nitrates could be acting as a cellular medium for all sorts of different energies. I thought we could apply some alternating materia currents to it, like we might do if we were electrifying a gel strip for an STR test.”
“Are you trying to create Frankenstein’s monster out of blue dust?”
“Possibly.”
“I can ask Ru about it. I doubt he’ll be forthcoming, though. And I’m not even sure how I’d begin the conversation. Hey, we found what might be a broken birdcage, with some dust in it. Anything like that ring a bell?”
“Maybe phrase it a bit differently.”
My phone started ringing.
“Sorry. It’s Mia. But good work on the powder, Cindée.”
“Thanks. Be sure to mention it to Selena when she’s signing my overtime authorization. Which needs to be in by six today.”
“Gotcha! I’ll tell her!” I left the trace lab. “Mia? What’s up?”
“Can I spend twenty dollars?”
“Well, you do have your own bank account. Would there be anything in said bank account at the moment?”
“Yes. But if I spend twenty tonight, I won’t have enough money for coffee tomorrow, and I need coffee to stay awake. So, it’s a bit of a crisis.”
“Basically, you’re asking me for money.”
“If you want to put it that way. Yes.”
“Where are you?”
“At the daegred.”
I blinked. “At the daegred. You’re hanging out with vampires.”
“It’s a safe house. Besides, Patrick’s with me. And Modred.”
“Oh really. How’s Modred?”
“He’s teaching me how to smell stuff. I know I made fun of Patrick for doing it, but it’s actually kind of cool.”
I swore inwardly. “Don’t move. I’m coming to get you.”
“No, don’t worry; I’m having a nice time.”
“I’m picking you up, and we’re going to Stanley Park.”
“Are you serious?”
“I’m putting on my coat as we speak.”
“God. You suck.”
She hung up.
I sighed, heading for the door. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Modred. And Patrick wasn’t exactly a bad influence. He did seem to watch out for her, most of the time. But the last thing I needed was a room full of emo vampires convincing Mia that she needed to get further in touch with her dark legacy.
Other than Derrick, who now appeared to be damaged, Mia was the last un-screwed-up thing in my life. She wasn’t about to transition to vampirism. She’d stay mortal if I had to chain her up.
Mia stared fixedly out the window as we crossed the Lion’s Gate Bridge on our way to Stanley Park. She’d been silent the whole drive here. I knew that she was fuming on the inside, but I didn’t have time to chat about it now. I guess I could have handled her visit to Patrick’s court in a sweeter, less hostile way. After all, the daegred, an Anglo-Saxon word for “safe house,” was really no more than a vampire community center. If Mia was in danger of anything there, it was the possibility of getting bored to death by teenaged boys talking about computers.
I’m not saying it was rational, but I needed to know where she was, if only for the next twenty minutes. I needed to feel like a parent, even if I had to force the issue and make us both feel bad about it. Selfishness, it seemed, didn’t magically vaporize upon inheriting a guardianship. I parked at the foot of the bridge, in the lot I knew was free. This happened to be where I’d parked when I got attacked by a necromancer wearing a Vorpal gauntlet. Even if I was thumbing my nose at fortune, it seemed worth it for free parking, especially in this neighborhood, where every acre of land was saturated with old money.
I switched off the ignition.
My eyes hurt from driving at dusk. A hazy porosity lay over the whole landscape. I thought it would probably rain, and was already cursing the fact that I’d driven here in my Birkenstocks. They always smelled funky after they got wet. Unless it was just my feet. The thought was mildly depressing.
“Nobody was raping me,” Mia said.
“Well, that’s good to know.”
“I wasn’t in any danger.” She kept staring out the window. “Both Patrick and Modred were there. Patrick’s my brother, and Mo has no interest in me. I have no idea what kind of person he likes to feed from, actually.”
“I don’t know what should be more distressing—the thought of someone feeding on you, or the fact that you’ve started calling a vampire Mo.”
“Patrick started it. We’d never call him that to his face.”
“I would like to see his expression if it happened, though.”
She laughed. “He’d be like, Your modern slang confuses me, and then I’d have to watch him play with his lip piercing for, like, the next thirty seconds.”
We both got out of the car. I set the alarm. “I know you can handle yourself,” I said. “I’m not daft. It just makes me nervous.”
“Why? Because they’re vampires? Or because I’m one?”
“You’re not a vampire.”
“I was infected with the virus.”
“Yes, but it’s always been dormant. And you’re on medication that regulates your viral load, keeps you asymptomatic.”
“What if I don’t want to be asymptomatic anymore?”
I stopped walking. I could feel a sigh building within me, but I pushed it down. I turned and looked at her.
“You’re old enough to decide how you want to live your life. If you want to become a vampire, I can’t do anything to stop you. But if you have one scrap of respect for me as a mother figure, even a half-assed one, then you’ll listen to me when I say—don’t. It’ll solve nothing and destroy everything.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I don’t know—maybe because your parents were killed by a vampire? Maybe because I watched a vampire break my mentor’s neck with a chain when I was your age? Or maybe because the same vampire who killed your parents just tried to kill you, less than a year ago? Personally, I think those are enough reasons.”
“Tess. Come on.” She glared at me. “You’re a hypocrite. You’re dating a guy who draws his power from corpses.”
“Vampires and necromancers are not the same thing.”
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br /> “Why? Necromancers are hotter?”
“This conversation is going nowhere.”
“My brother’s a vampire. It wasn’t his choice to get turned, either, but it was done to him. It’s made him who he is, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of, because there’s no shame inside of him. He’s happy, Tess. And he’s a vampire. You can’t do his laundry for him, pick up after him, treat him like your kid, and then say that all of his friends are bloodsucking half-lifes.”
“Your path isn’t going to be the same as his.” I put my hands on her shoulders. She tensed, but didn’t throw them off. “Patrick has the ability to live in sunlight. He can’t spend too long outdoors, but he can manage it for long enough to live a human life. If you were turned, you’d start smoldering the minute you walked outside.”
She shook her head. “That’s not totally true. Modred says there are, like, these artifacts that can protect a vampire from sun poisoning.”
“That’s a vampire urban legend. There are no artifacts that will protect a vampire from dying by sunlight. And it’s not like in Buffy. They burn for a long time before they actually die. It’s revolting. And, I imagine, excruciating, as it happens to you.”
“This is your scared-straight speech?”
“Yeah. How am I doing?”
“Pretty good, actually.” She laughed. “You do make some valid points.”
“So we can agree to disagree about this for a while?”
“I guess it would be more efficient to drop it,” she said. “At least for now.” Some of the tension had left her body. “But can we have a bit less vampire hating?”
“Agreed. We can even get a nice bumper sticker for the car.”
We kept walking, following the line of trees, until we came to the darkest thicket, where the Seneschal lived. I mean, he didn’t live in a thicket, per se. He lived in a small underground condo whose entrance was disguised by brambles.
“Why are we talking to the bird-guy again?”
“Because he may know something about what we found buried at the scene.”
“Patrick told me he’s like a Skeksi.”
“Do not say that to him.” I knocked on the door, whose outline I could barely distinguish from thorns. “Be polite.”
