by Andy Hyland
“I see what you’re saying, but as soon as we slide we’d wind up in the middle of everything. Risky.”
“I agree. So I’m going to head over there and slide through,” I said, pointing over to our left. “Hopefully far enough away from the action, but I should still get a clear view.”
“And I’m doing what?”
“Nothing. Yet. I’ll report back, and we’ll come up with an amazing plan that can’t possibly fail or leave anyone dead.”
“Nice. I’m sold.”
“Knew you would be.” I jogged over, found a spot where I was out of the obvious eye line of everyone except a small kid in a pushchair, focused, and slid. I was getting better – only ten meters or so away from my original spot this time. I looked over near the fountain, froze, and sank slowly to one knee. This was worse than I thought. I knew they were here, but for Arabella to be so directly involved meant I’d screwed up and let her down badly.
The nearest one to me was twenty meters away, maybe a bit more. Too close, at any rate. An elongated body covered with large gray scales and occasional tufts of black hair. Long legs that curved in to give it a scuttling motion when it moved along the ground, and finesse and grace when it leapt or climbed. And a rodent’s head with red feral eyes, yellow curved hooks of teeth protruding from a stunted snout. Finally, the leather whip of a tail that hung poised in the air, swaying as if watching, dripping with poison.
Another one of them was over to the right, just beyond it. And another. And three more in the trees over there. The more my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, the more I could spot. Dozens. Hundreds. Molech had sent the entire bloody ratten horde to the veil.
I resisted the urge to step back and slide away. That would be profoundly sensible, but also rank cowardice. Arabella was here partly because I’d handled the last few days so badly. Partly, perhaps, because I’d handled her last few years so badly. Least I owed her was to get her back alive.
A group of humans were huddled by the edge of the fountain. Over here it had the same low rim, the same terraced structure, but the winged statue of the angel had been torn down. Four men, and one of them was kicking what was left of the angel’s head. I didn’t recognize any of them. No Valen, and no Arabella. Commotion on the far side now. The horde shifting, reorganizing, creating a channel along which stepped two figures. Arabella first, bound and beaten, hands behind her back. Valen following, shoving her, smiling. Must have her charmed in some way, to stop her being able to slide out of there.
“You’re late,” one of the men shouted out - a redhead with a snub nose and crooked teeth.
“You wanted her, you got her. Doesn’t mean I can’t make my point first, right lads?” He spoke these last words to the nearest rat, winking at it. He had nerve, I’d give him that. But sometimes stupidity looks a lot like nerve, and it’s much easier to deal with. “This was meant to be your special day,” he said to Arabella. “Full membership of the Association. But you chickened out, and now you’re a trophy for me to bring in. Can’t complain, though. You’ve made me look good, honey.”
“He’s going to be here soon,” said the redheaded guy, “so stick her over by the fountain and shut up.”
“As you wish,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. He cleared some rubble from the rim and forced Arabella to sit. “Move,” he told her, finger in her face, “and we’ll see what the boss’ll let us get away with before you die. I figure it’ll be a lot. He wants you to talk. Doesn’t matter if you can’t dance.”
I looked over the scene one final time, nodded to myself, and slid back. So very close to where I’d started. I was improving quickly. The kid in the pushchair was looking straight at me, pointing, gurgling to his mom. She was too busy on her phone to pay any attention. I waved and the kid smiled.
“Right, here’s the plan,” I said to Zack, spelling out exactly what was over there, and hopefully what we were about to pull off.
He nodded, considering the proposal, looking at it from all angles. “That’s mental,” he said finally.
“I’m open to ideas.”
“But I’m out of them. Ready?”
“You don’t want to prepare?” I asked. “It’s a big ask.”
“I’d like to prepare, yes, but what I’d really like to do is get this done with before their boss shows up, whoever that is.”
“Agreed. On three then?”
“Move back a bit. I want a run up.”
“We’ll get attention from this.”
He shrugged. “So bloody what?”
“Fine. Three.” We sprinted forward, taking each other’s hands, and slid. The veil let us pass easily and we hit Dark Manhattan’s cracked ground running. Bugger. Five meters too far to the left. That meant more ground to cover. Zack threw up a ward over the two of us while I started the fireworks, sending witchfire spirals careering out on all sides. The horde shrieked and hissed, but gathered themselves within seconds. That’s more than can be said for the humans, who’d hit the deck and were cowering, hands over their heads. Arabella looked up and her busted lips smiled.
The first rat slammed against us when we were halfway to the fountain. It bounced back but not before a claw had pierced the ward, tearing the sleeve of my coat. “Need some help,” Zack gasped. I stopped my other casts, which had done their shock and awe job, and were now no longer effective, and threw my magic into the ward as well. Three more rats hit, two from the side, and one leaping down from above. The ward held, but now there were at least a hundred heading our way.
“Faster,” I yelled, and we threw ourselves into one last burst. It was get to Arabella, or be completely overwhelmed.
We made it by a second, two at the most. I jumped at the same time as Zack, we grabbed an arm of hers each, and slid. The veil stretched, but held. For a long moment I feared that it was going to deny us transit and throw us back to the horde. But then, with a scream and an enraged psychic push on my part, we burst through into the sunlit sky of Earth, falling into the water of the original fountain.
I looked up, gasping for air, never happier to see an angel above me. Well, except for that one time. Maybe. “That was tough,” said Zack as he helped me up. We both grabbed Arabella, who was flapping about in the water, and pulled her out. “Never had trouble sliding like that before.”
Arabella coughed her guts out, then waved her wrists about behind her. They were bound by a rough silver cord. “It’s this damn thing. I couldn’t cast, couldn’t slide. It’s mage-proof.”
“Interesting,” I said, and meant it, “but we’re attracting a whole load of eyeballs here. Shall we?”
We jogged away from the fountain, cutting across the grass and avoiding the main routes, going east. “Cop to the right,” said Zack, and we veered left. We were soaking wet and dragging along a cut and bruised teenage girl who was also tied up. It didn’t look great, whichever way you came at it. Julie’s place was closest, and although we weren’t fit to be seen walking into a building like that, our options were limited.
“Arabella!” someone called out behind us. I looked over my shoulder. Nobody in sight.
“It’s Valen,” she said, looking worried. We moved faster. He’d have to be taken care of eventually, but right now I wanted Arabella out of harm’s way, and I didn’t want him to see where we were going. That could only lead to bad things. As far as I could tell he hadn’t laid eyes on us. The doorman at 310 Central Park West, quite understandably, made a point of standing in our way when we tried to enter the lobby.
“I’m sorry, sirs, madam,” he said, smiling but firm, “but I think you might have the wrong building here.”
“Dan, right?” I said. “I know Greg. We’re with Julie Fairchild.”
He looked unconvinced. “Perhaps you could give her a call and come back when you’ve had time to change.”
“I think Frank Fairchild understood that some situations don’t allow for that kind of flexibility,” I replied. Invoking the name of Frank and hinting at nefarious g
oings-on clearly struck some kind of chord in Dan. He nodded and tapped the side of his nose, getting out of the way. A quick elevator ride later, and we edged past the workmen putting a new door in place, and into Julie’s apartment. “Long story,” I told the guy nearest to me, holding a screwdriver.
“No worries,” he said with a strong Australian accent. “You wouldn’t believe the shit I’ve seen rich people get up to. Trust me, you guys are nothing to look at.”
Julie looked confused for a moment when she saw us, then raised her eyebrows and shrugged, beckoning us into the larger of the three bathrooms. The silver twine around Arabella’s wrists resisted every effort we made to cut or cast it off. The knot held some kind of confuscation charm – you’d get it half undone, then look again only to find out you’d re-tied it. Finally, Julie got tired of Zack and I fiddling and cursing, pushed us aside, and had the twine off in five seconds. “Immune,” she smiled sweetly, dangling the twine before throwing it in a drawer. “Handy for so many little things in life. Now, could the men please leave while we ladies make ourselves more presentable?”
We didn’t need to be asked twice, and headed for one of the other bathrooms to collect towels. For the next hour or so Julie dashed in and out across the living room, collecting clothes, shoes, and small packets and tubes that I assumed were make-up. The workmen finished up, bade us goodbye and headed off, sturdy new door now in situ.
Around three o’clock, Julie emerged, pulling behind her a young girl who looked a bit like Arabella, but not much. The blue denim was gone, replaced by black jeans and a blue T-shirt. The Mohawk, purple when we rescued her, was now a dark brown, and hung down the side of Arabella’s face, instead of jutting straight up. All in all, she looked younger, fresher, happier even. There was make-up covering the worst of the bruising, but apart from the swelling of the lips you wouldn’t know if you weren’t looking for it.
“Don’t say anything,” she said, scowling, but Julie was standing behind her and giving very pointed looks that gave different instructions entirely.
“You look good,” I said. “Not that I’ve got a problem with how you normally dress. But you’ve got to admit, you weren’t at your best when we grabbed you by the fountain.”
“Suppose so.”
“Come on,” said Zack. “Grab a coffee. We need to talk.”
She sat there holding the mug, eyes to the floor, looking like she was a kid about to be scolded. I cleared my throat. “This is my fault in a lot of ways. I tried to be too clever and I put you in a bad position.”
“Hold on,” said Julie. She pulled out her phone, tapped a few icons and put it on the table. “Carry on.”
“Like I was saying,” I continued, “I was trying to be too clever. Hold on, are you taping this?”
“Something to play back and keep me warm on those cold winter nights.”
Arabella laughed. Couldn’t help herself.
“Fine,” I said. “Look, you ended up where you did because I wasn’t looking out for you like I should have been. And I’m sorry.”
Julie nudged Arabella. “Apology accepted,” she said, looking up.
“What happened, anyway?” asked Zack gently.
“After Malachi saw me at that warehouse…doing that to the old guy, I started thinking about things. That maybe what I was doing wasn’t so much fun after all. And the money was good, but…there are other things, you know? I talked about it to Valen. That’s when he started hitting me.”
“Damn it,” shouted Zack, standing up kicking the chair.
She carried on, getting it all out there. “He made me do one more job with him. Young guy this time. Never knew what he did. I hurt him, and then Valen talked to him afterwards. I made some excuses, said I had stuff to do. And then I ran. Found Malachi down by Becky’s, but…you didn’t have time, or something. Whatever. They found me soon after that. Used that silver cord. Valen took it personally. Orders came down that I was going to be made an example of. Think you got to me just in time.”
I had my head down, hands grabbing my hair. “I’m sorry,” was all I could manage. “There was stuff going on, but I’m sorry.”
“No problem. It’s in the past.”
“You ever see the boss?” Julie asked. “Anyone above Valen?” Arabella shook her head. Julie looked at me. “She can stay here. Probably best she doesn’t go anywhere they know about. I’ve got some more clothes. She can help me get the place fixed up.”
I thought about it, but shook my head. “I’ve been through stuff like this before. Best thing you can do is stay active. Do some good stuff to balance out the shit.”
“That’s not helpful,” said Julie, frowning, but Arabella was nodding.
“I’d like that,” she said.
“Let’s get moving, then,” said Zack.
“No, just me and her,” I said. “You stay here. I reckon there are more than a few runes around this apartment. We need to know what they do, if they’re active, and how to activate them if they’re not.” He was about to argue but I gave him a warning look. He took the hint.
“Saddle up,” I told Arabella. “Let’s go make the world a better place.”
Chapter twenty
My phone buzzed as we left the building. Julie was texting furiously. The words ‘stupid’, ‘careless’, and ‘reckless’ featured heavily. ‘Moron’ was used more than once. I turned the phone off. She was right, in a way, but she didn’t understand. Arabella’s conscience had woken up after a long sleep and was repeatedly kicking her in the guts. You couldn’t hide from that. All you could do was create distance. Distance by good things. Julie didn’t get this, and would hopefully never have to.
“Where are we going?” asked Arabella. She was striding along beside me, hands in pockets and her head held low. Julie had loaned her a hoody, so her hair and face were mostly covered.
“Over the river. Queens. Cop got beaten up and threatened after seeing the wrong thing. We need to convince him that telling us about it is a good thing.”
“What if it was us?” she asked quietly. “What if it was me that did it?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But don’t flatter yourself. There were teams like you out all over town this week. Plenty of people needed silencing. I can’t make you come, but I think you should.”
“In case you need him…persuaded again?”
I stopped and turned to her, taking her arm. “No. We’re not hurting him. There’s more than one way to skin a cat. Sorry, not the best phrase to use.”
“But if we’re not hurting him,” she said, confused, “then what do you need me for?” And my heart broke a little.
“You’re more than you think you are. More than what we’ve asked of you. Consider yourself now in training. Hang with me, watch me. There’s a time for kicking ass, and a time for talking and thinking. You can do all of that. It’s a case of knowing what works best when. You ready, my young apprentice?”
That got a smile. I waved down a cab, and we jumped in.
Queens all looks the same to me. We could have been a few streets from old Larry Dialgo’s place, or we could have been miles from it. I’d never know. Ray Jenkins lived in a slim pale pink wooden house. Garden tended, wood freshly painted, flowers in the downstairs window. Through one of the upstairs windows a child’s nightlight threw slowly circling stars and moons up onto the ceiling.
“Nice place,” said Arabella. I remembered her own apartment. Wondered what her home had been like before death half-dragged her into the world of the Aware and screwed everything up.
“Nice guy, by all accounts. The sort of cop we need more of. Let’s see if we can get in. Pull your hood down. Smile. No, not like that. Smile less.”
I knocked on the door, and waited politely, shoulders back, hands clasped. Arabella looked over and mimicked by body language. We must have looked like Mormons going door to door.
His wife answered. Blonde curls and scared eyes. Understandable. “Hi,” I said. “I’m a fri
end of Ray’s. From work. I heard about what happened, was in the neighborhood, wanted to come past and see how he is.” She looked unconvinced. “I know it’s a bad time. Any time’s a bad time after what you’ve been through. I want him to know he’s not alone in this.”
“That would be nice,” she said, almost to herself. “He’s not saying much. Hasn’t since it happened. But it would be good if he saw someone.”
“May we come in, then?” I asked, when after a few seconds she still hadn’t opened the door beyond a crack. She looked at me again. If I was alone I don’t think she’d have gone for it, but having Arabella with me swung the scales.
“Sorry, yes, please, he’s through there, in the back. Can I get you some coffee?”
She headed off to the kitchen while the two of us went through the hallway into a living room at the rear of the place. Crayon pictures were taped to the walls, and toys and bits of toys lay scattered on the floor. A pile of unironed clothes, half sorted through, stood in the corner. It was a home – a real home, not like the ones you see on TV. Ray sat in a chair in the corner, one arm in plaster, legs under a blanket. His face was blank, eyes staring straight through us.
“It wasn’t me,” Arabella whispered with relief. “I’ve never seen him. It wasn’t me.”
“Ray,” I said quietly, crouching down right in front of him. “Ray, can you hear me.” His eyes flickered, darting towards me, then away again. He was in there, but he was terrified. “Ray,” I said, pulling a coin out of my pocket, “I need you to watch this, just for a second.” I tossed it in the air, throwing a mesmer at him at the point of distraction. When the coin landed in my palm, I had him.
“Ray, I need you to know that you’re not in danger. You’re safe here, completely safe. We’re going to go back to the day you saw what you saw, what you tried to tell everyone about. I know it’s hard, but we’re right here with you, so stay strong.”
He nodded, and took a deep breath. “It wasn’t far from here – five blocks. A kid Annie knew – she’s my eldest – a kid in her class got taken. I waited for the area to get mobilized, but nobody did anything.” Confusion passed across his face. “I stamped, I jumped, I shouted, but it was being swept under the carpet. They didn’t say that, but I knew. You see these things, you know the signs. Back off, they told me. I thought, they won’t help, fine, I’ll deal with it myself. Went looking. Sweeping the area by myself. Took time, but you have to, right?”
