by Sonya Clark
Tuyet pulled the phone out of her pocket. “Got something fun for you to play with.”
“I may have something for you too, but I’m not sure what to make of it.”
“That sounds ominous.” She pointed at the steaming cup in his hand. “Got another one of those?”
Ten minutes later they sat on his glassed-in, climate-controlled balcony. Jason said, “It’s been slow going, but I may have finally found some help.”
For over a year Jason had been carefully, slowly approaching members of the highest and wealthiest echelons of New Corinth society. But not just anyone, only people like himself—Magic Born with false DNA tests bought by their families. He didn’t reveal the truth of his status. Instead, he was open about his support for the Magic Born cause and looked for anyone like-minded. So far he’d had no luck. After Lizzie lost everything and was sent to live in the zone, people weren’t willing to take the chance of being discovered.
Jason said, “What do you know about the internet firewall around the city?”
Tuyet shrugged. “It’s basically the same stuff that’s everywhere, just intensified here since the ordinance. Providers block content. Search results are censored. The usual.”
“Social networks barely function anymore. I’m pretty sure my email is being monitored.”
“Well, yeah. After Lizzie’s big coming out party, I’d say that’s a safe bet for all of—” She paused, clearing her throat to cover the stumble. “A lot of people are probably being monitored.”
“His patients.” Jason stared out the glass enclosure.
John Beckwith had been a wealthy, powerful man, but even he hadn’t been able to protect his wife, Isabelle, from a devastating nervous breakdown after losing their first child to the Magic Laws. When he learned he could buy a fake DNA test if necessary from Dr. Alan Forbes, who ran the local DMS clinic and regional testing facility, Beckwith convinced his wife they could have another child to replace the daughter who’d been taken to live in the zone. And so they did—a son they named Jason, who as it turned out did need a fake test. What they hadn’t counted on was Forbes eventually blackmailing an adult Jason into serving as a test subject in magic experiments. Ultimately Jason snapped under the pressure and accidently killed the doctor. The crime was investigated by then-police-detective Nate Perez, who fell in love with a witch who had her own secrets to uncover: Calla Vesper, who was born Grace Beckwith.
Tuyet knew that Jason bore a tremendous amount of guilt over what he’d done. Guilt was something she knew how to recognize. She knew the shadows it cast in a person’s eyes, the hollow tone it added to laughter. It carved out pieces of you and left them scattered around for you to stumble on when you least expected it.
“It’s out there now,” Tuyet said. “That people with the means could buy freedom for their Magic Born infants. So, yes, I think anyone who was a patient of his and came from money is probably under surveillance. You need to be careful, Jason.”
He cut his eyes toward her for a moment before returning to staring at the building across the street. “Duane told you someone made the accusation.”
“Was it just random or did something happen?”
“I have money. That’s all it takes for the accusation to be leveled at you. Have you heard of Hewson Capital Management?”
“It’s a hedge fund.” She made a face. “Please don’t ask me about hedge funds.”
Jason smiled wanly. “Hewson and his family left for London a few days ago. Vacation supposedly, but there’s a rumor going around that someone accused him of being Magic Born. Not only that, but the story I heard was that his lawyer just barely managed to quash a warrant for a blood test.”
“Leaving makes him look guilty.”
“He probably is. Possibly one or both of his two kids, too.” Few families risked having more than one child—not that many could afford to even without taking the Magic Laws into consideration. Decades of economic sanctions had taken a deep toll on the economy. “I’m betting he’s moved money overseas, as well.”
“Have you done that? Just in case.”
“My father threw himself off a high-rise building and took the blame for killing Forbes so I would be safe. Call me selfish if you want, but I’m not throwing away the last thing he ever gave me. No matter how screwed up it was.”
“It’s not selfish to want to be free.”
“Then what the hell are we still doing here?” Jason placed his cup on the small table between their chairs. “We could both walk away at any time, but we don’t.”
“Maybe we feel like we need to earn it.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Maybe we do.”
A change in subject seemed in order, before they both got maudlin. “You said you might have something for me.”
Jason sat forward, some of the darkness in his expression lifting. “It’s not the kind of help I was looking for, but we might be able to do something with her. She’s why I was asking about the firewall.”
“Who is ‘she’?”
“A grad student at the university. She knows Shawn and she approached me, very cautiously, I might add, I think because it’s common knowledge I’m a Magic Born supporter.”
“Is she like you?”
“No, she’s a Normal. She wants to be a documentary filmmaker. Before the ordinance she did pretty innocuous projects, mostly short films about local artists. Now she films the protests. She’s interviewed a few people and would like to talk to more. People who want their kids back.”
Tuyet had been sitting too long. Her nerves were coiling into a tight spring again. She left the chair to stand with her back against the glass wall, facing Jason. “The media won’t report what’s happening here. I know a few people have filmed the demonstrations but they can’t get the videos out.”
“They can’t.” Jason smiled. “What about you?”
She had more innate skill at trancehacking than either Beckwith sibling or even Vadim, who was one of the best untrained she’d encountered. The only witch better at it than her she’d ever met was Halif Osman. It wasn’t arrogance to acknowledge how good she was. She simply had a gift and had worked hard to use it to its full potential. Ranger training had taken her farther than she ever would have gone on her own, a truth that didn’t sit so well with her.
As good as she was, even she had her limits. “I can get stuff past the security but sooner or later it’s going to run into more. I’ve already seen evidence that anything with keywords related to New Corinth is being blocked in other cities. The best I can do amounts to nothing but a drop in the ocean.”
“Can the rest of the underground help?”
“They are helping, with food and supplies. Look, I get it. You think seeing what’s happening here would spur action across the country. I’m not opposed to the idea but I don’t know how to get the information out. Not in a meaningful way.”
“What do you mean by meaningful?”
“I mean in the way that mass media refuses to cover it. In the way social media would spread videos and photos, if they weren’t scrubbed almost as fast as they were uploaded. And it’s not just New Corinth. Nobody outside of Cleveland knows how bad it is in Gehenna. How the violence and the drugs spill over into Normal communities, how the two sides feed off each other in this sick symbiotic relationship of hatred.” Tuyet stopped abruptly. “I guess that’s any city with a zone.”
“I don’t know how to solve the problem of mass distribution but I still think you should meet with this woman. Take a look at some of her films. Her name is Paula Miller.”
“Why do you think this is so important?”
“My father had some stuff locked up in his office that maybe he shouldn’t have. I don’t know. It had to do with his work on the Magic Affairs Committee.” The elder Beckwith had been a U.S. senator. “A bunch of documen
ts. Reports, some practically book-length. I found a lot of stuff about the earliest days of the Magic Revelation, right after hacktivists dumped a bunch of documents that proved magic existed and the government had known since the days of the Founding Fathers.” Jason grinned. “Apparently George Washington had a witch on retainer and would have her do all sorts of divination before battles or troop movements.”
“No kidding?”
“He had her brought to Valley Forge to read tea leaves.”
Tuyet said, “A mamasan at the orphanage in Gehenna taught me to read signs in city elements. Find a sign in neon, another in concrete or maybe steel. Music or crowds. Tech. Then figure out what it all means together.”
“Were you any good at it?”
The strongest divination she’d ever done had been under the influence of nightshade. Still in her teens, trancehacking abilities not yet discovered by a Ranger scout. She’d walked the streets at night. Flashes of blue eyes came to her in a neon sign that spelled out Live Nude Girls. The shelter of a bus stop in pouring rain transformed into the safety of strong arms. Different kinds of music rolling out into the streets from various bars and clubs painted a picture of a dance: first timid, then like a secret too big to keep, followed by anger, followed by things she didn’t have the words for. Random, unfocused trancehacking presented abstract images of black and silver, speed and escape.
“No,” Tuyet lied. “I wasn’t any good at it.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said with a good-natured smile.
She ignored him. “What was in those files that got your interest?”
“Not any one thing, or even anything specific. More like the picture all that history painted. The government really did try to keep a lid on things when hacktivists revealed us. They did a shitty job, but they tried. The problem was that they tried to deny it for too long and public opinion got away from them. The people who feared us, feared magic—they were the ones who controlled the public narrative. And many of them were powerful.”
Tuyet returned to her chair, sitting sideways to face him. “I think I get where you’re going with this—I’m just not sure it would do any good.”
“I don’t know either, but I think it’s worth a try. Facts and statistics don’t matter. The people on the other side, the Brice Jennings of the world, are more than willing to substitute their own version of facts for the truth. All we have to counter that is our stories. The truth of our lives. What we go through every day, being separated from the people we love because of the ordinance. Couples falling apart because of losing a child to the Magic Laws. The reasons behind the anger that leads people to set fires and throw rocks at cops. If we can tell our stories, find a way to get the story of New Corinth out, maybe it’ll make a difference.”
“I’ll see if I can figure something out.” It sounded good in theory, but it also ran up against the wall of her cynicism. The last time she’d opened up that wall was to help a witch escape with his Normal lover—Brice Jennings’s wife. Jennings reacted by pushing for the ordinance that locked up FreakTown.
“Could you also help her get interviews? With people inside the zone?”
She wanted to say no but something stopped her. “Set up a meeting and I’ll talk to her. Can you get me copies of some of the stuff she’s already filmed?”
Jason smiled as he withdrew a thumbnail-sized glass storage drive from his shirt pocket. “Here’s some of her best work.”
Tuyet took the drive. “I can’t guarantee anyone in FreakTown will agree to be interviewed. That’s a huge risk.”
“She’s quite proficient at hiding the identities of the people she interviews.”
“It’s the blowback to all of FreakTown that worries me.”
“I know. Talk to Vadim. See what he thinks.”
She nodded. “Let’s go over how to work the phone I brought you.”
They went through the information quickly, Tuyet working on autopilot. Jason was tilting at windmills with his idea of getting footage from New Corinth out to the wider world in a way that would make a difference. She should have told him no, gently but firmly shut him down. So why didn’t she?
Maybe because she’d tilted at a similar windmill for years, trying to convince Hayes to think for himself instead of following orders.
Maybe because part of her wanted to take one last run at it.
Chapter Nine
2060
Tuyet stared at the spelled bracelet. “I’m not comfortable with this.” Not that she wanted to admit why.
Gibson cocked an eyebrow. “Since when does that matter? The job requires a couple. You and Channing are it.”
“Why not Halif? We work well together.” She knew the answer but thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask anyway.
“We don’t send two Magic Born out on a mission like this. You know that.” Annoyance bristled in the warrant officer’s voice. “Am I going to have a problem with you, Caron?”
“No.” It was Channing who was the problem, but he knew better than to let that side of himself show around Gibson. Tuyet lifted the bracelet from its box. Made of braided black leather and polished stones and quartz pieces, it sat cold in her palm, humming with untapped energy.
“Good. Briefing’s in ten minutes.” Gibson left the lounge right as Channing entered.
Tuyet shoved the bracelet in her pocket and swallowed her disgust.
“So it’s you and me on this one.” Channing sat in the middle of the sofa, far too close for Tuyet’s comfort. “Mr. and Mrs. Jones. That should be interesting.”
She studied him for a long moment. He was classically handsome with dark hair and a friendly smile. Got along with everyone for the most part, did his job fairly well. Nothing special jumped out about him, but nothing bad did either. It was the eyes that gave him away. She’d known other men with eyes like his, a cold flat darkness that sent the wrong kind of shiver up her spine. She made a point of never being alone with him, and now she had to pretend to be his wife. “It’s just another job,” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say to him.
“It should definitely be more fun than usual.” He ran one finger up and down the outside of her thigh.
The skin beneath her slacks crawled and she had to tamp down a burst of nausea. Show no fear had been the rule when dealing with men like him in Gehenna. She gripped his wrist with two fingers and dropped his hand into his lap. “Act like a professional or I will report you.” With calm, deliberate steps, she stood and made her way to the door.
Channing laughed. “You really think Gibson will believe you over me?”
Tuyet knew it was best to ignore him but she didn’t like the dismissive way he said the warrant officer’s name, even though she knew he was also right. Gibson wouldn’t listen to her. “Probably not.” She paused in the doorway and turned to meet that cold, flat gaze. “But Hayes would.” She let that be the last word on the matter and left.
The briefing was even more tense and uncomfortable, but she got through it. For the most part she focused on Hayes, taking notes as he gave the details of the mission. He spoke without his usual flair, as if heavily distracted. Losing his place, forgetting things. Several minutes were lost as he searched files on his tablet for information he would normally have committed to memory. At one point their eyes met and he seemed to forget what he was doing entirely. Tuyet looked away, warmth climbing her cheeks.
At that point he went from distracted to angry. Tuyet kept her eyes on her tablet and waited for the briefing to end.
Tension drained from her body as soon as she crossed the threshold into her quarters. She slumped against the door and rubbed her eyes. The briefing had run over so long she had just enough free time before physical training to change clothes and make it to the gym. She always looked forward to the workouts but this time she needed it more than usual. T
he desire to hit something, hard, made her palms itch and her feet restless. Energy ping-ponged through her body and she had to ground to keep the excess from wreaking havoc with the electronics in the room. She changed quickly, pulling her hair into a ponytail. The bracelet was left on her dresser, still cold. She had no desire to know what Mrs. Jones looked like.
“Hey!” Halif jogged to catch up with her in the long hallway that led to the gym. “What was that all about with Hayes back in the briefing room?”
Tuyet shrugged. “How should I know?”
He gave her a skeptical look. “Come on, it’s me. Don’t play like that.”
“I’m not playing like anything. I don’t know what his problem is.” She boosted into a fast walk and reached the gym door first. “You guys are friends—you ask him.”
“I did,” he said as he followed her into the gym. “He told me to mind my own business.”
“So maybe you should.”
The other three team members were already there. Gibson was running laps around the perimeter with another warrant officer. Channing stood at the far end, talking to Rangers from other teams currently between assignments. Hayes was off by himself, beating the hell out of a heavy bag. Tuyet watched him as casually as possible, glad his back was to her. He put everything he had into those hits, plus a large helping of rage that didn’t suit him.
Halif touched her elbow, pointing at one of the small rings with his other hand. “You up for sparring?”
She nodded. “Just be warned, I’m in the mood to put some hurt on.”
They strode to the ring together. “Maybe you need to be in the ring with Channing. Let him know what’ll happen when he crosses the line.”
“When?” Probably accurate, but it surprised her that Halif would admit it.
“I may be a guy but I’m still a witch. Let’s just say he doesn’t feel the need to be on his best behavior in front of me like he does Hayes and Gibson.”
Tuyet didn’t ask for details. She began her usual stretching routine, a combination of yoga and tai chi, and tried to empty her head of thoughts about the next mission. Halif was right. With Channing, it was a question of when, not if. The two of them alone on an isolated mission, posing as a married couple—to him it would practically be a gold-plated invitation to cross the line. She would just have to shove him back across it and hope it didn’t land her in a cell. It was pretty much a given that he would lie if she had to hurt him.
