by Sonya Clark
The heavy smell of old cooking grease coated the air in front of her building thanks to a food cart out front. Hayes stepped around a group of kids loitering on the step, briefly wondering when he’d started thinking of people in their late teens and early twenties as kids. One of the bigger boys eyed him in challenge. Hayes ignored him and opened the door. If she wasn’t home, he would sit in the hall and wait.
Every stair on the way up creaked. Sounds from televisions leaked easily through the walls, as did conversations, fights. He’d grown up in a small outpost rather than a big city, but he knew more than he wanted to know about close-quarters living, the sounds and smells of poverty, the hopelessness that lurked under the bravado of those kids on the front step. He might have been one of those kids, except for whatever it was inside that pushed him past the boundaries his birth should have forced him to accept. He’d always wanted more and he’d damned sure gotten it.
That old, familiar itch was tormenting him again. He missed the life he’d left home for, the action, the danger, the spice. His world had expanded when he ran away, then even more when he joined the military. But the best, most exciting time of his life had been the four years he’d spent as a Magic Ranger team leader. He could pretend all he wanted that Tuyet’s part in that had been just a coincidence of fate, both of them being assigned to the same team by faceless bureaucrats. That was far from the truth though.
Soft music emanated from her apartment. He listened for a moment before knocking. “It’s me, Snow.”
The door flew open faster than he expected. Tuyet glared up at him. “Why do you insist on calling me that?”
A pleasant warmth that had nothing to do with the late-summer heat wave spread through him. “Why do you insist on pretending you don’t like it?”
She had no snappy answer to that. “What do you want?”
If he only knew. “That’s a loaded question. Come on, don’t make me stand in the hall.”
A flush darkened her cheeks to a rosy gold. “Fine, whatever.” She backed away to let him walk through the door then closed it behind him.
The sound dock now sat on a small low table in the center of the room. It was flanked by two carved figures and a single lit candle. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were, uh, doing your church thing.”
“You know it’s not church,” Tuyet said kindly. “It’s okay, I was pretty much done.” She sat on the floor and blew out the candle, then packed away the figures in a small wooden box that went under the table.
Hayes sat opposite her, against the wall. “Do you still talk to the same spirit guides? The Enchantress of Numbers and the Madman of the Wires. I always liked those names.”
“Me too. I always thought it was strange that people outside Gehenna used the same names, the same guides. I guess even before trancehacking started to become more common, Magic Born were communicating somehow.”
He drew up his legs and rested his arms on his knees. “Ada Lovelace, the Enchantress of Numbers. The first computer programmer and daughter of Lord Byron. Do you still have that book of his poetry I gave you?” Tuyet’s quiet spirituality fascinated him. For some reason he liked it that she’d held on to it after all this time. Another thing he liked was the friendly ease with which she spoke to him now. It was unexpected, and reminded him of late nights spent talking with her about everything and nothing. He’d missed that, and the realization pierced him with a sudden lancing pain.
But he did kind of regret asking about that book. Now it was his turn to blush, feeling like a love-starved teenager.
Tuyet indicated the duffel next to the twin bed. “I keep it in my getaway bag.”
Well. Well. Hayes cleared his throat. Nervous laughter escaped. He ruffled his hair just to have something to do with his hands. “So. What do you say we skip the part where I hit on you and you pretend you don’t like it, and just—” The words dried up in his throat. Three years he’d waited for this moment. No, seven.
“Just what?” The husky quality of her voice sent shivers to all the right places.
“I’m open to suggestions.” He gave her his best smile, the one that earned him attention from beautiful women on a regular basis. He’d wielded that smile on her countless times and it had never worked.
Tuyet watched him for a long moment. The weight of her eyes raking over his body had him fighting the urge to squirm. Those eyes were lit up with amber sparks. Heat. Unmistakable desire. But she stayed where she was, because she would never act on it. Not after he’d turned her down on the stupidest night of his life. In all the time they’d worked together, he’d respected the secrets she’d shared with him, her need for distance, her pathological reluctance to admit her feelings. Then the one time she’d let her guard down, he’d blown it.
He didn’t want to blow it again. The clarity of that undeniable truth hit him square in the middle of all his confusion. It shone a light on things he’d kept in the dark for far too long.
“Snow.”
“Yes?”
He tapped his index finger on the floor at his side. “Come here.”
It was a risky gamble, skirting that close to an order. He’d tasted the bad side of her temper plenty of times, and his own blood when she took it out on him in training sessions. His face still bore tender spots from her punching him in greeting upon their reunion. Plus there was what she could do to him with magic. He was hoping that thoughts of all the sweet, delicious things he could do to her would sway her decision.
In a sinuous motion that made his pulse pound, Tuyet moved to all fours. Slowly, painfully slowly, she crawled to his side. Never breaking eye contact. She raised her left leg over his knees and settled on his lap, resting her arms on his shoulders and linking her hands behind his head. There was no hiding his arousal, especially when she pressed herself against it, all welcoming heat and softness.
She dipped her head close to his ear and whispered. “I guess I didn’t quite do what I was told, did I?”
Enough of his brain was still working that he recognized the warning in her tone. He shut his eyes and tried to think of something, anything, that would quell his raging hard-on. “I like it when you think out of the box.”
Tuyet gripped his hair and yanked his head back. He stifled a groan, and damn if his hard-on didn’t get worse. She said, “Don’t play with me, Dale.”
Grinning, he rested his hands lightly on her hips. “I think you’re the one that’s playing right now.”
“You’re right.” She nipped his Adam’s apple with her teeth, the brief, sharp taste of pain sending darts of electricity straight to his cock and eliciting a ragged sound he didn’t bother trying to suppress this time. “Sadly for you, I don’t have time for more.”
In a flash she was out of his lap and across the room, shrugging into a lightweight jacket. Both his brain and other, lower parts of his anatomy had whiplash. “You did that on purpose, you heartless tease.” But there was no anger in his voice, just frustrated laughter.
She curved her lips into a smile just as torturous as her earlier actions. “You walked right into it.” Snapping her fingers, she strode to the door. “I have a meeting, so you’re going to have to come back later.”
Hayes stayed right where he was. “We can’t leave things the way they are. We have to figure out what to do.”
“You’re not taking me in. We both know that, so let’s stop pretending.”
“Talbot’s getting impatient. We need to find a way out of this for both of us.”
“Tell him you can’t find me. Tell him I left the city. The country, even.”
That was a decent possibility, if he could make it believable. “He’ll want proof.”
“How about a postcard?”
“I’m serious. Look, you want to keep your freedom. I want...” He paused, not sure what he wanted or how to articulate it.
“I want out from behind a desk. There’s got to be a way we can both get what we want.”
She narrowed her eyes. “He said he’d get you off a desk if you brought me in.”
“We can figure this out if we work together. We were always good at that, working together. We made a good team.”
Tuyet checked the time on her phone. “I don’t want to be late. We’ll finish this later.”
He shot to his feet and waved his index finger. “Nope. Not happening. You don’t get to blow me off, Tuyet. This is serious business.”
“Keep trying to give me orders and see what it gets you.”
“Damn it, this isn’t about giving orders. It’s not safe for you here.”
“I’m a Magic Born living under a fake Normal ID. It’s not safe for me anywhere. Can we please talk about this later?”
“How long’s it going to take?”
She crossed her arms across her chest and refused to answer.
So that was how she wanted to play it, doling out her trust in small bites. Okay then. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Fine. You feel like telling me something, just give me a call. I’ll be at my hotel, watching TV and drinking the minibar dry.”
“Ah, don’t pout, Dale.” She winked. “It doesn’t suit you.” She opened the door and waved a hand through the opening. “You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.”
“Ha ha, very funny.” He withdrew his hands as he strode to the door, a small dot of nanofiber designed for eavesdropping gripped between his right index and middle fingers. He stopped in front of her, stroked her cheek with the fingers of his left hand as he snaked his right through her hair to press against her back. “Whatever it is you’re doing, be careful.”
All the teasing humor left her face, replaced by surprise and what might have been tenderness. Before she could say anything, he leaned over and brushed his lips over hers. The contact barely counted as a kiss but somehow seemed infinitely more erotic than her straddling his lap earlier. She raised up to press her mouth to his, her fingers tugging on the center of his shirt. Sensual promise layered over years of desire almost undid his resolve. He wanted nothing more than to say to hell with her meeting and everything else.
Tuyet pulled away. “I have to go. I’m sorry, Dale.”
He forced a smile, happy to feel it becoming real. She really was sorry—he could see it in her face. That was more than he’d expected. “No problem.”
“I’ll call you, I promise.”
He left the apartment. The app on his phone that went with the nanofiber bug he’d planted on her back worked perfectly. He walked back to his hotel listening over wireless earbuds.
Chapter Eleven
Blue Train was a trendy little jazz bar in Midtown full of university students and those who wished they still were. Tuyet winced at her reflection in the beveled glass that flanked the entrance. A braided leather bracelet with various types of polished stone and quartz interwoven in the pattern hid her real face. She should have destroyed the thing years ago, wasn’t even sure why she’d kept it. It was unlikely Hayes still had the matching bracelet.
The glamour was designed to create subtle differences rather than a radical departure from her appearance. It gave her lighter hair and skin, as if the Asian in her was a generation or two removed, along with hazel eyes and slightly plumper lips. It made her uncomfortable at first. Eventually it inspired the creation of a sort of game. For one job she crafted her cover persona a background with parents of German, Chinese and Canadian origin. For another, she gave herself a French-Vietnamese mother and an Irish father who made their home in Italy. Her most elaborate story involved a Ukrainian-Korean father who met his American witch wife when he pulled her out of the sea like a lost mermaid and nursed her back to health on his yacht. Silly fantasies, but it beat the hell out of growing up in an orphanage with no idea who her real parents were.
Tuyet sighed. She wasn’t here to mope.
After hearing about that video from Hayes, she knew she was crazy to still be using this bracelet. She’d established one of her identities here with it, though, and was reluctant to stop despite the fact that there were probably a dozen or so people from her Ranger days who might recognize Tina Jones. She just couldn’t let go. Not yet.
Jason had sent an image of Paula Miller to the darknet chat room the two of them used to communicate. Tuyet made her way through the crush of people until she spotted the young woman at a table for two along the wall. With smooth skin the color of roasted coffee beans, sharp cheekbones, pixie-short hair and deep-set brown eyes, Paula drew a lot of appreciative looks from both men and women in the club. Tuyet admired her sleek, fitted black jacket—real leather. It almost made her miss the days when she could get away with charging something like that to the Rangers for undercover work.
Tuyet mustered a smile and slid into the opposite seat. “Good to see you, Paula. How’s the band tonight? Have they played ‘My Favorite Things’ yet?” John Coltrane’s jazz version of the standard was the signal.
Paula carefully sipped her drink before replying. “Not yet but I hope they will soon.” She tried a faltering smile.
Tuyet nodded encouragement. “Is that one of their mango martinis? I hear that’s the house specialty here.”
“It’s very good. Would you like to order one?”
Tuyet flagged down a waiter. “You’re doing fine,” she said in a quieter voice. “Just relax.”
The waiter arrived to take her order and then disappeared quickly.
Paula rested her elbow on the table and leaned closer. “You would think I’d be better at this by now. The cloak-and-dagger stuff. I just can’t seem to get the hang of it.”
“It’s okay. This meeting isn’t a big deal.” That wasn’t exactly true, but Tuyet didn’t want to rattle the younger woman’s nerves any more than they already were. “Why don’t you tell me about school until my drink gets here.”
Paula complied, gradually loosening up as she spoke of classes and film theory and important documentary works of the past. Tuyet listened carefully, less for the words and more for a sense of Paula herself. What she found was a reasonably self-possessed if somewhat nervous young woman who was passionate about her calling, though a tad idealistic. She wanted to make a difference and believed her short films and interviews showing the truth of New Corinth could do just that. That is, if they could be widely disseminated.
“I get what you’re saying,” Tuyet said. “What I need to know is: What is your goal?”
“My goal? I thought that was clear.”
“You want your films seen by people outside of New Corinth. Okay, fine. Then what? What are you hoping people will do with what they learn?” Tuyet paused, searching for the right words to get her point across but not sound insulting. She couldn’t find them so she went for honesty. “Look. You’re a grad student. You look like you come from a nice upbringing. The people in Rockenbach and FreakTown—that’s not your world.”
Paula’s mouth settled into a hard line. “You think I’m a dilettante.”
“I think you mean well, but without a clear goal I don’t see a point to what you’re doing.” It was what she should have said to Jason, and about this meeting. Vague hope wasn’t going to help anybody, especially not the Magic Born inside FreakTown.
“Awareness is the point. No one knows what’s happening here because corporate media won’t cover it. Every time I upload a video, it’s blocked. And it’s taking them less time to do it now too. The last one was up for twenty-seven minutes. I got an email from my service provider this morning, cutting off my internet. That was the last email I got.”
“You’ve been using your own ISP for this? For real?”
“Of course not, I’ve used a proxy every time. I don’t know how they found me.”
Tuyet did. Durin
g her time in the Rangers she’d worked overseas assignments, but she knew other agencies had trancehackers dedicated to domestic surveillance. Once they knew they had a problem, all it took was the right spells and enough power to perform keyword searches that fast. Granted, it would take a hell of a lot of power, likely from more than one witch. If suppressing information about New Corinth was deemed a high priority though, it would get done.
Paula said, “You want to know what I want? What I really want?”
“Yes.”
“I want to be a mother one day. I’m not ready now, I know that. But I know I want a child of my own eventually. The way things are now, I could never risk it.” She paused, visibly working to get her emotions under control. “I want the Magic Laws gone. Everyone I know wants the same thing. We want to marry whoever we choose. We want to have children and not be afraid of them being taken away from us. I’m twenty-four and I don’t know a single person with a sibling. Not one that they know, at any rate. But I do know people who lost a loved one when the ordinance was passed. A lover, a friend. I understand why you think the people of Rockenbach and FreakTown aren’t my people, but you’re wrong.” She paused again to take a deep breath. “This is what I do. I know it’s not much, but I believe it could make a difference.”
Tuyet was used to dealing with tangibles. Missions that had clear objectives. Even now, much of her work for the underground was about concrete things like food, medicine, supplies—whatever FreakTown needed. She’d been so busy focusing on things like that, she’d never stopped to think about something as abstract as getting their stories out. The cynic in her didn’t believe it would make a difference.
But there was a part of her that was tired of being a cynic. Tired of chipping away at the mountain of crap that never seemed to get any smaller. They were losing the battles, at least in New Corinth. Maybe a crazy Hail Mary was what they needed.
Of course, Vadim would never consent to be interviewed. Tuyet couldn’t think of anyone in FreakTown who would. It was far too risky. She might be able to get some of the Normal protesters to talk to Paula. People who either hadn’t been beaten down by their own hopelessness yet or who were enraged by it rather than defeated.
