by Alana Melos
“That would be a neat trick since we have to find him,” Alistair said.
I handed the paper to him and glanced to Rebekah and Kiandra, both of whom had fallen silent as Alistair and I spoke. “He’s fucked with me once too often,” I said. “And he won’t let up. He’s going to be that asshole that just keeps fucking with us, time and time again. I’m not going to play that game.”
“I’m not disputing that,” Alistair said as he looked over what I’d written. “What I’m disputing is our ability to find him, and put a stop to this. We don’t have any of his possessions or hair or….” He trailed off and closed his eyes. “But we don’t need that because he’s in Adira.”
“Bingo,” I said, rolling my eyes. For being so smart, sometimes he was slow as hell.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, then lowered his hand. “This looks Aramaic, I’d say,” he said, rattling the sheet. “And it looks complete.” Alistair looked through the package’s various contents of wrapped mini-parcels and bottles again quickly. “And there’s a list, but it’s partial. That will slow him down even further. We have time to plan.”
“Small favors,” I said with a sigh. The anger within me never quite left, but it went back to bubbling under the surface, keeping me motivated without acting rashly. It was a delicate balance. “He’ll have guards and shit with him, and I’m assuming we’ll have to get past some protective wards, that we can’t just ‘poof’ appear.”
“That’s likely,” Alistair agreed.
“So, we’ll need power,” I said looking to Kiandra, who had already begun shaking her head.
“We would love to help! Love it!” She waggled a finger at me like a displeased mother might do. “But the Caesar has an agreement, yes? Yes! We cannot simply invade like that, even though we hate Nazis!” She spat on the ground the second after that word left her mouth.
“Of course,” I said, tasting the bitter words. “I hadn’t expected otherwise.” I’d hoped, but not expected it. “We’re going to get some reinforcements from Prime.”
“How?” Rebekah asked, frowning.
“I’m sure Alistair can send a message, and they can find their way across,” I said. “There’s plenty of mages who can cast the spell, right? Refer them to some of your colleagues.”
“Who?”
“Rory, and whoever else he can dig up,” I supplied. “He’s been around enough that he knows people now.”
“Shouldn’t take long if it’s possible,” Alistair mused. “It may take longer for them to come across. What if we’re too late?”
“So we put a timeframe on it,” I said, getting weary that I had to answer all these stupid questions. It seemed so damn obvious to me. “We attack in so many hours with or without reinforcements.”
“Any help you need that we can do, is yours,” Kiandra said, her bubbliness only barely diminished by the serious conversation. “We have room! We have weapons!” She grinned. “We have a very keen fashion sense.”
As stupid as it was, I had to smile at that. “Any help would be appreciated,” I told her. Especially since this is helping them too, I thought to myself at the same time. It just figured that once again, I was doing the dirty work and someone else would reap the benefits alongside me, born on the fruit of my labors.
I turned to Alistair. “What do you think would be a reasonable amount of time to attack before they have the ability to knock down the barrier? Assume he’ll have apprentices or lackeys to help.”
Alistair frowned as he thought it over. “At least a week, I would say,” he replied. “It won’t take long to decipher the text, but finding the materials and strengthening the spell will take much longer.”
A week still wasn’t much time. “Alright, so we’ll attack in three days. Say seventy-two hours exactly. That’ll give Rory enough time to find what he needs and maybe scrape up some reinforcements.”
“That’s not enough time to be successful,” Alistair said.
“Why are you fighting me on this? Arguing with me isn’t going to help.” My frustration needed a vent. He was closest.
“I’m not fighting you,” he said, standing and gathering the materials before him. “I’m saying that it probably won’t be successful.”
“Have I ever lost yet?” I asked. When he opened his mouth, I added, “Don’t answer that.”
Smirking, the sorcerer inclined his head and departed. I left as well, towards the direction of the room they’d given me, not bothering to say bye to the two who remained. Tired of all this shit and drained, I contemplated ignoring it all and going back home, retiring early. The thought was tempting, but not satisfying. I needed something else. I wouldn’t be content until I’d found it.
I drew up short as Rebekah shadowstepped out of the darkness right in front of my door. “Can we talk?”
“If you want to,” I said, “but move out of the way, please?”
She stepped to the side and I opened the door, peering in first to see if anyone was present. Nope. It appeared the place was still mine, at least for the moment. “Come on in. What do you want?”
“That’s… very to the point,” she said, her voice sounding unhappy. I shrugged off my jacket as she closed the door. “Are you sure this is smart? If Alistair finds Richter, we could probably sneak in now.”
I shook my head. “We had that thought when we went to rescue you, and we got busted,” I replied. “He’d set a trap for us, I’m sure. How he knew we were coming… well, he’ll probably still know. Better to go in with bigger guns than try to sneak again.”
“Thank you for that,” she said. “The, uh, rescue, I mean.”
I glanced at her gloved right hand. “I’m sorry it was too late.” When I looked up to her face again, she frowned. “I thought that would be gone?”
The question, for all of how obvious it was, took her by surprise. She shook her head rapidly, her short blond locks bouncing as she did. “They tried. It can’t. Be removed.” The words were staccato as she forced them out.
“At least you’ve got your hand back?” I half said, half asked. From her expression, I knew she was upset about it, and I only vaguely understood why. It seemed an invasion, though I thought I’d be happy enough getting a hand back after it’d been chopped off.
“I don’t want it,” she said as she sat down hard on one of the overstuffed elaborate chairs in the room. “Alistair and some other doctor tried, but every time they tried to take it off, to sever it, it hurt. Not just hurt, but… hurt. Me. It hurt me.” She looked up at me, her aqua eyes filled with messy tears. “It’s attached to my life or chi or whatever they call it.”
I sat down on the bed, opposite her, striving to understand. “If you can’t change it, you’re going to have to accept it.” There. That seemed a reasonable response.
“How can I?!” she burst, standing up to stride around the room. “It’s a constant reminder! It’s this… this thing! It’s a leech! A parasite! A chain around my neck!”
I leaned back at the sudden outburst and watched her pace the room. When I glimpsed her face as she walked back and forth, her cheeks were flushed and wet with tears, yet the expression was of anger and frustration. Those two emotions I understood all too well.
“You can’t change it,” I stressed. “Maybe it’ll just take some time.” Rebekah paused long enough to give me a glare, and I held my hands up. “Hey, I’m just stating the truth. If you want to be crippled, more power… well, less power to you. But if it can’t be done, then you’ll just have to live with it.”
She stopped her striding and looked at me again. “It’s a constant reminder,” she said, stressing the words with soft finality. “Of everything. I can’t put it away. I can’t not look at it. I feel it. I feel the wires and magic inside my arm, buzzing, like electric lights.” She waved her natural hand towards the lamps in the room. “It’s always there.”
I had only the vaguest idea of her childhood, but I knew it was bad. She’d seen and done horrific things to survive,
and it seemed denial was her defense of choice against the PTSD. With the mechanical hand attached to her stump being put there by the one who’d changed her, denial wasn’t open for her anymore.
“You have to accept it, one way or another,” I said. “I’m sorry it happened. We weren’t fast enough. But it did, and now you have to find a way to live with it until you can do something about it. That’ll take time.”
She wiped her tears away with the back of her natural hand, nodding and deflating at the same time. Her mood switches gave me whiplash. “I know,” she whispered. “I … I don’t know. I just wanted….”
I stood up and approached her. Powerful or not, I couldn’t sense her intentions and if she wanted to explode my head with a punch at this range, I probably wouldn’t be able to stop her. With a slow and careful motion, I put my hands on her shoulders. She tensed, but relaxed afterwards. She trusted me. I trusted her back. Now realizing how rare it was to find people you could actually trust, I didn’t want to disturb that. Being gentle and reassuring was out of my wheelhouse, but I’d give it a try.
“We’ll get it taken care of,” I said, trying to sound soft and comforting. “But I can’t let you fall apart now. You’re one of my heavy hitters and we have to get Adira back.” I paused, “It’ll give you a chance to get some revenge, and maybe asshole mage has got some notes on the, uh, thing. It might give Alistair and the other doctor types some ideas on how to remove it.”
Her blue-green eyes widened and she nodded, turning from sad to enthusiastic in a second. “You’re right! I never thought of that!” The Siren flung her arms around me and gave me a rough hug. I patted her back with an awkward gesture. It was funny. I could fuck all I wanted and not have a problem with touch, but add in a real emotional component, and suddenly I turned all butterfingers.
After a few seconds, I pushed her away with a gentle shove. She got the message and backed up, smiling all the while like the sun. Ah, well. It was better than her being moody.
“Thank you,” she said. “I will let you alone now. I know you have things to plan and need sleep.”
I nodded and watched her walk to the door. “Hey, Rebekah?”
“Yes?” she asked, turned as she opened the door to regard me.
“Why do you want to keep the stump so much anyway? As a hand to hand fighter, that can’t help but to fuck up your style.”
The diminutive woman smiled, shrugging as she did. “It was a choice I made, a decision which left me a scar… and when I glanced down at it, I remembered how brave I was, and how we didn’t give up, and that I did it for a good cause: my friends.”
I wanted to tell her ‘yeah, but it still screws you up’, but held my tongue and nodded. “Alright, uh, have a good night.” When she left, I shook my head. Keeping a scar as a reminder was one thing. Not getting your hand grown back for a reminder was crazy. Eh, but then who was I to talk about crazy?
Chapter Seventeen
“I heard you needed a hand,” Rory said as he stepped through the fiery portal. Dressed in a leather biker’s jacket and jeans, he was a tall, cool, green drink of water on a hot day. In other words, it was nice to see someone dressed normal again instead of all expensive suits and over elaborate dresses. These Italians might have had style, but everything got boring if you choked on it long enough.
“Could have been here a little sooner,” I admonished him, but gently. We only had a couple hours left to go in my timeframe, and he had come. I waited for a second to see who else would step through the portal connecting the two dimensions, then frowned, wondering why we couldn’t just walk through now.
“I wouldn’t try it,” Alistair cautioned as if reading my mind. “Trust me when I say her spell is intact and one way.”
“It was worth a thought,” I grunted, looking past Rory still. “No one else? Just you?”
“No,” he said, turning around and frowning at the portal. “Ah, Christ, come on and get a wiggle on.” The last was directed to someone I couldn’t see. The space in the middle of the fire circle was muddy, like a mirror which had been dashed with dirty water. The science-y portals I’d seen had all been silver and pure, beautiful. This was ugly and dark. I supposed it was the spell’s doing which, in that case, it was nice for Baba Yaga to warn people not to fuck with it. Maybe it was a side effect. Maybe it was just because it was magic and not science. I could ask, but I didn’t care that much about the answer.
When the next guy stepped through the portal, I groaned in annoyance. At the same time, Rebekah squeaked in pleasure and rushed forward, throwing her arms around a skinny Asian guy who stood dressed in a black tank top and red mid-thigh length shorts.
“Lee!” she exclaimed.
“Lee,” I said in a subdued voice.
“S’up, babes? Heard you needed a real man around here,” he said, giving her a quick hug back. He didn’t even cop a feel, so that was something. Maybe he’d grown up.
“Yeah, Rory’s already here,” I said, peering through the muddy mirror.
“Plant wolf can suck my dick,” he said. “Wait, no, he’s not good enough to suck my--”
“Cut it,” I snapped. “You know why you’re here, right? Life or death situation? Nazis getting the potential to invade our home? Again?” Third time? Fourth? Who could keep track?
“Hey, I’m here and I’m helping, so step off my nuts!” he exclaimed. A burst of cold erupted from him, causing me to take my eyes off the portal and look at him. A faint white aura surrounded him as he bristled.
“You’re right,” I said, swallowing my pride as I reminded myself he was here to help. “Just… ease up on the… wanna be street punk thing, alright? It’s been a trying few days.” When he grunted and flipped me off, I took that for an acquiescence. “Was that everyone, Rory?”
“No, one more,” he said as he dropped an arm around me. I glared at him, and he took it off with a hands up motion. “Sorry. You really are tense.”
“It’s Richter,” I said. “He’s pissing me off.”
He raised a deep green brow and gave me a piercing look. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with Adira?”
I shuffled my feet and resumed looking at the portal. “That too.”
“It’ll be fine,” he said in a soothing voice, his light accent lilting the last word. “We’ll get her back.”
I was about to reply when another figure stepped through, this one dressed in a turtleneck sweater with a suit coat thrown over it in a casual look. His blond hair and glasses made him look familiar to me, but I couldn’t place him for the life of me, not until he spoke in a weird accent as he stretched a hand to shake mine.
“Caprice, a pleasure to see you again,” he said as we shook.
“Good, a tech guy,” I said, pumping his hand twice then letting go. “Eraser, right?”
His brow twitched. “Erasmus,” he said. “Richard Erasmus.”
“Dick,” Lee snickered. Rebekah hit his arm lightly in admonishment, but the juvenile insult had occurred to me as well. He’d just said it before I could.
The portal snapped shut and disappeared. We stood in the courtyard of the building we’d been staying in, a fountain nearby bubbling pleasantly as the sun sank below the horizon. This garden wasn’t the place one would think of when you said you were gathering your invading forces, but it was what we had. And it was nice. It wasn’t crummy or dirty like most black hat gathering places.
“Right, Erasmus, Richard,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t see any tech on you?” Maybe he hid a gun beneath that jacket.
He gave a sigh as if he were dealing with the most idiotic people in the world, and pushed one of his sleeves back. On his forearm was an armband, sleek and silver. His fingers grazed over the top of it, lighting up various symbols as they did. A heartbeat later, and a tall silver robot seemingly materialized behind him, shocking me with the sudden appearance. It carried the gun I’d been looking for, a long job which looked like that rail gun from Titan. The head of it was s
quat and flat, the face a triangle pointed forward. The eyes were lit up with blue light in another triangle.
“Does that answer your question?” he asked, pride and satisfaction coming through in a supremely smug voice.
“How’d you teleport that thing over here?” I asked, shifting and adjusting my trench.
“Miniaturization,” he said, his arrogance giving his words a haughty tone. “I collapsed the space between the molecules.”
“However you did it doesn’t matter,” I affirmed, examining the ‘bot. “How many do you have?”
“A dozen, ready to go,” he replied. “Plus my power armor.”
I hadn’t been terribly impressed with him the first time I’d met him as he’d appeared small and weak. Reaching forward with my ‘pathy, the first thing I sensed from him was pride, a bright violet streak of self-importance. He knew he was going to do great things. This was a step in his plan. I nodded as I thought it over. I didn’t try with Lee. He was likely guarding his mind since he used magic in generating his ice. Magic users always warded their thoughts. I knew why Rory was here, though now with my ‘pathy back, it might be strange looking into his head.
All three of them had various looks, style, motivations, and thoughts, but they were all here to help. There couldn’t have been three more different men gathered in one place. “A dozen,” I mused, trying to factor the new people in my plans. “That’s good. I’m glad you’re here. Hope you don’t mind facing down zombies and vampires, probably all enhanced.”
Erasmus made a face indicating his distaste. “Magic,” he scoffed. “Bah. I’ll be glad of aiding you just to rid this world of one more sorcerer.”
“Glad I’m not alone in that feeling,” I said, and meant it. Everything was magic this and magic that. It was nice to have someone rely on technology, even if it was super advanced and looked like magic. I think everyone knows that saying about advanced tech and magic and all.
“Alistair’s got a location,” I went on to say. “In England. Stonehenge to be exact. He says there’s a nexus of great power there, and so it’s likely that Richter is trying to do away with Baba Yaga’s spell altogether instead of making a hole in it. That, or he’s trying to use power to make up for the ingredients he’s missing, but I’m pretty sure the first one is correct. Richter’s obsessed with his experiments, but he’s a good and loyal little Nazi fuckwad. He’ll try to achieve the Reich’s goals first, then his own.”
