Cursed Seer

by J. A. Culican

  I stopp, shocked, and blink at him. "Fee?"

  A shadow looms beside me as Luka steps up. His voice is low and growling as he addresses the unwelcome stranger. "Move along, creep. She's not in the market for slaves, and she has all the protection she needs. Trust me."

  Those last two words are a warning, the menace unmistakable. The venom in his voice is so surprising, given his recent nonchalance about everything, that it overshadows my horror and shock at the notion of modern slave trading.

  The man hears it, too. He takes an involuntary step back, then holds up both hands. In a few steps, he vanishes among the crowd.

  With him gone, my shock at Luka's tone fades, but my horror doesn't. "Slaves? Are you kidding me? How could Birka tolerate that? Somebody has to do something—"

  "We tried," Birka interrupts from behind me. "Like I said, if you destroy this place, another pops up. Maybe one that is worse, but certainly one that's better-hidden."

  "So you just turn a blind eye and—"

  "I have whole teams," she interrupts again, "dedicated solely to tracking down slaves and freeing them. They can't possibly keep up with the volume, but it's more than we could do for those poor souls if we hadn't had spies riddling the Emporium—if we’d crushed it and it went deeper into hiding."

  My mind is a jumble. I can't believe she would let this sort of thing go on in her realm. Then again, none of the others seem shocked. Maybe she's telling me the truth about the futility of trying to stop it. Maybe I haven't even been aware of this world of magic long enough to know how things operate.

  I let out a sharp breath and stuff my angry thoughts and feelings into a little box. This is not the time, and it's a moot point now that she's no longer the queen of Mortals Landing. My lip twitches as I reply, "Fine. Let's get what we came for. Where do we start?"

  Meredith, who hasn't spoken in the last two hours, favors me with a smile. I get the sense that it isn't a happy one, though. "That's easy. You let me do my thing. If there's information here we need, I'll find it, much as I dislike dealing with these people," she says, practically spitting out the last two words like a mouthful of something rotten and putrid. Which, in a way, they are.

  Birka nods. "That is the plan. Glenn, go with her. Don't say anything, just look menacing. Luka, you stick with Mirella. No matter what happens, don't let yourself get separated from her. This is no place for her to be wandering off alone."

  Luka only shrugs. "You couldn't stop me if you wanted to."

  As I look around the place and the people in it, seeing the seedy characters who make up its population, I find myself taking an involuntary step toward him. The image of Eye-Patch snatching me from the shadows and stuffing me in a cage in some dark corner, never to be found by my friends, races through my mind. Yes indeed, I'll be sticking close to Luka.

  I have to take a deep breath and force myself to take each step as my little group of resistance fighters plunges into the swirling, low-key chaos of this awful, informal marketplace. If we find the information we seek, this will all be worth it. I tell myself that over and over, just to keep moving deeper into this rats' nest.

  I'm staring at some weird, carnival-like game in which a half-dressed woman is dancing for donations, but the catch is that there are three of her. Her Gift seems to be the ability to project herself to other places, or create copies. I have no idea how it actually works. But rather than being in perfect unison as I’d expect, all three of them are performing different dances to the same simple beat set by her male partner on an electronic keyboard.

  It's distracting, but I'm here for a purpose. I turn to go—and bump into a man who can't be more than three and a half feet tall, but he's easily that wide and all muscle.

  "Watch where you're going, lady." His growling voice is rich and deep, startling me coming from a man his size.

  Before I can apologize, the world fades away, replaced by a vision. The Fated aura is strong on it from the very outset. I watch as he heads toward a series of four doors below a large sign proclaiming them to be bathrooms. He's almost to one door on the left side, the men’s room, when a tall and slender man exits that same door. The tall one gets a look of recognition on his face, which is quickly replaced by a scowl. There's a glint of steel, and before the short man even spots the threat, six inches of knife blade plunge into his neck. He staggers back, clutching his throat, when the vision ends.

  I blink a couple of times as the world comes back into focus. "Um... Sorry. Didn't see you."

  He snarls, but turns away toward the three-in-one dancing woman. Just as I move on, I overhear him ask the man beside him, "Where's the head, buddy?"

  I grimace. Another chance to practice my newfound control over my Gift. "Over by the display of giant bats," I say loudly and hitch my thumb over my right shoulder. The bathrooms are to the left. He might get angry and think I’m just messing with him, but that's preferable to his untimely demise at the hands of Mister Skinny.

  Once he's walking briskly in the wrong direction, I move on.

  "That was mean," Luka says from just behind me. I can practically hear him smirk.

  I'd almost forgotten he was there, with so much going on around me. Almost. "Not really." I don't feel like shouting over the low roar of the Emporium, and besides, I'm distracted with looking around for—well, I'm not sure. "What exactly am I looking for?"

  I hear him sigh, even over all the noise. "Guns. We need 'em, and not the normal sort. Those, we could simply steal or buy. When we find the sort we're looking for, you'll know it."

  Gah. Not very helpful. I can't come up with a snappy response on the spot, though. How irritating.

  As I continue wandering aimlessly in the general direction of the building's far side, though, there's a shift in the Emporium's background buzz in the direction of the portal we entered through. It's tense. Fearful. At the same time, Luka's hand falls firmly on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

  Abruptly, the back half of the place falls to a moment of eerie silence. I could have heard a pin drop as every conversation dies and every head turns in that direction.

  I look, too. Around one of the portals—when did I start thinking of them as being mundane and ordinary?—a semi-circle of six men and women dressed in black, military-style fatigues has formed. Four of them brandish swords, but two are sweeping the barrels of assault rifles back and forth. The guns both glow a faint, barely visible lavender color. Behind them, more troops continue pouring through the portal.

  I recognize them with only a glance, though I doubt I've ever met any of them individually. My throat is so tight that I barely managed to whisper, "Revenants..."

  "Damn. They found us." Luka, his hand still grasping my shoulder, yanks me from the impromptu walkway and plunges us into the loose crowd, crouching low as he moves.

  When the first shot rings out, I duck, too.

  Chapter 13

  "Where are we going?" I'm relieved to feel the comforting weight of my knives hidden beneath my clothes.

  "We gotta meet up with the others." Luka doesn't waste any more breath, but he doesn't have to. Birka and Meredith had taken what I thought of as the northeast corner, while Glenn and Ida took the southeast, in our search for “special” guns. Luka makes a bee-line for Birka's quadrant, with me in tow.

  Behind us, a series of shots ring out, following the one from two seconds ago, and I look over in time to see one of the black-clad revenants fire a burst at a man nearby. The man throws up his shield, but the lavender streaks of bullets pass right through his golden shield, striking him in the chest. Damn again. That's new.

  As the crowd of black marketers starts to return disorganized fire and Gifts flare to life, I focus on getting through the mob of people in front of me as they mostly turn to run in the same direction we’re trying to go. Quickly, we come to almost a standstill, unable to get through the wall of people pressed body-to-body in their effort to escape.

  Then, like the parting of the Red Sea, the mob s
eparates. Luka and I follow close behind a telekinetic woman making her way toward the exit.

  It only takes a few moments to find Birka and Meredith. Between the two of them, they've used their powers to control a mob of their own, creating a semi-circle around themselves. That makes them the only people in the whole quadrant with any kind of breathing space, and Luka and I plunge through the line as quickly as we can.

  I can finally take a deep breath, grateful not to be pressed by dozens of bodies all around me.

  Birka's face is grim. "Did you find anything?"

  Over the roar, Luka shouts, "No, we didn't have time. The Emporium is under attack—"

  "I can see that."

  "—by at least a squad of others like me." He wraps his arm around my shoulder and shoves me toward the center, toward Birka.

  Before she can respond, I shout, "Some have guns. Magic guns. Shields are no good." I wish I could say more, but the lulls in shooting don't permit it.

  I see a mental image of Birka's head exploding, the top part coming away, and I dive into her. We hit the ground in a tangle of arms and legs, and she roars indignantly.

  "I just saved you."

  Her eyes go wide and she nods once, curtly.

  Meredith helps me up as Luka helps Birka, and says, "We had more luck. In the offices, it turns out the—"

  Sudden intense gunfire drowns her out. When it passes, she continues, "The owners have a sort of computer in the offices. It keeps a copy of most of the information that trades hands, here. I don't know how it works, but maybe if we can find that, we’ll find what we need."

  Birka pauses with a faraway look in her eyes, then her eyes come back into focus. "Luka, get us to the offices. They’re off in Glenn's search area. If what we need to know is here, that's the only place we're going to find it in time."

  I don't like this idea. I mean, the building is under attack and she wants to go to the offices? I imagine it to be a dead end, and we're going to have to get out of here somehow. Before I have the chance to say as much, though, the ring of brain-whammied defenders around us presses me forward, keeping up with Birka and Meredith. Luka is suddenly beside me, sliding his arm around my waist and pulling me forward. I guess it's the plan we are going to go with, rash or not.

  The next few minutes are a chaotic mess. At least, I think it's a few minutes, but it's hard to tell in the middle of what has become a raging battle. To my right, as we move forward, I have a decent view of the Revenants and the battle they've started. There's no way everyone can get out—not with them blocking half the portals, and the remaining ones can only operate so fast. Hundreds are stuck dealing with the problem at hand. Some try to hide, but most are a tougher sort and seem to be fighting back. The squads of Revenants are greatly outnumbered—I think there are twenty of them, now—but the criminals and derelicts who make up the Emporium's population are a disorganized mob. The walking-dead troops don't seem to be having much of a problem cutting through the crowd as they head toward the northwest corner, where I had been only minutes ago.

  At last, we approach the office doors. To my surprise, they've been sandbagged. Behind the impromptu fortifications stand a dozen archers, their weapons glowing. Whoever runs this place can afford the best, and I have no doubt those are the some of the deadliest enchanted weapons in the world.

  It comes as no surprise, then, when a vision hits me of Glenn being struck in the chest by a crossbow bolt and disintegrating to ash in an instant. I yell at him up ahead to duck, my panicked voice piercing the air. He does, without questioning, and feathery death flies over his head, passing through the space his chest had been, no doubt burying itself in some unlucky soul behind us.

  The look on Ida's face, the raw gratitude, stands out in my mind like a photograph, a moment frozen in time. Its clarity is in stark contrast to the blur of all that is going on around us. Then, her features twist as she looks back toward the offices. I don't need Luka's empath talents to tell me she's enraged. She half-stands from where she crouches beside Glenn and raises both arms. All around us, everyday items rise up from the ground, from desks, from people's pockets—about to become lethal weapons.

  An image flashes through my mind of a filing cabinet bouncing off some invisible barrier with enough force to knock Ida off her feet as it rebounds. If I see it, it means it kills her. I reach out one hand desperately, but I know I can't stop her in time—

  From his position getting off the floor, Glenn executes a perfect foot sweep that catches Ida right behind the knees, sending her toppling backwards to the ground.

  "What the hell?" Her shout is easily heard above the noise.

  Glenn is already helping her up. "They have a shield. No telekinesis."

  I had almost forgotten he was a clairvoyant. Thank goodness her death hadn't been the will of Fate, because I wouldn't have been able to alter it in time. A close call. It seems as though time freezes for a moment, everyone uncertain what to do next, but the moment is broken by Meredith bending over at the waist and projectile vomiting all over the floor and her shoes. Her pretty, expensive shoes. As we stare at her, she wipes her mouth and, in a momentary lull in the fighting, says, "I got this. Go, fast. I can't control so many..." Heavy gunfire drowns out whatever she says next, but Luka is already dragging me forward and Birka wastes no time, either. We and our human meatshield surrounding us cross the open space between the crowd and the office defenders. It only takes a couple of seconds, but I expect to catch a bolt or arrow in the face with every step.

  My own feathery death never comes, though, and we make it to the barricades. Meredith’s doing. The guardians separate just long enough for us to dive over the sandbag emplacement, one after the other. We don’t stop until we’re through the doors and into the offices.

  I look around and my jaw drops for a moment. These are no ordinary warehouse offices. Actually, I think it might be bigger on the inside than it appeared on the outside, because it appears to be an entire office building back here. In stark contrast to the dingy concrete floor of the warehouse beyond, the office floors are tiled in granite, the desks made of solid hardwood. Statues all around. I don't waste time gawking, though. "Where the heck are there computers?"

  Birka, the second one in, closes the door as the last of us comes through. As soon as the door closes, the noise outside dies away to nothing. Enchanted silence, how nice.

  She says, "It isn't a computer, not like we think of them. No computer could do what these do, copying not just documents but thoughts and words with every transaction that happens here. It's a mix of magic and technology, and I have no idea what that will look like."

  Luka, sword drawn—I don't remember seeing him pull it out, but I'm not surprised—strides forward, and the few office workers scramble away from him, doing their level best to back as far away as possible. I can't really blame them. We did just waltz through their protectors like they weren't even there, after all. It occurs to me that, even among our kind, Meredith's particular gift must be almost as rare as mine, or the owners would have thought of some defense against it as they did Ida's telekinesis.

  "Where you going?" I scramble to catch up, the others hot on my heels.

  "To find a magic computer. I suspect we'll know it when we see it."

  I hope he's right. We'll soon find out.

  "Lady, your movie mind-trick stunt won't work on us. I'd take you in right now if I could leave this post, so it's your lucky day. Get out of here while you can."

  Meredith's shoulders slump and her head cocks to one side.

  I can imagine her surprise at finding guards who don't succumb to her Gift. Nonetheless, I'm pretty sure the room beyond is the one we need. It's the only one we've seen with its own guards. It leaves us with one heck of a problem, though.

  Without turning my head, I whisper to no one in particular, "What do we do now? That has to be the room."

  Ida makes a sound like sucking on her teeth, lip curled back in a snarl. "I could try my telekinesis. I'm
nowhere near as strong as Luna, but I could probably handle these two yahoos."

  Glenn says what I'm thinking, though. "No. We already know they shield against that. Maybe if we could physically throw something at them..."

  "Well, we can't." Birka shifts from one knee to the other as we peer around the corner. She ducks back at the same time I do, to the accompaniment of Meredith's footsteps growing louder.

  Luka climbs to his feet. "I'm damn tired of this. Forget the subtle approach, I'm going in. Follow me if you want to."

  I reach out for him, but I'm too late, and he steps out from around the corner into the guards' view. He walks toward them, hands at his sides, his stride calm and even as Meredith passes him going the other way. He doesn't slow.

  "Halt. You people need to get out of here." The sound of a weapon being racked echoes off the tile floor and metal walls.

  "Go stuff it." The faint sound of his sword tip dragging on the granite flooring accompanies Luka's terse words.

  I know what has to happen next. Sudden fear overwhelms me, and I find myself taking a step forward to come out from behind our cover. Strong hands grabbed me from behind and yank me back, though.

  "I mean it. Last chance, punk." The guard’s voice is full of menace—and fear.

  I spin on Glenn with adrenaline pumping through my veins and shove him, harder than I mean to thanks to the adrenaline coursing through me, but he's expecting it. He doesn't budge.

  Automatic gun fire rings out, setting the rhythm of my nightmare's soundtrack. I hear metal clanging on metal amidst the gunshots that seem to go on and on forever. Of course, it can't be more than a couple of seconds, however long it takes for a fully automatic assault rifle to empty a thirty-round magazine.

  I expect to hear the metallic click, click of guards reflexively pulling triggers on empty weapons, but there's only silence.

  Hesitantly, I crane my neck just enough to catch a peek around the corner. The sight that greets me makes me gasp. Luka stands between fallen corpses, each savaged by his sword. More surprising, I can see holes in his clothes. Small, neat holes. They're all over his chest and abdomen. They hadn't missed him after all, and yet there he stands looking down on their sliced corpses. Heavy drops of blood flow down his blade to fall from the tip of the sword now hanging from his hand. But it's the ecstatic expression he wears that most grabs my attention. He looks... high.