Grim Tides (Marla Mason)

by Pratt, T. A.

  Marla pushed her cup aside. “I didn’t go to Jarrow with my head bowed and wait for death last night. I am fighting. I just wonder, sometimes, what I’m fighting for.”

  “Marla – ” Rondeau’s phone rang. He raised an eyebrow, and Marla nodded. Probably it was just his masseur on Maui calling to ask why he’d missed yesterday’s appointment –

  “Wow,” Rondeau said. “I didn’t expect to hear from you. I’m doing fine, thanks, totally recovered from the whole getting-shot-by-you thing. Oh, but you don’t want to walk down memory lane with me. Let me get your sister.” He handed over the phone.“Hello, Jason,” Marla said.

  “Marla. I’ve, ah, got a message for you. From Elsie Jarrow.”

  “I thought you had bad taste in friends before, but you’ve really outdone yourself this time. You never cease to impress.”

  He sounded a little shaky when he replied, but with Jason, no show of emotion was remotely trustworthy. She wasn’t sure he even had emotions, apart from maybe envy and contempt. “Listen, sis, I didn’t have a lot of choice. I wasn’t so much recruited as kidnapped, and I still don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here with witches and warlocks and guys with creepy wooden jaws. Mostly I’ve just been driving them around and waiting for them to get bored with me.”

  “Or kill you,” Marla said. “That’s just as likely. Maybe more so.”

  “You sure know how to raise a guy’s spirits. But, look – I’m calling to tell you nobody has to die. Jarrow wants to meet with you, and talk things over. No tricks, no fussing or fighting.”

  “Ha. Fine. Where?”

  “There’s supposed to be a great buffet in that resort where you’re staying,” Jason said. “How about she meets you there for brunch in an hour?”

  “Just me and her, alone?”

  “I’m not coming, if that’s what you’re asking. Our tearful reunion will have to wait.” There was some background noise, and then muffled noises as if Jason was covering the phone, and then he returned. “Oh, Jarrow wants to know if you’ve got Nicolette, or if she’s still just a fart in the woods, whatever the fuck that means.”

  “I’ve got her,” Marla said. “She’s not hurt.”

  Jason relayed that. “Okay,” he said. “Thanks.’

  “What, no demands that I release her?”

  “Jarrow says if having a hostage makes you feel better, that’s cool. One hour at the buffet. If you get there first, order coffee for her.” He hung up, and Marla handed the phone back to Rondeau, telling him the deal.

  “Normally meeting in public is a good idea,” Rondeau said. “It keeps people on good behavior. But this is Jarrow. What if she just, like... kills everybody?”

  “Then get a message to Arachne, and mobilize the kahunas against her,” Marla said. “Put her in touch with Hamil, too – he was part of the team that caught Jarrow the first time, though he was nothing but an apprentice at the time. He might have some pointers.”

  “How did they catch her?” Rondeau asked.

  Marla shrugged. “I was prepubescent at the time, living in Indiana. I don’t know all the details. I just know it took a lot of resources. Ask Pelham – he’s a walking history of Felport.”

  “Maybe I’ll get him to tell me for my bedtime story tonight, since you’re making us share a room,” Rondeau said.

  “Assuming you’ll live until bedtime,” Marla replied. “Aren’t you the optimist?”

  BREAKING BREAD

  Marla arrived at the hotel’s the open-air breakfast buffet, wondering how often the birds fluttering around shat on people’s omelets. She told the hostess she needed a table for two. Pelham was lurking around somewhere, keeping an eye on things to make sure Jarrow didn’t bring an entourage. Rondeau was on Nicolette duty, and Marla just hoped he’d remembered to put the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the doorknob. If some poor housekeeper discovered they had a woman tied up in a bathtub, things could get awkward.

  Jarrow breezed in a few minutes after Marla was seated, all smiles and cheerfully waving, dressed like a wealthy tourist from the mainland in a red sundress and lots of chunky gold jewelry and too much lipstick. Marla stood up, and Jarrow embraced her and air-kissed her cheeks. “Darling, you look tired!”

  “I didn’t get much sleep last night, Jarrow.”

  “Please, call me Elsie! I didn’t sleep, but then, I never do, it cuts into my me-time, you know. I realize we have a lot to talk about, but I’m dying for something to eat. I don’t actually need food, I subsist on other energies, but I love a good buffet – ooh, there’s an omelet station!” She hurried over toward the long tables of savories and sweets.

  Marla unobtrusively slipped Death’s ring from her finger and peered through the circle as the witch filled up a plate with eggs and bacon and fruit. The future didn’t appear to hold any surprise attacks, just Jarrow getting food and coming back to the table and talking. The ring didn’t provide audio, and Marla wasn’t much of a lipreader, so she didn’t know what Jarrow was saying. She put the ring away. She’d find out soon enough.

  When Jarrow returned, she reached across the table and took Marla’s hand. Looking at her up close, Marla could see the underlying structure of Jarrow’s face, and it was Marla’s own, though it was clearly being altered from the inside. Still, they could have been sisters, once you looked beyond the fiery red hair and make-up on Jarrow. “My dear,” Jarrow said, “let there be no more conflict between us. I was hired to do a distasteful job, and now that my employer is no longer in a position to give me orders, well! Why should I bother you any longer?”

  Marla frowned and pulled her hand away. “So you’re just going to let it drop? No more murder or torment?”

  “You understand me perfectly.”

  “Then why did you even come here? Why not just leave the island?”

  Jarrow raised one eyebrow. “Marla Mason. I told you I did a tiny bit of research on you before I came on this mission. You’re a fairly formidable person. In the past few years you’ve vanquished the Beast of Felport, outsmarted the time-traveling first chief sorcerer of the city – don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone it’s really Malkin, it’s cute how you made everyone think he was just some crazy guy – sent the king of elves back to his hideous little dimension, killed a resurrected Aztec god, dispelled the king of nightmares, and fought the incarnation of Death. Am I missing anything?”

  “Lots of things, actually,” Marla said. “But I guess those are some of the highlights.”

  “And what highlights they are! You don’t look like much, forgive me for saying so, but I think you could make my life unpleasant, if you wanted to. You still have some powerful friends, even if you’re reluctant to call on them. Why didn’t you summon your friend Genevieve, by the way, the reweaver? She would have made this thing between us into a real fight.”

  “Against you? Genevieve’s mind isn’t all that stable, and she can alter reality with a thought – she shut herself away in a private bubble-universe because she worried about how she might mess up this world. She contains the potential for incomprehensible chaos. Throwing her at you would be like trying to douse a fire with kerosene – you’d end up using her power to make yourself stronger.”

  “Drat,” Jarrow said. “I was afraid you’d actually thought it through. Oh well. You’re a fighter, Marla, and you have a distressing tendency to accomplish things. You’ve got the one quality that’s indispensable to a sorcerer: an iron will. The kind of will that says, ‘I will change the world, and I will not be changed.’ So I thought it best to come visit you, and formally declare an end to hostilities, and break bread together.” Jarrow tore a macadamia nut muffin in half and offered a chunk to Marla, who accepted it, but didn’t eat.

  “If you think I could be a threat to you... why not kill me? Just to be on the safe side?”

  Jarrow smiled warmly. “Why, what a cold arithmetic, Marla! I want you to live because you make the world a more interesting place. Despite your best efforts to restore things to maintain a s
tatus quo and prevent upheaval in Felport, you’re an agent of turmoil. You prompted a regime change in Hell, Marla. You tore a big hole right in the fabric of reality and let terrible things from a dread dimension pour into this world. Thanks for that, by the way – I’m quite fond of Crapsey. You’re a destabilizing force for chaos, and the adorable thing is, you think you’re a force for order.”

  Marla shook her head. “Maybe that was true once, Elsie, but I’m not a force for anything anymore.” She sighed. “But... I still try to do the right thing. And my problem is, you did bad stuff, last time you were free. It took a coalition of dozens of sorcerers from up and down the East Coast to contain you. You were a walking, talking cancer cluster. If I don’t try to stop you, what am I unleashing on the world?”

  Jarrow put her chin in her hand and regarded Marla seriously. “Is that... altruism? How strange. I keep meaning to try that someday – being a do-gooder for a while. Listen, Marla. Those were dark times. I wasn’t entirely aware of what I was doing. My original body was ravaged by tumors. I held myself together physically through sheer force of will, but I couldn’t shut out the pain without shutting off all sensation, so my options were utter agony or the feeling of floating in a sensory deprivation tank all the time. Neither one was good for my mental health. You have to understand, I’m not really insane – I just had a nervous breakdown, lost my handle on my powers, and... yes, people died. I know that. I’ve been locked in a cube for years, and for some of that time, I didn’t have a body at all, I was so low on power I couldn’t save my physical form from the tumors that consumed it. Being bodiless for long periods of time will mess you up, Marla, especially if you’re a bon vivant like me. But now.” She sat back and gestured at herself modestly. “I’m in a young, strong, incredibly well-safeguarded body. No more bad craziness in my head. Don’t worry about me. Besides, practically speaking, how could you stop me? I mean, yes, theoretically, I won’t discount the possibility – but it wouldn’t be easy for you, and it wouldn’t be quick.”

  Marla disagreed. She had a pretty good idea how she could stop Jarrow. She’d figured out the first part last night, and had woken with an inspiration for the second part. But the cost was extreme, and if she didn’t need to do it... maybe Jarrow was lying. But maybe she was telling the truth. She was definitely weird, but she didn’t seem particularly out-of-control now. Last night had been weird and ugly, but it was a duel between sorcerers – those tended to be unpleasant. Jarrow wouldn’t be the only unpredictable, dangerous sorcerer in the world. And why did she have to be Marla’s problem anyway? Jarrow hadn’t escaped from Blackwing under Marla’s watch. Marla didn’t even have a watch anymore. If Jarrow didn’t pose a clear and present danger to Marla herself, or to anyone she cared about... “I guess you have a point,” Marla said.

  “Truce, then?” Jarrow said.

  “Until you give me a reason to decide otherwise.”

  “Then eat your damn muffin,” Jarrow said. “Symbolism is important.”

  Marla took a bite, chewed, swallowed. “How’s my brother Jason?”

  “Surly. I see a family resemblance.”

  “Can you tell him I don’t mean him any harm anymore? I’ll leave him alone if he leaves me alone?”

  “Hmm. Maybe? I’ll think about it. Doesn’t sound very interesting, though.”

  That was probably the best she could hope for. “You’ve decided not to try and kill me, but what about the rest of your merry band?”

  “Oh, the hired guns will wander off. The ones with a personal grudge... well, there’s Crapsey, I would imagine you can handle him if he gets obstreperous. And Nicolette, but you’ve got her, right?”

  “Tied up in a bathroom. I’d like to get rid of her, by the way.”

  Jarrow gestured vaguely westward. “There’s a whole big ocean out there you could drown her in.”

  “I don’t go in for casual murder, or pre-emptive self-defense, either. But it would be nice if she left me alone.”

  “Tell you what,” Jarrow said. “I’ll see if Crapsey wants her back. Maybe he’ll trade Nicolette’s freedom for his good behavior? You can’t trust him, and they’ll betray you, but...” She shrugged. “It’s just Nicolette and Crapsey. Knock them out and stick them on a banana boat to the mainland, and they won’t bother you for a while.” Jarrow leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Nicolette’s afraid of teleporting.”

  “She did get her arm ripped off that way,” Marla said.

  Jarrow rolled her eyes. “Such a little drama queen. She lost one arm. Big deal. She’s got another one.”

  “Can I ask you something? What keeps you going? I mean... what’s your purpose?”

  Jarrow leaned back and regarded Marla seriously. “Wow. I didn’t have you pegged as the philosopher type. What’s the meaning of life? Whatever meaning you give it, sweetums. I like seeing the world, meeting new people, and feeling the thrum of impossible energies filling my body. I’m basically a proponent of straight-up hedonism.”

  “My friend Rondeau’s the same way. But for me... that’s never been enough.”

  “Take up knitting, or join the Society for Creative Anachronism, or get into exotic animal rescue. You’re retired now, right? Get a hobby.”

  “A hobby? Elsie, I used to have a mission.”

  “So find one of those.” Jarrow shrugged. “The world’s full of shit. If that bothers you, don’t just bitch about it. Grab a shovel and get to work.” She grinned. “People like me will help make sure there’s always more poop for you to scoop.”

  When Marla got back to her room, Death was waiting for her, sitting in the armchair by the sliding glass door to the balcony.

  “You just let yourself in, did you?”

  “Death can go anywhere, Marla. That’s sort of the point. I’ve seen the future – and your death is no longer imminent. Neither is Jason’s, or Nicolette’s.”

  Marla sat down on the edge of the bed. “You don’t seem too thrilled about that.”

  “For obvious reasons. But you don’t seem very happy, either, which surprises me.”

  “For a little while there, I had some adrenaline pumping, I was having fun, but... a truce over brunch? It’s kind of anticlimactic. I always hated the diplomacy parts of my job the most.”

  “Tell me, Marla – did you discover the secret of the ring?”

  “Look through it, see the future. Kind of nifty, I guess. I haven’t told Rondeau about it. He’d beg me to borrow it so he could find a horse race to bet on. Like he doesn’t have enough money already.”

  “I’m sure it’s less about the money, and more about the thrill,” Death said. “I’d think you could relate.”

  “Ha.”

  “Did you look at Jarrow through the ring?”

  “Sure. I got to see her scoop eggs onto a plate whole seconds before she actually did it.”

  Death frowned. “The ring can do rather more than give you glimpses of the immediate, Marla. If you focus on the person you’re watching, and let the surroundings blur, you can see farther – a view of the most likely long-term future for that individual, unfolding in a rapid flow, and by paying attention in just the right way, you can slow down and focus on particular moments. It’s quite a powerful artifact.” That last bit was rather peevish.

  “Right. Sorry. It’s a beautiful ring, and... I can see how it would be very useful.”

  “Perhaps, if you have the opportunity, you should look at Jarrow through it again.”

  Marla didn’t like the sound of that. “Why?”

  “You might see something that... makes you rethink your agreement.”

  “Shit. You’re saying she’s going to betray me?”

  Death shook his head. “Not that, not exactly, but... she is a force for chaos, Marla. She is a carrion beetle that feeds on death.”

  “So? It’s none of my business.”

  “Really? Well. Sometimes things get big enough that they become your business, whether you like it or not.” He stood up. �
�I should be off. But one other thing. If, in the future, you have something to say to me – just say it. You don’t need to send a messenger.”

  “I have no idea what in the earthly fuck you’re talking about.”

  Death’s expression became thoughtful. “Ah. I may have misjudged... if you don’t know what I mean, never mind. I was mistaken.”

  “Hold on, what are you – ”

  “Marla!” Rondeau burst in through the connecting door. “I offered Nicolette the bathroom like ten times, but she just crapped herself and now she’s laughing and rolling around in the tub – ” He stopped short. “Oh. Uh. Hi, Mr., uh.”

  “Rondeau,” Death said, voice chilly. He pulled open a door that shouldn’t have been on the wall and stepped through. The door sort of sidled away and vanished after he closed it.

  “What did he want?” Rondeau said. “Did I interrupt a godly booty-call?”

  “Not exactly. He’s pretty bummed I’m not going to die anytime soon.”

  A look of guilt flashed across Rondeau’s face. Marla had seen that expression on him before lately. She didn’t ask – he probably had lots of things to feel guilty about.

  But Rondeau said, “Marla, I should tell you... I mean, it doesn’t matter now, but... Death made me an offer, back in Lahaina.”

  “What kind of offer?”

  “Everything I’ve ever dreamed of,” Rondeau said. “And all I had to do in return was... stand aside and let you die. He didn’t ask me to kill you, he just said, if it looked like you were about to get killed, if I didn’t do anything, if I didn’t try to save you, he’d reward me. I was never going to do it, but I didn’t want to tell you, didn’t want to distract you when you were in a fight for your life, but if things are cool now – ”

  Marla blinked. The bottom had dropped out of her stomach. “Fucking gods,” she said.

  That’s when Reva knocked on the door and called, “Anyone home?”

  The ropes holding Pelham hostage were unpredictable in nature: they moved, they writhed, they tightened – but they also loosened. And whenever they did loosen, Pelham shifted his body incrementally to take advantage, sliding the ropes down, edging ever closer to freedom... for what it was worth. Escaping from the ropes would take hours – but he seemed to have ample time, as they’d stuck him in a closet in a bungalow overnight and well into the morning. He was one good twist away from being loose, though what he would do after getting loose was an open question.