Poison Sleep

by T. A. Pratt

  Hamil stepped toward Reeves. “Terrence Reeves. Does this woman look familiar to you?”

  The man narrowed his eyes. “Never seen her before in my life.”

  Genevieve shuddered, a wave of revulsion passing through her and into Marla, but that revulsion was better than fear.

  “You raped her in an alley not far from here, fifteen years ago.”

  “Some vigilante bullshit, always harass me. I did my time, I never touched her,” he said, his mouth running on autopilot, and now the same words were coming from Reave’s mouth. Somewhere, far off in the black tower, bits of stone began to crumble and fall with distant crashes.

  “You remember me,” Genevieve said slowly. “I see it in your mind. Why did you hurt me?”

  “Fuck you, bitch, I’m innocent, let me go!” Terry yelled.

  She shook her head. “You don’t even know why. You just…do these things. Because you like them. I wasn’t even a person to you.”

  “I got rights,” Reeves said.

  “Not today,” Rondeau said, flipping his butterfly knife nonchalantly open and closed.

  “He’s only a little nothing,” Genevieve said. “In his mind that night he was so strong, unstoppable, a force of nature. But he’s just crazy.” And there was something in her mind like a dam breaking, like long-closed windows being thrown open, like a flipped circuit breaker being switched back. It was like light came pouring into her head, and just as suddenly, the ceiling of Reave’s tower room broke open, and by the gods, it was dawn in Felport already. “He’s afraid of me,” Genevieve said, real wonder and relief in her voice. Genevieve leaned close to Reeves, and then just shook her head. “We don’t need him anymore. Let him go back to his rot and ruin.”

  “You’re not worried he’ll hurt someone else?” Rondeau said.

  “Oh, no,” Genevieve said, and did something Marla didn’t quite understand, though she felt a twinge in her borrowed brain. Genevieve reached into Reeves’s mind and did something, and Reeves began to whimper and twitch. “I fixed that. He’ll never hurt anyone else. I gave him a little bit of what I have. He can never hurt anyone without feeling that hurt tenfold on himself.”

  “Ha!” Marla said in the tower. “You hear that, Terry? You got a megadose of empathy. Suck on that, you fuck.”

  “Put him out in the street,” Genevieve said, and Rondeau and Langford untied Reeves, took his unresisting form to the door, and pitched him into the snow.

  Genevieve sat down in the chair. “Let me back to my body,” she said. “Marla. I want to see him. The other him.”

  Marla looked Reave over. He was shrunken, just a sketch of a man, and so she withdrew from Genevieve’s mind, and felt Genevieve withdraw from hers. They passed in that dark space between, and Marla felt something like the touch of a gentle hand on her cheek, something like a “Thank you.”

  “Marla?” Rondeau said, back in the lab, and she hushed him quickly. The connection was still open between her and Genevieve, and she wanted to see.

  Genevieve knelt beside Reave’s twitching, quivering form. The nightmare king stared at her with eyes wide and terrified. “I would hate you, but I made you,” Genevieve said. “I made you to punish myself. I gave you all the power you have.” She shook her head. “But you don’t have a place in my mind anymore, or in the world.” She poked him in the cheek with her index finger, and his flesh gave way like the skin of a mushroom. A little puff of dust rose up, and then his head collapsed on itself, his eyes rolling free, transformed into marbles. His black coat and clothes liquefied into a puddle. Genevieve let out a little sigh.

  Marla wondered if she should send some guys over to the tower to make sure Genevieve was okay—Nicolette and Gregor were still at large, after all—but Genevieve just laughed in her mind. The tower will be nothing but a puddle of blackness in a few minutes, and then I’m leaving this world for a while, she said. I have to set some things in order. I’ll be in touch.

  And then Genevieve broke the connection, an act that should have been impossible given the potency of the sympathetic connection Hamil had created. But Genevieve could do lots of impossible things. That fact was slightly less scary now that she didn’t appear to be insane.

  “Ding, dong, Reave is dead,” Marla said, and the others clapped their hands and whistled and cheered. “And Genevieve is sane enough to get the hell out of town. I’m going to go home, and eat some steak and eggs, and fuck my lover.”

  “Rondeau and I will get in touch with the other sorcerers, and tell them what’s happened,” Hamil said.

  Marla stood up and patted him on the arm. “See, I count on you to make me look good. Yeah, go around and see them in person, would you? Smooth all the ruffled feathers, let them know we’re cool, get the border guards to ease off on the blizzard, and all that. See if anyone has any suggestions for how to deal with the fact that much of the ordinary population of Felport saw impossible towers, monsters, and other weird shit on the streets, too.” She unwound the scarf and put down the photograph and book. “Hold on to Genevieve’s stuff. We’ll give it back to her, if she doesn’t disappear into a more pleasant dreamland forever.”

  17

  W e won!” Marla said, bursting into her office, where Ted and Joshua—beautiful Joshua, such a welcome sight!—sat playing checkers on her antique chessboard.

  “Hamil called us, it’s wonderful,” Ted said, rising. “He also explained about the sympathetic magic. I’m sorry, if I’d realized, I would have told you about Terry Reeves earlier—”

  Marla grabbed him and gave him a hug. “Shut up, Ted. You did great.”

  “So what happens next?” Joshua said.

  “Hmm? Well, things are chilling out all over the city. The monsters are gone, Reave’s tower went kaput, the sinkholes are disappearing…I walked here from Langford’s, and everything’s getting back to normal. The sun’s not shining, but I don’t mind winter, when there are no monsters coming out of the snow. There are lots of loose ends—for one, I have to call Kardec and tell him Zealand didn’t make it out alive. If Zealand had survived, I’d be smuggling him out of Felport and trying to send the slow assassins off on a wild-goose chase in the other direction.” She shook her head. “I wish that’s what I was doing.”

  “What about Gregor and his people?” Joshua said.

  “Oh, Gregor’s going to die,” Marla said. “The other sorcerers will call for his execution for collaborating with Reave, and we’ll all together kick his door down and drag him out into the daylight, but I’ll be the one to carry out the sentence. I don’t know what he was thinking, betting against me. He should know better. We’ll pull him out of his spider hole and take off his head.” She shrugged. “Executing traitors isn’t exactly the fun part of my job, but it’s necessary sometimes. As for Gregor’s people, well, ‘I was just following orders’ doesn’t go too far with me, but we’ll take it on a case-by-case basis. All that’s for later, though. Who wants breakfast?”

  “Should I call down to the diner?” Ted said. “I heard on the radio that a lot of businesses are opening again this morning. You know, mixed in with the stories about mass hysteria and unexplained animal sightings and organized bands of looters.”

  “No, Ted, you’re our resident hero, so I’ll order the food. Steak, eggs, hash browns, juices all around—we’ll have a big old greasy feast. And then, Joshua, you and I will go celebrate in private.” She went to the desk, picked up the phone, and dialed.

  A gurgle and cry behind her made her turn, and she saw Ted spitting blood, eyes wide. He fell to the floor, and Marla dropped the phone. Joshua held a long knife, and began nonchalantly cleaning it with a handkerchief. Who even carried handkerchiefs anymore? He was so classy.

  “Joshua?” Marla said, bewildered. “What—why did you do that?” The only possible explanation came to her. “Was Ted the spy? Was he working for Gregor? You killed him before he could attack me? Right?”

  “No, you silly bitch,” Joshua said. “I’m the spy.” He shook h
is head. “Ted’s just an insufferable little man who wouldn’t even let me win at checkers, until I told him to. Some people have no manners.”

  “Joshua,” Marla said, numb, conflicted. He was beautiful, her golden boy, but he’d just killed Ted, he was working with her enemy—gods, what a magnificent plan, how flawlessly he’d pulled it off! She wanted to applaud.

  “And even now you love me,” Joshua said, shaking his head, stepping over Ted’s body as it emptied itself of blood. “You’re impressed with me, you’re admiring how I played you. As well you should. Gregor hired me before you even interviewed me. He saw the future, knew you would approach me, and so he came to me first. He offered me more money, more power, more of everything. Not that I care much about power and money. But he also offered me a chance to pretend—I always wanted to be an actor. I think audiences would love me. You certainly thought it was a command performance.”

  “But you saved me,” Marla said. “You stopped Reave from attacking me in Gregor’s office. You…I don’t understand.” She didn’t. His brilliance was clearly beyond her ability to comprehend.

  “I only stepped in because I thought you might actually defeat Reave, and Gregor didn’t want that.” Joshua shrugged.

  “But you could have killed me anytime—in bed, I was totally exposed, in your power…why didn’t you?”

  Joshua sniffed. “I’m a lover, Marla, not a killer.” He glanced at Ted’s body. “Well, usually. Gregor said he was hiring a professional to kill you, and he just needed me on the inside to provide information, and to keep you distracted from your proper business. Of course, things have become more desperate recently. Today Gregor called and told me to finish the job, if I could do so without dying myself. If I murdered you in front of Rondeau and Hamil, well, they would have ended me. They find me loveable, but not as loveable as you do. My power only becomes irresistible when I fuck someone. You know what they say about lovetalkers. As soon as I took you to bed, I knew I could do anything I wanted, and you would only stand there, gazing at me in wonder.” He laughed, and it was still music to Marla. “This seemed like the right time, with no one here but Ted. I knew he’d be easy to take by surprise. And you, well, I can walk up to you now and put this knife in your heart, and your last word will be ‘Bravo.’” He approached her, holding the knife inexpertly, but even an amateur could kill someone who didn’t bother to defend herself.

  “You tricked me at every turn,” Marla said. “I’m humbled. And making love to you was the sweetest experience of my life. You’re the worthiest adversary I can imagine.”

  “Yes, well, you weren’t half bad yourself, Marla. It wasn’t a bad job. I’ll be a little sorry to kill you.”

  “One last kiss?” Marla said. “Before I go?”

  “Oh, why not?” Joshua said.

  Marla leaned in close. She took his face in her hands. She kissed him.

  Then she put one hand on his chin, one on his cheek, and jerked his head around as hard as she could, snapping his neck and killing him instantly.

  He fell, and she looked down at his body. He was still beautiful, even though the supernatural glamour had faded with his life. “Oh, Joshua,” she said, and there were tears in her eyes. “I did love you.” But he’d made the mistake of thinking she wouldn’t kill someone she loved, and of course she would, if that was the only way to save her city.

  She went to Ted, hoping he might have held on, but he was gone, bled out. Marla sat with him for a while, holding a vigil in miniature, gripping his hand in hers. They’d never play chess again. She wouldn’t be able to see him settled in his own apartment, or show him her inherited library of books on magic. He would have liked that. She would have liked it, too.

  Marla opened her mouth to tell Ted she was sorry, but he was dead, and couldn’t hear her, and it was her fault. She’d told herself she was falling in love with Joshua, but she’d only met him less than a week ago. He’d been a stranger. She’d been bewitched and enchanted, just like the farm girls who pined away for the love of a Ganconer. Her fundamental mistrust had deserted her, and she’d let herself be tricked, mind and heart hijacked by Joshua’s poisonous magic. She’d been careless, and now her friend was dead.

  Marla closed Ted’s eyes and trudged out of the room to call Hamil.

  Nicolette came to Gregor in his underground safe room. “Boss, I just called Joshua…and Rondeau answered his phone. He says Joshua is dead, and Marla is coming for us.”

  Gregor covered his eyes. “That’s it, then. I’m dead. All because I wanted to leave this fucking building.”

  “Yeah,” Nicolette said, making a decision. “I actually feel really bad about that.”

  Gregor looked up. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, well. It wasn’t a real prophecy, that’s all. The thing about how Marla would kill you if you left the building. It was a lie.”

  Gregor stood up. “The Giggler told me. He’s the most potent seer I’ve ever met, what do you mean it was a lie?”

  “The Giggler will say anything for a cookie.” She shrugged. “I told him what to say, and he stuck with it. For a bughouse lunatic who rolls in his own filth, he’s a stand-up guy.”

  “Why would you do something like this?” Gregor said, shaking with rage.

  Nicolette fingered the ends of her braids, where beads and feathers clacked, hoping Gregor would sense the implicit threat and keep his distance. “Just trying for a little upward mobility, boss. Like you said, you never wanted to be in charge. But I didn’t want to be right-hand woman to somebody with no ambition. I figured, if I made you believe Marla was going to kill you, you’d kill her, and in the power vacuum that followed, I’d be able to move you into the top spot. The Chamberlain doesn’t want the job, and the other sorcerers don’t trust Viscarro, so you were the obvious choice for top man.”

  “This is madness,” Gregor said. “When Marla finds out, she’ll kill you, not me.”

  “Oh, I imagine she’d kill both of us. She’s not one to worry about complexities, you know? Anyway, she’d kill me for trying to bust Elsie Jarrow out of the Blackwing Institute anyway, if she ever found out I was the one behind that.”

  “You what?” He looked more horrified than angry now. “You weakened the seals on Jarrow’s prison? Gods, you weren’t in the city back then, you don’t know what it was like when she went mad, it was worse than the things Reave did! Jarrow is pure floating death!”

  “I figured she’d stir up a lot of chaos, that’s for sure,” Nicolette said. “And distract Marla, which would make killing her easier. All the disorder in the city would make my powers grow, so I’d be able to help you take over more easily.” She shrugged. “It didn’t work out, but Jarrow woke up Genevieve, and her appearance caused as much chaos as I could’ve hoped for. I’m still feeling strong.”

  “Yes, well, your plan didn’t work, did it? Marla survived our assassination attempts, and now she’s defeated Reave, and you and I are dead.”

  “Yeah. About that. I mean, you’re the only one who knows I tried to free Jarrow, and you’re the only one who knows I tricked you into trying to kill Marla. So if something happens to you…”

  “Traitor,” Gregor said.

  “Nah,” Nicolette said. “I’m no traitor. I’ve been true to the only one who counts—myself. I had a little chat with Marla when I called just now. I told her I was really pissed about you working with Reave, since he was such a woman-hating fuck, and that I regretted everything, and would do anything to redeem myself in her eyes. She didn’t want to believe me, but then she came up with a test of my loyalty.”

  “Oh, shit,” Gregor said.

  “Yeah. I’m supposed to kill you. So, bye, boss.” She plucked a few beads from her hair and tossed them at her mentor and master.

  There wasn’t much left of Gregor when her spell was done, but the dental records would prove it was him. Nicolette went upstairs, whistling. She’d cut a pretty nice deal with Marla. Gregor’s building belonged to her now. She couldn�
��t wait to start redecorating. Especially since Marla was going to make Rondeau help Nicolette paint and move furniture and do a month’s worth of shitwork to pay off his debt. She planned to clog every toilet in the place and make the little prick fix them. Life was sweet.

  Marla opened her eyes in a strange bedroom. Genevieve sat beside the bed, working on some knitting, of all things. “Can’t you just, like, wish complete sweaters into being?” Marla said.

  “Yes, but it’s more satisfying this way. Besides, it’s a scarf. For you. For those harsh Felport winters.”

  “I didn’t think we’d ever see you again,” Marla said, sitting up. “Is this your palace?”

  “As good as new. And a bit less, ah, architecturally eccentric. The past fifteen years were a sort of never-ending bad dream, and you helped wake me out of it. For that, I thank you. Without Reave’s constant assaults, my mind is much clearer.”

  “Dr. Husch says you can come back to the Blackwing Institute, if you want. She’s got some rooms for you—not a cell, just rooms. She thinks you could help with the therapy for the other patients.”

  Genevieve grimaced. “Marla, given the things I can do…I’m not sure it’s such a good idea for me to do more than briefly visit the world outside this dream. There have been other people with my power in history, and most of them disappear at some point. I think because they realize it’s better for everyone that way. There are probably a lot of floating bubble universes out there, ruled by little gods like me. I’m happy to have visitors, but I should stay away from your world. I just wanted to thank you for not killing me.”

  Marla laughed. “Don’t mention it.”

  “And…I’m sorry for the loss of your friends. Ted. Joshua, even though he proved to be a villain.”