Trancehack

by Sonya Clark

  Taking up position at the back, Nate looked out over the dance floor hoping to spot Calla. There was such a mass of people, even more than on his first visit, that he couldn’t make out much about individuals. From the high vantage point he could tell the floor was circular in shape. The bar in the center was circular too, but what looked like random lines of lights from the floor now took the shape of a star inside a circle from above.

  Vadim stood in the center of the gangplank. One of his guards brought him a microphone. The music decreased in volume over the space of about thirty seconds. It took the crowd a little longer to realize it was gone. First there was a hum of voices, then it dropped off as more people realized the music had stopped. A spotlight shone on Vadim, causing a swell of cheers and applause.

  “All my lovelies!” Vadim greeted the crowd, raising his free arm in an expansive gesture. “Welcome to Sinsuality!”

  The crowd roared back. Vadim ate it up, waving and smiling like a king addressing his subjects. “And how are my lovelies doing on this beautiful full moon?”

  Another roar, lusty and excited.

  “Are you ready to dance with the Goddess tonight?”

  Jubilation swept through the dance floor, with many of the Magic Born sending streamers of light into the air. Nate watched the miniature fireworks show in fascinated awe.

  “Of course, to do this right we need ourselves a priestess. From the lottery of names I’ve drawn...” Vadim paused for effect, making the crowd beg for it. With a grin he relented. “Calla Vesper!”

  Nate started, leaning further out to search for her. She came out of the crowd at the far corner of the floor, smiling broadly and bouncing with energy. Nate didn’t know anything about any lottery of names, but he didn’t think for a minute this was a coincidence. Calla climbed on top of the bar, waving at Vadim.

  “Let’s have quiet, please, while our priestess prepares herself.”

  Gradually the crowd settled. Calla stood with her arms loose at her sides, head slightly lowered, eyes closed. An eerie silence fell, strange in such a large and boisterous crowd. The room darkened. Nate looked around and found the miasma of glowing lights that provided illumination winking out one by one. For at least a full minute, maybe two, the club was silent and dark.

  Calla’s voice broke through. The words were meaningless to him at first, but then he was able to pick them apart. It was some sort of chant and it sounded like names. Some of them, through the fog of green booze still heavy in his head, he recognized from history and mythology lessons in school.

  “Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate, Demeter, Kali, Inanna.”

  She repeated the chant several times, her disembodied voice floating through the dark. As his eyes adjusted, Nate could make out the blurry edges of her form, the hot pink streaks in her hair. The crowd joined in the chant, their collective voice swelling and powerful. A tiny red light appeared in Calla’s hand—her laser pointer wand.

  As the chant echoed through the cavernous room, Calla pointed her wand at the north end of the building. Green light flared into existence above the heads of the crowd, pulsing with the rhythm of the chant. She repeated the gesture three more times, producing a different color each time. Yellow in the east corner, red in the south, blue in the west. The chanting grew louder, fuller. Nate found himself moving to the sway of the words.

  The red dot of Calla’s wand disappeared. He could see her more clearly now with the added light. A strange radiance emanated from her, as if she was lit from within. She crossed her arms over her chest, then spread them to her sides again, hands stretched out. She threw her head back, her gaze directed at the ceiling.

  A dark mirror ball slowly descended, stopping about six feet above Calla’s head. She might have put her wand away, but it looked like others had taken theirs out or were using their hands to direct magic into the ball. Silver light flickered to life on its surface, shining and reflecting all across the room.

  The chant reverberated in Nate’s chest like a second heartbeat. He found himself mouthing the words, his eyes glued to Calla. Light cascaded from the mirror ball directly down onto her in a river of silver. Like moonlight, he thought. It enveloped her completely.

  Vadim added his voice to the chant over the microphone. As the chant became stronger, so did the light pouring into Calla. The air around her shimmered and crackled, the strange sight spreading through the room in a spiral. The hair on Nate’s arms stood on end. His skin buzzed with sensation.

  With a suddenness that shocked him, the mirror ball went dark and the chanting stopped. The light around Calla stayed, bright as a full moon on a cloudless night. She began to move in a slow clockwise circle, turning her hands so one palm faced up and one faced down. Her eyes were barely open.

  “Do you feel that?” Vadim whispered into the mic. “Do you feel Her? She’s here with us now, under a full moon. This is our circle. This is our ritual. This is our magic.”

  The light around Calla intensified and she spun a little faster.

  “Goddess dances. God creates music to match her movements. He worships Her as we do. We bask in Her light and love and move with Her to the music.”

  Nate picked up the sound then, a swirling rhythm that built until it filled the dance hall. Calla whirled with it, somehow staying steady on her high perch.

  “The Goddess wants you to dance with Her. The Goddess wants you to make magic with her!”

  The music kicked into high gear. The mass of people seemed to move as one, jumping up and down in exultation. The fireworks displays started again, lighting the place up with their flashing colors and abstract patterns. Calla’s circle became a dance and the mirror ball exploded to life. Nate blinked against the onslaught.

  Vadim cried out, “Who wants to dance with the Goddess?”

  Two men reached for Calla’s arms and helped her down from the bar. She moved through the throng of people, dancing with everyone near her. People made their way to her, just to dance with her for moments.

  Nate didn’t think about it. He left the gangplank for the dance floor at a fast walk. It took a couple of minutes to work his way through the thick crowd to reach her. Approaching her from the side, he stared at the light that still surrounded her. It moved with her body in ripples of silver through the air. He reached for her hand, brushing his fingers against hers. She turned to face him, never slowing down. Her blue-gray eyes shone with silver. Her skin shimmered with an otherworldly glow. Her smile was her own though, and she gave it to him freely. He released the breath he’d been holding, realizing he’d been afraid she’d turn away from him. Instead she took his hand, and they danced.

  * * *

  Calla breathed in the cool predawn air, letting it caress her bare arms and lift her sweaty hair. Her legs ached from dancing for hours, and she was hungry and thirsty and sleepy. None of it mattered. The night had been a gift.

  It wasn’t over yet. Shivering, she stepped closer to Nate, their arms bumping as they walked.

  As she walked and he stumbled.

  “Hey, drunky.” She pushed him away playfully. “Can’t believe a big guy like you can’t hold your tequila.”

  “I never got to finish my tequila,” he said. “Vadim gave me something else.”

  “Oh, shit.” She laughed. “No wonder. What was it?”

  He shrugged, veering off the sidewalk again. “Something green.”

  Calla swore again, serious this time. She pulled him back to the sidewalk even though there was no possibility of traffic unless a DMS patrol cruised through. If he started to go down, he’d be too big for her to pick up so it was better to keep him close and steer him. The fact that he was warm and made of muscle didn’t hurt. “Vadim shouldn’t have given you that stuff. It’s too strong.”

  “I’m fine. Booze doesn’t bother me.” He draped an arm over her shoulders, his weight
making her sag. He sounded weak and far away.

  “That stuff is made with nightshade. It makes you euphoric for a while, then you come down pretty hard. You’re coming down now.”

  Nate stopped, leaning one hand against the side of her building. At least they’d gotten this far. “Yeah, I don’t feel so good.”

  There was no way he could get himself home. She weighed escorting him home against letting him stay at her place. Both plans had their problems. If he collapsed on the way, she wouldn’t be able to move him. They’d probably get busted by uniforms and his status as a cop might not help. He might get in trouble; she definitely would. But if he stayed at her place, there was only the one bed. There would be no sharing it, though. He was too out of it, even if she were willing.

  He started to sit on the sidewalk and she made up her mind. Pulling on his arm she said, “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

  “I just need to rest a minute, then I can go home.”

  “You’re too fried to go anywhere, Nate. Come on.” She tugged at him again. This time he complied, leaning against her as they moved up the stairs and she unlocked her door.

  They stumbled inside. She barely got the door closed before he pushed her against the wall and pulled her into a kiss. Her feet left the floor as he dragged her up and held her pinned to the wall with his body. His hands roamed, finding the bottom of her camisole and pushing it up. His mouth was almost too much of a distraction, but she found her head and stopped his hand before it ventured too far north.

  “Settle down there, big guy. You’re too drunk for this.”

  His lips curved into a sensual smile. “I am never too drunk for this.” He trailed a path of kisses down the side of her neck, finding a couple of deliciously sensitive spots along the way.

  Calla swallowed a moan and wiggled away from his grip. He tried to catch her. She gave him a playful push that knocked him off balance and put him on his ass.

  “Oh, shit!” She tried to help him up but he was too heavy.

  Rubbing his temple he said, “Maybe I’m a little too tired. Or something.”

  “You need to sleep it off.” She tried once again to help him up, but he was both too big and too uncoordinated. Ultimately he wound up crawling as she directed him to the bed.

  He took another dive closer to unconsciousness while in the process of climbing into the bed. Straining with the effort, Calla pushed and pulled until his limbs were arranged all the way on the mattress, then leaned over to remove his shoes. When she dropped them to the floor, he grabbed her by the waist, settling her alongside him until they were dangerously close to cuddling.

  “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” he whispered into her hair.

  Her breath caught. Shaking her head, she said, “You are so drunk.”

  “Doesn’t mean it’s not true.” He stilled, drifting into sleep.

  His heavy arm kept her prisoner, preventing her from moving to the couch. That’s what she told herself before she fell asleep too.

  * * *

  Calla woke enveloped in warmth. As the fog of sleep lifted, she recalled the night before, and the source of that warmth. Her back was to his front, and he had one heavy arm draped over her waist with his hand nestled just below her breasts. Careful not to wake Nate, she maneuvered out from under his arm and slid to the floor. Rubbing her eyes and pushing the hair from her forehead, she watched him for a few minutes. His chest rose and fell in the deep breathing of slumber. He looked younger in sleep, the harsh angles of his face smoothed out. Without thinking she reached out to brush his hair, but she drew back when she realized what she was doing.

  A hot, sickening panic filled her. Coffee. That’s what she needed. Coffee and a shower and to find her damn mind because clearly she’d lost it. No Normal was worth the hell she’d be put through, the ugly assumptions that would be made, for getting involved with one. Not even this one, who treated her with more respect than any other Normal she’d ever met. She stood and kicked the bed. “Hey!”

  Nate grunted in his sleep. She shook his shoulder hard, calling his name a little louder than necessary.

  “Okay, okay,” he said with a feeble attempt to push her hands away.

  Stepping back, she crossed her arms and glared. He took his sweet time sitting up.

  A smile died on his lips when he saw her expression. “Back to that again, huh?”

  “Back to what?” She pretended to not know what he meant. “You need to go.”

  He rose, stretching, muscles putting on a display beneath his shirt. “Not the morning cuddle type, I take it.”

  “You need to be out of here and away from my door before someone sees you!”

  “Or what, they’ll think we spent the night together? We did.”

  “The only reason I let you stay was because you were too drunk to get yourself home. I did you a favor, now do me one and leave.”

  He stared, the hurt look on his face sparking an uneasy guilt in Calla. She shoved it away and glared back.

  “Calla, what are you afraid of?”

  “I’m not afraid of anything. I don’t get involved with Normals.”

  “Look, Vadim talked to me about that last night.”

  “Oh, you guys good buddies now? How cute. Next time I see you in the club drunk off your ass I’ll leave you for him to take care of.”

  “Why are you so angry with me? We kissed, we danced, we slept together. Why is that so bad?”

  Calla bolted for the kitchen, slamming the coffee makings around. “I’m not having this conversation. You need to leave!”

  He stood with one hand on his hip, the other rubbing the back of his neck. “Vadim told me how some Normals treat the Magic Born. I’m not like that, Calla. I don’t think of you as something—as some exotic toy.”

  “Well you should because that’s all I could ever be to someone like you. But I won’t be that, so there’s nothing here for you.” She found something fascinating on the counter to stare at.

  “Don’t say that.”

  “What do you think is going to happen here? You think we can go on dates? Think you can tell your family you’re seeing a girl who lives in the zone? I mean, seriously.”

  “I don’t know,” he said, his voice quiet. “I just know how I feel.”

  Afraid he would spell it out in no uncertain terms, she didn’t ask him how he felt. “It doesn’t matter. There’s no point so just go.”

  “You’re upset and you’re scared, so I will go. For now. But I’m not giving up on you.”

  His voice held the same warmth as his body, the same sweetness as his touch. If she looked at him she’d be lost, so she kept her eyes on the counter until she heard the door close behind him.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nate turned his phone back on as he neared the subway station. Three text messages from Henry blinked for his attention. The lab tech wanted to meet in person. Rather than return the messages, Nate decided he would go in a little early Monday and catch Henry at the end of his shift.

  A shower and shave would usually have cleared his head, but his thoughts were no more ordered after than before. Nothing Vadim and Calla said about relationships between Normals and Magic Born could be disputed, especially not by someone with little experience in a zone city. It all made sense and dovetailed with what he knew of the laws. He couldn’t just turn off his feelings though. And he didn’t think Calla could either, no matter what she said.

  Staring at the walls wasn’t helping. A walk around the block, a strong cappuccino, maybe download a new book later to get his mind off things. After two circuits around the neighborhood, he ducked into the coffee shop near his apartment. The wait took longer than usual due to a long line of students. He ignored them at first, but gradually some of their conversation drifted through.

/>   “The sanctions are never gonna be lifted as long as the laws stay the same.”

  “Did you see the look on the professor’s face when I said the UN used to be headquartered in this country? I thought he was going to choke.”

  “What did you expect? He teaches what’s in the textbook and we’re not supposed to know that. Or at least not talk about it.”

  “We’ve been trying to save up for the passport and student visa, but the fuckers went and raised the fee again. Oxford’s not gonna happen.”

  “With your grades? Can you apply for aid?”

  The kid snorted. “From who? No money, no school. You know how it is.”

  “My cousin got a hardship scholarship from some other school in England. I don’t remember which one.”

  “When was that? I never heard of anything like that.”

  “I dunno, five, ten years ago. But then she skipped out when her visa was up and asked for asylum.”

  An older student in front said, “That’s why you don’t hear about those scholarships anymore. Too many people got asylum and never came back. The government put a stop to it, which led to yet more sanctions. Lucky us.”

  The kid wanting to go to Oxford glanced behind him at Nate. “I think we need to change the subject.”

  They switched to talking about bands popular on campus. Nate wondered not for the first time if he really did have cop tattooed on his forehead.

  Since coming to live in a zone city, he’d noticed people were more willing to talk about their unhappiness with the government. It happened in his hometown, but on a much smaller scale and far more quietly. He supposed getting an up close and personal view of what the Magic Laws did made a difference, at least for some. Several people from zone cities in his infantry unit had never come back from shore leave in Australia. They’d just slipped off base one night and gone AWOL and it had never been investigated. Why bother? Everyone knew the reasons, and it had nothing to do with objecting to military service. As long as the service was the easiest way to pay for an education and therefore at least some hope of a halfway decent job, there would always be more recruits.