The Felix Chronicles: Tides of Winter

by R. T. Lowe

  Felix laughed, but he tempered it, feeling awful about her predicament. Allison had taken a bath in the Numbered One’s blood and it really was gross. There was no way around it. She gathered herself and managed to get the worst of it from her face. Her jacket was ruined, completely unsalvageable. As Felix torched it, Allison complained that he owed her a new one and that she wouldn’t complain if he also threw in a few pairs of boots. As for the headless creature, they left it in the street, thinking the neighbors would be comforted in the morning when they came upon the corpse of the monster that had been terrorizing their neighborhood.

  “What do you think a Deathhead is?” Felix asked as they retraced their steps to Spoonwood, walking fast. They were both eager to escape Oakmont, and Allison was especially eager to get back to the dorm and into the showers before everyone began to stir.

  Allison gave him a stern look. “I was going to ask that question before you sent its head into the next zip code.”

  Felix stared at her for a moment, feigning shocked disbelief. “You give me a hard time about Sophia and being a ‘Restrainer’ and then you give me a hard time when I decapitate a monster.” He grinned at her. “I’m starting to think nothing’s good enough for you. You’re becoming very high maintenance. And a bit of a nag.”

  Allison laughed, widening her eyes at him. “How’d you like some monster blood on you?” She buried her face in his chest and scrubbed it back and forth against his sweatshirt, streaking it black.

  “That was totally uncalled for!” Felix laughed and lunged for her.

  Allison shrieked in surprise and eluded his grasp, backpedaling away, laughing so hard she could barely breathe. “Stay away from me, you freak!”

  “Freak?” Felix exclaimed. “Now you’re calling me a freak?” With a burst, Felix scooped up Allison and tossed her over a shoulder, breaking into a gallop.

  Allison squealed in protest and swatted his butt, yelling “Yee-haw” as Felix broke into a dizzying sprint, flying through the streets of Oakmont.

  Chapter 11

  THE PRODUCER

  Bill peeked out at The Yard from his office window, spreading the blinds with his fingers. It appeared to be a typical morning, kids on their way to class toting umbrellas, braving another rainy day. Bill had felt the eyes of the watchers as he crossed the campus, and even now, alone and behind closed doors, he knew AshCorp’s Internal Security was observing him. There was no such thing as typical.

  His phone rang and he took it from his pocket, a local number he didn’t recognize.

  “Hello,” Bill answered, expecting to hear a pitch about an opportunity to extend the warranty on his car.

  “Hi! Is this William Stout?” It was a man’s voice. “I’m trying to reach William Stout.”

  “Speaking,” Bill said cautiously.

  “This is Graham Senden from channel eight news. I was made aware of an email that you sent Connie Redgrave a little over two weeks ago.”

  Bill was immediately suspicious. “Did Connie see it?”

  “No. Connie gets a lot of email—mostly fan mail I’d call it—and the rest gets sifted through by an analyst. We call her an analyst, but her background’s in law enforcement and she specializes in threat assessment. She sees a lot of junk, pranks and hate mail I guess you’d call it, but every once in a while, someone will send in an anonymous tip or an idea for a story and then it gets bumped up to the producers. Your email is, um, well, it’s very interesting.”

  “You’re a producer?” Bill asked.

  “The producer,” Graham said. “Sorry, I should have mentioned that at the outset. It’s a recent promotion actually. I’m the producer of The Nation with Connie Redgrave.”

  “Congratulations,” Bill said, his doubts fading, “on the promotion.” He’d seen the show—and liked it. It was the least sycophantic of the nightly news programs.

  “Thanks. So anyway, so, um, so yeah, so Connie doesn’t actually see any emails that come into the station until they’ve been vetted by me. To be perfectly honest, this is the first one I’ve ever responded to. You claim to have something the New Government would do anything to suppress, which is obviously something we would be interested in, depending of course on what we’re talking about. Is it something you have first-hand knowledge of? A conversation with someone or something you heard?” He paused for a second then continued when Bill didn’t respond. “Or is it more along the lines of evidence, something physical, like a video.”

  Bill hesitated. “Its physical evidence.”

  “Okay,” Graham said slowly. “Can you tell me what it is?

  “Not over the phone.”

  The line went silent for a moment. “You can mail it to me if you like. My last name’s Senden.” Bill listened as Graham spelled it out for him. “Or you can drop it off at the station. If you come around noon, just tell security you have something for me and I can come down to the lobby and get it. Does that work?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.” Graham sounded surprised. “Are you concerned about your safety?”

  “Yes. And yours once they know you have it.”

  “They?”

  “The evidence I have in my possession, Graham, has the power to unwind everything. The ERA’s control of the government. The Freedom Bill. The imprisonment and exile of the Old Government. It will change… everything.”

  “Okay. Look, William, I’d be an idiot if I believed you and maybe a bigger idiot if I didn’t. But you need to get this evidence to me. You contacted us, remember? You sound like you’re scared of something and I know where you’re coming from. I’ve seen some things lately that raise a lot of questions. I don’t know if you watch my show, but I can tell you we do our best to present an unbiased and objective account of the state of the nation. It’s been, well, much harder than I’d anticipated. There are some variables I hadn’t accounted for, pressure to report the news with a certain, well, spin, so if you really have physical evidence that can turn this whole thing on its head, then, yeah, I’d say your fear isn’t unfounded. You pick the place and I’ll meet you. Wherever you’re comfortable. There’s a Starbucks a block from my building.” Graham laughed. “There’s a Starbucks a block from every building here.”

  Bill pushed the blinds aside and looked out. The paths were almost empty, the students depositing themselves in buildings across campus. The clock tower—Little Ben—began to toll its thunderous tones. “Let me think about it. Is this a personal line?”

  “It’s my cell,” Graham said.

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  Chapter 12

  KAYLA

  An uneventful week had gone by since Felix and Allison successfully rid the Oakmont section of Portland of its Numbered One problem. The discovery of the creature’s headless body had generated quite a media buzz and the story went national. Good Morning America ran a segment two days ago focusing on the creature’s mysterious and violent death and the wild speculation regarding what might have killed it. Felix and Allison thought it was all very amusing when a local MMA instructor, a collector of replica samurai swords, and a Boy Scout troop leader all claimed responsibility.

  With an hour to kill before their next class, they decided to grab coffees at the Caffeine Hut, taking a table next to the fireplace. The few dying embers were in need of fresh wood, but Allison always liked sitting by the fire, even when the staff neglected it.

  “Today’s the day,” she said. “Last chance to turn in your guns before the New Government takes them and executes you.”

  Felix set down his mug. “That just sounds crazy, doesn’t it? When you say it out loud, it just sounds so… insane. Executes. You think the New Government’s really going to start killing people?”

  “Doesn’t look like it,” Allison said doubtfully. “You saw the news. There’s thousands of people at that wildlife refuge. What’s it called? Wakatuk? And most of them are waving their guns around—and the same thing’s happening at those other places. They’re not trying to
hide them either. It’s almost like they’re flaunting their refusal to turn them in, daring the New Government to confiscate them. Lofton may have underestimated how strongly people feel about their guns and the second amendment.”

  Felix blew out a breath and shook his head. “You think Lofton’s surprised by anything? All those people showing off their guns to the cameras are breaking the law. I think they’re underestimating the New Government.”

  Allison drank from her mug, frowning in thought. “Lofton wouldn’t dare, would he? Wakatuk is like a small city now. There’s seventy or eighty thousand people there and even more at the one in Arizona and some of the others back east. There’s just too many people for the New Government to arrest. That’s why Professor Hamlen’s telling everyone to go to the nearest protest site and demonstrate.”

  “Safety in numbers,” Felix muttered. “I keep thinking of this show I saw on the Discovery Channel that explained why fish travel in schools. Each little fishie is hoping the barracuda will snag the little fishie next to it—better him than me, right? But what happens when it’s not a barracuda? What happens when it’s a shark?”

  “I don’t think Lofton’s going to do anything too drastic,” Allison insisted. “The New Government risks alienating its support if it arrests that many people.” Allison’s expression grew troubled and she stared over Felix’s shoulder as if something outside the high arching windows had caught her eye.

  “What is it?” Felix turned his head. The bistro was quiet this morning. Most of the kids coming in were getting their caffeine to go.

  “I was just thinking about the public reaction to all this. For as many people as there are protesting the Bill of Freedom at these takeover sites—the Opposition or Rejectionists or whatever they’re calling them—there’s ten times that many out in the streets demanding the New Government take action. They actually want to kill these people. They want the government to arrest them, try them and execute them. It’s a little scary how much hate and—”

  “Mind if I join you?” a voice said, and before either Felix or Allison had time to respond, the extra chair was occupied by a girl with short midnight black hair, her bangs covering her forehead. She smiled and placed her forearms on the table, lacing her fingers together.

  “Do we know you?” Allison asked, staring at her in surprise.

  Felix didn’t know what to say so he just stared at the girl. She was pretty and looked a bit older than them. Maybe a senior? Whatever she was, Felix was sure he hadn’t seen her before.

  “No, but I know you,” the girl replied with the ease of someone who was comfortable in their own skin. “My name’s Kayla, formerly a Drestianite and currently waiting to see if the Order accepts my application.”

  “What…?” Felix sputtered.

  Kayla laughed, a nice laugh that wasn’t biting or sarcastic. “That was a terrible line. Sorry. I told myself I wouldn’t lead with it, but I’ve been known to have impulse control issues. I’m friends with Professor Malone and he speaks very highly of you. I’m really happy to meet you guys.”

  “You’re in the Order?” Allison asked, lowering her voice, eyes darting around the bistro.

  “Technically no,” she answered. “I wasn’t kidding about my application. I’m sort of in limbo right now until a few things get straightened out.”

  Felix watched her, wondering if this was a set up. She appeared friendly, but so had Sophia. Protectors, after all, didn’t walk around with signs around their necks announcing their affiliation. The Caffeine Hut, however, was a public place, and if she really meant to harm them this wouldn’t be the way to do it.

  “So,” Felix began unsteadily, “you’re a… a…”

  “Sourceror?” Kayla finished, raising her dark eyebrows toward the ceiling.

  She glanced quickly over each shoulder then stared down at the space on the table between her arms. A mug of coffee appeared before their eyes, curls of steam rising from the surface and drifting away like morning mist in a swirling breeze.

  Kayla smiled. “You have no idea how much money you can save when you bring your own.”

  Allison bent forward in her chair, staring intently at the mug. “Is it… is it real?”

  Kayla shook her head. “I’m an Illusionist. If I can imagine it, I can create it. Well, not really create it.” She dipped her finger straight down into the liquid, and though it disappeared up to the knuckle, she didn’t wince in pain. “It’s not hot,” she confirmed.

  Felix leaned across the table to get a closer look, bringing his face so close the wafting ribbons of steam should have tickled his—

  A shark leaped from the dark liquid, snapping at his face and splashing back to its little pool where it swam in a circle, its dorsal and tail fins knifing through the coffee.

  Felix gasped and put a hand to his face, protecting it in case the miniature shark made another attempt for his nose. He must have looked comical because Kayla began to laugh, and then Allison joined in.

  “Very funny,” Felix grumbled, sinking into his chair, Allison’s laughter putting him at ease. “Anyone would’ve jumped.”

  “Sorry,” Kayla said, “I couldn’t resist.” She lowered her eyes to the cup of coffee and it disappeared. “I hope that answers your question.”

  “That is pretty cool,” Felix admitted.

  Allison nodded in agreement.

  “Thanks,” Kayla said cheerfully. “I’d rather conjure coffee than some of the things I’ve been doing lately.”

  “You were a Drestianite?” Allison spoke in a soft voice. “How does a Drestianite know Professor Malone?”

  Kayla smiled at her. “Ready for the Wikipedia version of my life? Okay, so, where do I start? Dr. Malone—Professor Malone’s wife—was an ER surgeon in Sacramento. I ran away from my home—foster home actually—when I was twelve and got myself into some trouble more times than I’d like to admit. One night, just after I’d turned eighteen, I got caught pickpocketing the wrong guy’s wallet and he stabbed me in the stomach. A cop came across me bleeding all over myself out on the street and he drove me to the hospital. Dr. Malone patched me up. She must’ve felt sorry for me, or sensed something, because she took me in, and when I showed her what I could do with my illusions, she saw it as an opportunity. She put me up in an apartment and found me a job waitressing, but I was really trying to get taken by one of Lofton’s testers. I made myself a target as often as I could. I took walks every night at the same time, the same route, always alone.” She shuddered. “Yes, it was scary as hell. Then one night about a month from my nineteenth birthday, I woke up in a storage locker with the Faceman telling me to move a tennis ball.”

  “The Faceman?” Felix’s heart throbbed in his temples and he felt his fingernails digging into his palms, the image of the Faceman’s terrible visage swimming before his eyes. “Really?”

  Kayla nodded, swallowing hard. “Of all the monsters Lofton has created, humanity created one that was far worse.” She smiled warmly at Felix. “You did the world a huge favor when you put that demon down.”

  Felix glanced down at his coffee, recalling the explosion of blood as the brick had demolished the Faceman’s head, and the way he fell in the high weeds, on his side, looking up at the sky. He didn’t feel regretful. In fact, the compliment from Kayla made him feel almost proud, the first time he’d ever felt that way about taking a life. Then again, the Faceman really was, as Kayla said, a demon.

  “Anyway,” Kayla continued, “I moved the tennis ball a smidge, though that’s not my thing, and he took me to an old warehouse in the middle of nowhere. A woman named Gracie picked me up and I spent the next few years learning to become a proper Drestianite under Commander Kiyoshi. Then Kiyoshi called me in one day and told me I was needed in Portland. Next thing I knew, I was living in Ashfield Forest and accompanying Lofton wherever he went. I took my orders from Lynch.” Kayla chewed nervously on her lower lip, glancing around the bistro. “I did some things I’m not proud of, but I guess, you know,
I didn’t have a choice. You can’t pretend to be a Drestianite then refuse to do what you’re told. Doesn’t really work that way.”

  “Who’s Lynch?” Allison asked.

  “Lofton’s second in command. He’s cruel and sadistic and he’s got no sense of humor—a real asshole.” She traced a line down her face. “If you come across a man with a scar that goes like this, either run like hell or unleash the hounds of hell, because anything in between will land you in the morgue.”

  “The tennis ball,” Allison said then hesitated as if something was troubling her. “You, um, you moved it, but you said it’s not your thing?”

  “All Sourcerors have telekinetic abilities,” Kayla said. “That’s why every tester tests kids the same way. I can move small things, but I hate doing it. I feel like my nose is going to bleed and it always leaves me feeling sick to my stomach.”

  Allison nodded, her eyes shining with curiosity. “How do you do it?”

  “He’s the one you should be asking.” Kayla nodded at Felix. “The silos you crushed those Numbered Ones with must have weighed tons. Literally tons. That was seriously impressive.”

  Felix and Allison stared at her, both wondering how she could have witnessed the battle at the rock quarry.

  “Yeah,” Kayla admitted somewhat sheepishly. “Lofton has it all on video. One of Kiyoshi’s people recorded the whole thing. That’s why Lofton talked to you. He watched it and said he wanted to meet you. Lofton thinks you’re the Belus. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I left the Drestianites.” She paused and turned her gaze on Felix, holding it with brown eyes flecked with green. “Are you? Are you the Belus?”