Margot stopped at closed-down strip mall, glanced around for cameras, and then strolled over to a bank of phones so deep in the shadow cast by the flickering streetlight that Alex hadn’t even seen them. She inspected the phones from a distance with obvious distaste, and then pulled a set of latex gloves from her pocket and began sliding them on.
“Okay, okay,” Margot said, looking at the phones reluctantly. “Renton had an errand to run, and procedure demands that none of us be alone, until we are out of the field. Edward went with him, and Anastasia hates to walk, so I got you. Lucky me, right?”
“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal,” Alex complained. “I mean, Eerie already killed those Weir,” he said, immediately regretting having brought it up. “We are good, right?”
“Are you kidding me?” Margot stared at him in disbelief, and Alex felt very small indeed. “There have to be more. And anyway, I doubt that the silver one was dead.”
Margot shook her head, as if he had saddened her.
“I knew that was him,” Alex said with conviction. “I knew I had seen that bastard somewhere before. But, he sure looked dead…”
“Bet he did after Mitsuru was done with him, too,” Margot said, “and look how that worked out. I’ve never actually seen a silver one before, Alex, but they are supposedly very hard to kill.”
“Do we need, like, silver bullets, or something?”
Margot shook her head dismissively.
“More like a train to hit him with,” she said grimly, “or a cruise missile. Or,” she added, reaching for the handset, “Mitsuru, assuming you plan on letting me make this phone call.”
--
“Where did Renton go? And the cute one who never talks?”
“Edward?”
“Right. Him. Where did they go?”
Anastasia continued to stare at the television, the evening news turned on, with the volume turned off. The information was so dated already, she could hardly believe anyone watched the news channels.
“I sent them on an errand,” Anastasia said, glancing over at the changeling lying on the plush, queen-sized bed opposite her own, and then flipping the TV off. “There was something I wanted to talk to you about, anyway.”
Anastasia sat up and turned to face Eerie, smoothing the wrinkles from her black silk dress. Eerie looked over at Anastasia, propping her head up on her elbow, appearing genuinely surprised.
“Really? Because if this is about the cartel thing, then it’s very nice of you to offer, but…”
Anastasia waved her off, looking a bit distracted.
“No, Eerie, nothing like that,” Anastasia said, “I am not trying to recruit you.” Anastasia paused, then smiled at her. “At least not at the moment.”
Eerie stared at her blankly. Anastasia sighed, and shook her head.
“I will be direct, then,” Anastasia said unhappily, her hands folded in her lap in front of her, her posture rigid, her eyes boring into Eerie. “What is there between you and Alex?”
Eerie turned an immediate bright red, and hurriedly looked away. Anastasia had to stifle a laugh. They were two easy, Alex and Eerie both. She almost couldn’t help herself.
“N-nothing,” Eerie sputtered, still looking conspicuously away from Anastasia with all the guile of a guilty child. “Well, just friends. I mean, we only met recently, and…”
“Why did you ask Svetlana to send the two of you to San Francisco, then?” Anastasia asked patiently. “That is out of the ordinary, even for you, Eerie.”
Anastasia waited, her eyes fixed on Eerie. The impasse was not long. Eerie hung her head in resignation.
“You’re scary, Anastasia,” Eerie hummed quietly. “I am helping Alex. I didn’t do anything bad.”
Anastasia sat up, and reached over to pat Eerie on the knee. She noticed that Eerie had found time to buy cute patterned pajamas. She wondered what kind of underwear she had bought, with an internal smirk.
“Why Alex, though? Why are you interested in helping him?”
Eerie got flustered again, but this time, she didn’t look away.
“Well, he helped me,” Eerie said reluctantly. “And he is… interesting. Don’t you think so, Anastasia?”
“Very.”
“And also,” Eerie continued, quietly, almost as if she were talking to herself, “he seems nice, don’t you think?”
Anastasia felt pity for Eerie, momentarily, and then squashed it. Now was not the time to be sentimental, she reminded herself. She decided to risk pushing a little harder.
“No, Ériu, I don’t think so,” Anastasia said casually. “But, if you do, then shouldn’t you consider what getting close to you could do to that ‘nice’ boy? It doesn’t end well for humans who get involved with changelings, you know. Or have you forgotten your family history?”
Anastasia waited for a response, and when she didn’t get one, looked over at Eerie. Later, she would applaud her own composure, masking the surprise she’d felt, keeping her face impassive. In the moment, however, she was too stunned for self-congratulation.
Eerie was staring at her, sitting up at the edge of the bed, her posture rigid and her expression stormy, her eyes as clear and cold as the stream near Anastasia’s childhood home. And also, Anastasia realized, Eerie was emitting a subtle, shifting radiance; as she watched, Eerie’s irises ran the gamut between bright blue and murky hazel, one shade blending into the next. Around her, tiny motes of light spun and danced, making periodic lazy half-revolutions about her, leaving behind brilliant, multi-colored trails, each particle part of a golden cloud, a shifting, fluid expanse of light that radiated out from where Eerie sat.
Anastasia thought that maybe her ploy had worked a little too well.
“Mistress of the Black Sun or no, be careful what you call me,” Eerie warned, her voice cool and subtly menacing. The musical quality her voice normally had was entirely absent, replaced with a composed iciness. “I cooperated with you because our interests in this matter aligned. That does not make us allies, Anastasia.”
Anastasia smiled, her suspicions confirmed.
“Finally, you come out to play, Ériu.” Anastasia looked impressed. “I had an inkling, of course, but it was too hard to be sure. Tell me, then, what do you have planned for little Eerie? And what about Alex? I never would have imagined you were the romantic type.”
Eerie’s eyes narrowed, her irises changing color like an oil slick in the sun, her skin translucent and permeated with an amber luminescence.
“I will not answer your questions. I am not one of your servants, and I do not care how long your shadow has grown.”
The changeling’s face contorted into an inhumanly rigid sneer, so different from Eerie’s normal expression that Anastasia could barely see the resemblance. Anastasia felt a little bit bad for Alex, despite himself.
“Take my warning to heart, whelp. You have been compensated in full for your part in this. I am under no obligation to share my designs with you, regardless of our previous collaboration. I advise you not to interfere in my affairs, with the boy, or anything else. We will not speak again.”
“Fine,” Anastasia said airily. “You don’t have to be a bitch about it.”
After a moment, the light around Eerie dissipated and her eyes slowly refocused. She sat back on the bed, looking self-conscious, and then turned her attention back to the mute TV screen and the crawl of numbers that represented an abstraction of the world economy. After a little while, Anastasia also resumed watching the silent television.
“So, you do like him,” Anastasia remarked cheerfully a few moments later.
She managed to keep the smile off her face until she heard Eerie stomp off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Like children, she thought. All too easy.
--
Alex looked at the streets around him, confused, and then over at Margot.
“Hey, Margot? Is this the way back to the hotel?”
Margot seemed to find something in the building
s across the street that required her urgent attention.
“Round about,” Margot said finally, still avoiding eye-contact. “Wanted to check and see if we picked up any company, before we took it back with us. And,” Margot added, reluctantly, “there was something I wanted to talk to you about, anyway. She isn’t what you think she is, you know. Eerie, I mean.”
Alex sighed, and looked over at Margot. The bar behind her made heavy use of blue and pink neon, and she was weirdly illuminated by it as she walked underneath the signs, almost otherworldly. Literally otherworldly, Alex corrected himself.
“Are we still talking about this? Did Anastasia put you up to it?”
Margot looked perturbed, stepping neatly around the blankets and cardboard boxes of a homeless encampment, which extended out from the alcove of a gated electronics store to encompass the inner half of the sidewalk. Alex looked away from the eyes he saw there, shining in the darkness, feeling an obscure and fleeting shame.
“I’ve known Eerie since she was little. We’ve been neighbors, since we arrived at the Academy, and because no one else would talk to us, we ended up spending a lot of time together.” Margot frowned, momentarily, and then continued on. “I am working for the Black Sun right now, Alex. But, it is a temporary arrangement. I’m not one of Anastasia’s creatures. I’m somebody who helps out, in return for an appropriate fee.”
“I’ve always wanted to ask,” Alex said, with more malice than he’d intended, “why didn’t you do something about Steve, that day in the cafeteria? You were right next to her, after all.”
Margot was silent for a while after that, and Alex started to wonder if he’d gone too far with his last comment. Somewhere in the city around them, not too far, a woman or a child screamed, the sound starting high and piercing, like a siren, and then slowly modulating down, and then trailing away to nothing. The silence that followed was more disturbing than the scream.
“We aren’t friends Alex, she’s just someone I’ve known for a long time,” Margot said curtly. “My profession doesn’t allow for much in the way of personal relationships. And I’m not about to start compensating for Eerie’s social inadequacies. If Steve was a real threat, I would have stopped him. He is a petty bully. Not my concern.”
Alex laughed and looked up at the moon, jaundiced and huge, like that first night, with the Weir, the night that the world opened up to reveal another world inside of it, like one of those little Russian dolls. It seemed wrong that the moon should still look the same, when everything else felt so different to him.
“Are you sure? Because it doesn’t really look that way, to me.”
Margot shook her head. Alex had gotten used to her pigtails, and she looked a bit strange to him with her hair down.
“Are you any different, Alex? We are all mercenaries, if you think about it. The lucky ones get to negotiate their own terms of sale. That’s all there is to it. Don’t think they won’t find a way to buy you. You’re lucky they are even interested.”
Alex shrugged and gave her a half-hearted smile to cover his confusion. They walked along in silence for a short time, passing through a block crowded with small restaurants and bars, each spilling patrons and cooking smells out onto the sidewalk.
“Alex, do you know what vampires are?”
Margot’s eyes were cold as she looked at him. Alex laughed, the sound carried away by a rush of passing traffic. He’d been in Central so long, it felt strange and crowded here.
“Oh, what my life has become,” he said, smirking. “Please, go ahead and tell me.”
Margot eyed him coldly.
“Remember the nanomachines that they injected you with, when you first got to the Academy? The ones that saved your life?” Margot’s eyes narrowed as she spoke, but her tone remained cold and flat. “Well, they ended mine.”
Alex looked at Margot blankly.
“Oh, didn’t they tell you? Those nanites kill a third of the people they introduce them into.”
Alex shook his head, feeling a bit ill. Michael had mentioned that there was a mortality rate, of course, and he’d even said that it was high – but Alex had never suspected anything along those lines. He fought a bizarre desire to scratch at the now invisible spot on his upper arm where the IV had plugged in.
“That’s why the Hegemony objects so much to the Black Sun’s philosophy of mass-introduction to the populace at large,” Margot said with a shrug. “They are imagining a few billion corpses.”
Alex failed to keep the horror off his face, and Margot seemed amused by it.
“Obviously, to Anastasia’s crowd, that kind of thing goes with the territory,” Margot said, shrugging. “Anyway, if your body rejects the nanomachines, cardiac and respiratory arrest starts almost immediately, followed by total brain death. Fast and irreversible. But they can’t just bag the body and call the morgue, at least, not right away.”
Pausing for effect, Margot seemed to soak up the curiosity and repulsion she could see on Alex’s face.
“They trundle the bodies on down to the basement of the medical building, where the only vampire on staff works, an old guy named Jorge, who’s had the job for decades now. I don’t blame him for not giving it up; after all, it seems pretty damn easy, as long as you aren’t squeamish, and don’t mind the hours.”
She deftly maneuvered her way through a crowd of smokers outside of a packed, faux Irish-themed pub, carving a path through the drunks and the underdressed girls who lined the sidewalk, raising her voice so that Alex could hear her while they walked.
“Jorge keeps an eye on the bodies, Alex. Weird guy. For three days, twenty-four hours a day, for everyone who rejects the nanites. And most of the time, that’s his whole job – staring at corpses.”
Margot turned back and looked over her shoulder, giving Alex an almost feral grin. For the first time, he noticed that she did in fact have fangs – or rather, a pair of subtly elongated canine teeth, the points of which peaked out from underneath her pale lips when she smiled.
“He gets a lot of reading done. Except, of course, when one of them sits up and starts screaming.”
“How often does that happen?” Alex asked, morbidly curious.
“Not that often,” Margot said, slowing her pace as the sidewalk cleared, so that Alex could walk more easily alongside her. “In the time I’ve been at the Academy, it’s only happened twice.”
“You woke up needing to drink blood after a three day coma? That seems a little unlikely.”
Margot laughed dismissively.
“Hardly. There was no coma. I died, Alex. I died, and then three days later, the nanites woke me up. They’d repaired the damage to my body, and made a few other small changes while they were at it.”
Margot took obvious satisfaction from the horror she saw in his face.
“Are you… you know,” Alex asked hesitantly, looking at her with a certain amount of trepidation, “dead? You don’t seem like it.”
“It’s hard to say,” Margot admitted. “I don’t feel dead. My heart beats, I need to breathe, I get hungry – I even have hay fever in the spring. But that isn’t everything. Something is… wrong.”
Margot shook her head and looked up at the night sky. Maybe her eyes were different from Alex’s, but he couldn’t see anything besides a dull humidity that reflected the city’s ambient light back, a moist grey blanket hovering over the bay, and the fat yellow moon behind it.
“The last thing I remember is agreeing to the introduction,” Margot said, quiet enough that Alex had to walk closer to her to hear. “I remember that it burned, in my arm, where they put the IV in. I could tell from the look on the doctor’s face that was something was wrong, I remember Michael yelling something. Then there was a terrible pain in my chest, and then after that, nothing at all…”
Margot trailed off for a moment, frowning.
“When I woke up, my chest didn’t hurt anymore,” Margot said, shrugging. “And nothing else has much, since then.”
“Wow. T
hat’s all kinds of fucked up. I mean, I tend to think that they shit that’s happened to me is pretty damn bad, but that’s really a whole lot worse…”
“Thanks. I think.”
“I still don’t really understand…”
Margot sighed, as she stepped deftly around an assortment of broken glass and sleeping transients. The sidewalk here was stained brownish-red, for reasons Alex preferred not to think about.
“The nanites inside you,” Margot said, pointing at Alex. “Help repair and maintain your body, right? If you get hurt, they help you heal, if you get sick, they help fight the disease. Did you know that you’re more-or-less immune to cancer? I think the administration started playing that part down, lately, to try and discourage smoking.”
Margot smiled slightly at this, then hooked a thumb at herself.
“Those same nanites malfunction inside me, Alex. And not only when they killed me. When they brought me back, too. Your body is permeated with nanites, true, but mine is contaminated with them,” Margot said grimly. “Among other little changes they made, the nanites purged all the marrow from my bones and replaced them with a mass of nanoassemblers. No bone marrow, no hemoglobin.”
“But why can’t the nanites make hemoglobin for you? Michael said they can manufacture tissue and stuff, even bone.”
“Yours can,” Margot said, bitterly. “Mine can’t. Mine can’t produce any kind of living tissue. Nothing biological.”
Alex had a whole series of alarming thoughts.
“So what happens when you get hurt? If your body can’t heal, and the nanomachines can’t repair damage, then…”
“Synthetic replacements.”
The vampire held up one arm in the sickly yellow light of a flickering street light, looking at it wistfully, the way people look at childhood photos.
“Two years ago, I was working a field op in Tbilisi, clearing out a Witch coven. One night, while we were purging the old cemetery, a Ghoul managed to take a big chunk out of my arm.”
“What the hell is a Ghoul?”
The Academy Page 37
