Arms on fire under the strain of gifts, I waddled through traffic and up the row toward my car. A sedan crept behind me, the driver stalking me for my parking spot. I tried to wave them past, but they missed my feeble gesture beneath the mounds of bags. When I reached my Honda, I dropped everything to the ground with a relieved sigh and stretched. My arms floated, unburdened.
“I’m not leaving,” I mouthed to the driver waiting impatiently behind me. The car didn’t move. I pointed at my Civic and shook my head. With a squeal of tires, the car darted around me. I popped open the trunk and threw all the bags in. When I turned around, another car idled in the aisle. I did the head shake and point sign language again, and they gunned past me.
I walked back to the mall stalked by a hopeful minivan and was actually relieved to mesh back into the crowds on the sidewalk.
Savoring a moment of freedom, I strolled back to Mom the long way, spraying citos on people I passed. I didn’t go out of my way to get any; there were plenty of people with citos in my path. When I reached the food court, my feet carried me straight through the bustling dining hall to the outdoor courtyard beyond.
“Joy to the World” bombarded me from hidden speakers and kids’ shrieks from the ice rink echoed against the walls of the two-story buildings. Exuberant decorators had gone overboard in the courtyard, though the black-and-white world of Primordium spared me most of the visual bombardment. A huge Douglas fir, bedecked in style and dying at the center of the courtyard, drained the last of the pleasure I’d derived from escaping the crowded mall corridors.
I beelined for an empty bench and collapsed onto the metal seat. Valentine jabbed my butt, and I leapt to my feet. I’d gotten so used to the feel of the strap across my chest I’d forgotten I was wearing him.
I ducked out of the strap and freed Valentine. A quick examination proved he was fine. No bent edges. No butt marks. What do butt marks look like on a book?
I flopped back against the cold metal and flipped Valentine open to the first page. It was blank.
“Are you okay?”
I don’t appreciate being slammed into tile.
Of course. Did I really think he’d forget me throwing him to the floor when I first saw the picture of a cito? “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize citos were going to be spiders.”
A spider is hardly an excuse to abuse a book.
“You’re right. I’ll be more careful. How’s the strap?”
Fine. Then, after a pause, Thank you.
I shut Val and slid him back into his strap. The balls of my feet pulsed in rhythm with my heart. Despite the chill seeping through my jeans, I realized if I didn’t get moving soon, I wasn’t going to want to get back up.
I trudged toward the mall doors, but a blissfully empty side alley between a restaurant and Brooks Brothers beckoned invitingly. When I stepped between the tall buildings, the energy in the air shifted. The blaring music faded with the sounds of screaming children. Ahead, the wind scuttled leaves across the concrete, and beyond the alley’s opening, a towering wall of fenced-in plastic wrapped a parking garage under construction. My pace sped to a jog as an extrinsic urgency invaded my limbs. I scanned the visible chain-link panels, searching for an opening. Maybe to the left.
Half running, I rounded the corner and slammed into Jacob.
“Whoa! Sorry.” I bounced back a step and brushed my hair out of my eyes. Jacob didn’t have more than ten pounds on me, and our collision sent him stumbling into a wall. I recovered my balance, but my thoughts remained off-kilter. Glancing around, I looked for the source of the urgency that had gripped me seconds before, finding nothing.
“Madison?”
“In the flesh. Are you okay?”
“Fine.” Jacob rubbed his hip, which had met the sharp corner of Valentine. “What were you doing?”
“Ah, I saw you. Everything okay? I thought you were done with the mall?”
“Me too. Then Isabel sent me back to investigate a problem.”
“Anything I can help with?” Maybe the urgency hadn’t been a figment of my boredom. I gave the construction site and parking lot beyond another quick scan in Primordium. Inanimate charcoal-colored surfaces, untainted with even a drop of atrum, surrounded us, and my shoulders slumped before Jacob shook his head.
Walking to the back of the restaurant, where ivy crept up a metal lattice, Jacob rested his hand among the thick vines. Lux lucis slid into him, brightening his soul.
“How goes the mall?”
“Endless thrills.” I leaned against the wall next to him, letting the last of my embarrassment heat leak into the chilled bricks. I blinked to normal sight and squinted against the overcast glare.
“That sounds about right.” Jacob shot me a look full of pity. If he attempted to pat my shoulder to console me, he’d lose a hand. “Look, it’s really great you’re taking one for the team this year. It’s crazy. Salamanders. No prajurit. I’ve never seen it this bad for this long.”
“In all your years as an enforcer?”
He straightened, shoulders stiff. I’d hit a nerve.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean anything. How long have you been an enforcer?”
“Two years.”
“So about one year and eleven months longer than me. Seems like you’ve learned a lot in that time.” I might have laid it on a little thick, but I hadn’t meant to hurt his pride.
“Yeah. I’m a sponge.” His posture eased, and he glanced toward the parking lot. “Between you and me, I’m glad Liam’s coordinating everything. He’s the best warden in a hundred miles. Not that Isabel isn’t great. She’s just a little scattered. Liam should have this figured out soon.”
I made a noncommittal noise and pushed away from the wall. This arrangement might be everything Jacob could have asked for, but I wasn’t finding many reasons to praise Liam.
Jacob’s phone chirped, and he checked it. “I gotta go. Isabel’s got me jumping today. Oh, I found a salamander this morning in Granite Bay near Auburn Folsom. Don’t worry. The fire’s out and the salamander is dead. Anyway, see you around.” Jacob tossed me a wave and jogged back toward the parking lot.
“‘Don’t worry. I’m having lots of fun while you’re stuck in hell,’” I mocked in falsetto once I knew he couldn’t hear me. I pulled out Medusa to check in with Mr. Pitt, then slid her back into my purse. I already knew what he’d say. “No lone-wolf actions. Stick to the plan. Waste your time on citos.” I gave Mr. Pitt a squeaky voice. It helped take the edge off my frustration.
I turned toward the mall, but a flap of plastic in the wind pivoted me back around. The sky darkened and a light sprinkle filtered down between the high buildings. A few drops hit my hands, soft and cool, and the heady aroma of wet dirt and ozone swirled through the corridor. I took a deep breath and listened to the soft rustle of raindrops twitching the leaves of nearby bushes.
I had this tiny segment of the mall to myself now that Jacob had disappeared. Trailing my fingers along the cold chain-link fence surrounding the parking garage construction site, I collected drops from the twisted metal on the tip of my pointer finger. Water ran down my finger to pool in my palm. I crouched in front of a gap in the fence and tilted my hand—
Plastic snapped in the wind, a sound like a gunshot, and I jolted. The water splashed onto my toes. I jerked to my feet and shook my foot before the water soaked through the porous top of my sneaker to my sock. Wet strands of hair clung to my face. I peeled them free and shook out my hair, surprised to find the top layer soaked. Rain still fell in a soft sprinkle.
How long had I been crouched beside this fence?
I glanced around. Cars crept along the road wrapping around the parking lot, but none turned into this dead end. No servers had come outside for a smoke break. I was as alone as I felt.
I crouched and squeezed through the fence, pulling my purse and Valentine through with me. When I stood, I stilled, staring down at my feet in wonder. Hadn’t I been thinking I needed to get back inside? I patted my
wet hair with hands bright red from the cold. Rain soaked through my thin sweater, and the thinner long-sleeve under it lay damp against my skin. Water beaded on Val’s cover, and I hugged him tight to my hip.
Shivering, I turned back to the fence, then completed a slow three-sixty and wove between puddles on tiptoes across the muddy construction ground. Something called to me. My collision with Jacob had jarred it, making me doubt myself, but the internal pressure was more than a desire to escape mall crowds and blaring festive music.
After one final check to make sure I was unobserved, I slipped through a rip in the plastic encasing the five-story skeleton. My dormant good judgment made a sluggish attempt at caution, reminding me construction sites could be dangerous. The workers wore hard hats and heavy boots for a reason.
Madison Fox’s crispy body was found still attached to an exposed electrical wire. She was identified only by her blackened teeth, my morbid imagination supplied. “Trespassing is a crime,” police officials said. “Justice was served.”
Temporary lights on the beams of the first floor supplemented the natural light muted by plastic and the overcast sky. Gray concrete posts and girders created a uniform grid for each floor above me and sectioned off the pewter sky, but no wiring hung ready to electrocute me. I eased a few steps from the thick plastic wall, in case its grubby opacity didn’t conceal me.
Beyond the plastic, the outline of a Porta-Potty, small equipment, and a mobile trailer crowded within the fence’s confines. I waited for a foreman to rush through a slit in the plastic and kick me out. After a dozen breaths, I turned back to the garage.
Despite the wide-open top, the majority of the gravel-strewn ground inside was dry. A dark shadow near the center of the structure called to me. It looked like a hole, but that made no sense. A crater was the last thing a parking garage needed.
Stones skittered and crunched beneath my feet, the sounds echoing in the vast space. Tiptoeing, I edged closer to the hole.
Easily three car lengths across and nearly deep enough to hide my Civic, the uneven depression looked like it’d been dug by a giant dog. I walked around the lip of the hole, rubbing my forearms, where the hairs on my arm attempted to stand. Glancing around for filler dirt, I blinked to Primordium.
The pit seethed with raw atrum and lux lucis, the two energies rolling like a nest of giant centipedes. Flares of lux lucis bubbled to the surface, popping soundlessly, while lightning-like atrum squiggled sideways across the pit, there one moment, gone the next.
I stumbled forward, tripping over nothing but my sudden vertigo. The pit loomed, massive spikes of energy filling my sight. Gravel bit into my palms. I clawed the dirt, holding on as the world tilted toward the crater.
This was impossible. Lux lucis and atrum didn’t move. Outside a body, both energies lay dormant. They couldn’t flare or twist or spike or twirl. They definitely couldn’t coexist. Yet an inky black bubble swelled in the center of the churning inconceivable mass, fountaining back into a lake of lux lucis.
I scuttled backward, hugging a concrete beam to regain my feet. Valentine jabbed into my thigh, and the pinch broke through my trance.
Gulping in air, I kept my gaze locked on my shoes. The internal pressure I’d heedlessly obeyed intensified, tugging me toward the pit.
I turned and ran.
9
Trouble Has Me on Speed Dial
Holding Valentine and my purse close to my chest, I sprinted across the dirt floor of the garage. Mr. Pitt’s ban on lone-wolf actions be damned, he needed to know about this—whatever this was. I stumbled to a halt at the plastic and clawed through my purse. Yanking out Medusa, I pounded the screen until the Primordium camera app opened; then I snapped a series of shots over my shoulder without turning. Still holding the phone in my hand, I burst through the plastic and hopped frantically across the muddy, puddle-strewn outer grounds. I had enough presence of mind to look around for witnesses, but had there been any, it wouldn’t have mattered. I couldn’t stay in the garage. Squeezing back through the fence, I sprinted to the courtyard.
Rain pelted in earnest, and I slowed to merge with the tide of shoppers scurrying to the doors, then skittered past a crowded cluster of kiosks. I didn’t stop until I reached a gigantic pillar supporting the second-floor carousel near the center of the mall. I pressed my back to the smooth surface so I wouldn’t be trampled and closed my eyes, willing my heart rate to slow.
“Jingle Bells” bounced through the speakers, all but drowned out by the babble of voices. Roasted coffee and expensive perfume hung in the air. Water dripped from the ends of my hair to my sweater, and I shivered, the heated air emphasizing the chill of my skin.
No sinister urge pulled me back to the garage. I opened my eyes and checked my soul. Seeing its creamy white lines deflated the tension in my stomach. I slid Valentine from his strap and shook beads of water from his well-oiled cover. After wiping my wet hands against wet jeans, I opened him.
“What was that?” I asked, too rattled to care if passersby saw me talking to myself.
Were you trying to get me KILLED? The words covered the entire page.
“Don’t be dramatic.” Only one of us could have hysterics at a time, and I had it covered.
More sunlight. More adventure. Valentine’s writing bumped jagged across the page, larger than normal. My life, all there to read, and I . . . bored.
“What are you talking about? You’re not making sense.”
Where were the silk bookmarks? The perfume? I haven’t felt an ocean breeze in a century. I’ve never seen a sunrise over Machapuchare, never heard a three-wattled billbird . . . The text grew increasingly smaller until I couldn’t make out the squiggled words near the bottom of the page.
I gave Valentine a shake. “Snap out of it. I need info.”
Letters sloshed to the side of the page, piled up, and slid down to the bottom in a heap before disappearing. The next text was printed in neat block writing that would have done an architect proud. Object unknown.
“Valentine, don’t be like that. Don’t you have something in your pages for me?” I thumbed through his bulk, seeing only white.
My experience is not worthy of comment.
My fingers spasmed. If his jacket were a neck, he’d have been gasping for air. By the laws of Primordium, lux lucis and atrum canceled each other out. That’s how I killed evil creatures: I smothered them with lux lucis until it overpowered their atrum and extinguished them. Evil creatures performed the process in reverse; they used atrum to annihilate lux lucis. The two dichotomous elements could not coexist, let alone writhe together in a pocket of soil.
“A giant crater of lux lucis and atrum, and all you’ve got is snark?”
Caution. Do not approach objects you know nothing about.
“It’s not like I had a choice. It pulled me to it.”
Caution. Don’t be suckered by feelings not your own.
“So you’re saying you know nothing. Mr. Pitt bought you for this very reason, and you’re playing dumb. Come on, give me something.”
The words disappeared and lines traced up the page, a picture sketched by an invisible pencil. Valentine took his time drawing a hand, the thumb and three fingers curled toward the palm, the middle finger extended—
“Hey!”
I slammed the handbook shut as Valentine started to shade the middle finger.
“You’re as charming as you are helpful.” I shoved the handbook back into his strap, feeling vengeful enough to regret my purse was too small to stuff him inside.
I scrolled through the pictures I’d taken. All but one was useless, pointed more at the sky than the anomaly. I e-mailed the good shot to Mr. Pitt, then called him.
“Mr. Pitt, I’ve found something.”
“Unless it’s citos, I don’t care.”
“Check your e-mail. This is bigger than citos.”
“Really.” His tone was dry as sandpaper. “What, pray tell.”
“We don’t exactly know.”<
br />
“We? Is Jacob there?”
“No. ‘We’ is me and Valentine.”
“Who?” Mr. Pitt bit off the word.
“Valentine. The enforcer handbook.”
“You named a handbook?”
I glared at my unhelpful backup. “He named himself.” There was a long silence on the other end. “Are you looking at the picture I sent?”
“Yes.”
“The lux lucis and atrum were doing some sort of stellar implosion thing.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Well? What is it?”
“Did Jacob show it to you?”
“No. I saw him near the garage—that’s where this thing is. Maybe he doesn’t—”
“The garage? The unfinished one outside the mall?”
Uh-oh. “Yep, but—”
“Why were you out there?”
“It sort of compelled me.” Silence. I pulled the phone from my ear to see if we still had a connection.
“Compelled.”
I squirmed. “Yeah.”
“And you went along with it.” Not a question.
Perhaps you don’t know what compelled means. I managed to keep the thought to myself, but I could feel Valentine’s “I told you so” through his spine.
“Snickerdoodle dandy!” Mr. Pitt bellowed. “I told you to stick to the plan. For this, they could take you— No inspector on the planet would believe me if— Cookie crumble!”
“So you know what it is?” I asked, interrupting his rant.
“I’m not gumdrop green; of course I know! But the situation is delicate, and your ignorance is our paltry defense. To maintain it, you need to stay away from the garage. Is that clear? Your job—your only job—is to kill citos.”
“But—” He couldn’t really be prioritizing citos over a crazy ball of impossible energy lurking a few feet outside, could he? “What about the danger? That was a lot of atrum. If Jacob doesn’t know, I should—”
“Keep out of it.”
“But he didn’t mention it. He might not—”
A Fistful of Fire: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Madison Fox, Illuminant Enforcer Book 2) Page 12
