Waylaid

by Kim Harrison

  “Not that,” the woman rasped, then rolled, rising up with Peri still on her. “What. Did. You. Do to me!” she exclaimed, slamming Peri into the wall with her last words.

  Stunned, Peri let go, gasping for breath as she fell to the floor. I can’t let her get the accelerator, Peri thought. Knowing she was down, she reached her mind out, finding a still-point of motion five seconds in the past. Her mind would buffer itself by forgetting everything she’d changed the moment she caught up with the present, so she would change very little, and with a curious side step of mental gymnastics, she pushed a two-block area five seconds into the past.

  The woman stiffened as if feeling it, and Peri held her breath, watching the flames from her candles flash blue. The tint jumped from molecule to molecule, the room hazed blue . . . then cleared . . .

  And suddenly Peri wasn’t gasping for breath on the floor, but still on the woman’s back.

  “Let’s try this again,” Peri muttered, her memory of the next five seconds very clear—for the moment—and she dropped off before the woman could smash her into the wall. Teeth clenched, Peri grabbed the woman’s long red hair and spun her, flinging her into the wall.

  The woman hit with a thud and fell. “Ow . . .”

  Panting, Peri dove for the accelerator, ripping free the Glock she’d taped to the underside of the couch.

  God help me, Peri thought as time caught up and everything flashed an amazingly clear shade of red and settled.

  Time again ran smooth. Peri stood firm as a familiar disconnection raced through her. The last thing she remembered was clinging to the woman’s back. Obviously she had drafted to rub out a fatal mistake, and in the doing had forgotten how she’d broken her choke hold, or how the accelerator had gotten into her pocket, or why the woman was sitting on the floor, shaking her head and trying to focus. Peri could guess, though, seeing as she was standing beside the couch with the Glock she’d taped under it in her hand.

  “Move, and I’ll blow your head clean off,” Peri said, but the woman was staring at her from the floor, her green eyes wide and wondering.

  “Whoa,” she said, narrow hand raised in submission. “What just happened? Kind of like déjà vu, only I remember it different, not the same.”

  Peri hesitated, the Glock’s aim never faltering. “You felt that?” she said, shocked. Most people couldn’t sense it when she drafted. Jack could, which was why he was her partner. “Who are you? Is this some kind of Opti test? Bill? Are you listening? This isn’t funny.”

  The woman snorted, cautiously sitting up and untangling herself. “No, it isn’t. Al put you up to this?” she asked as she wound her hair into a makeshift, messy bun and sat there, tired and blowing a missed strand out of her eyes. “Who in hell are you, small, dark, and deadly?”

  “Peri Reed. I work for Opti.” She risked a glance at Jack. “Who sent you?”

  The woman gingerly felt her back. “You summoned me, remember?” and then she went pale. “Wait, wait, wait. Something is wrong.” Her gaze went to Jack as the man laughed in his drunken stupor, facedown on the floor, then back to Peri. “I can’t feel the ley lines. What did you do to me?”

  The woman scrambled to her feet, and Peri backed up, Glock aimed at the intruder’s chest. “I said, don’t move.”

  But the woman looked down at her black clubbing dress, anger shifting to disgust. “Crap on toast. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get blood out of sequins?”

  “I’ll give you the name of my cleaner,” Peri said, moving to stay between her and the door when the woman went to look out the windows, hands on her hips as she took in the skyline. Here Peri was with a weapon ready to blow the woman away, and she was crabbing about her dress? Damn. I think I’m starting to like her.

  “Where are we?” the tall woman asked, almost ignoring Peri.

  Peri’s jaw clenched as anger and sympathy warred in her, the feeling of having found a kindred spirit winning. How often had she stood at a window, asking the very same thing? Peri lowered the Glock. “You’re not here for the accelerator?”

  She turned. “How many times do I have to say it? You summoned me. Where am I?”

  Peri put the safety back on. “Detroit.”

  Fear crossed the woman’s features. It was the first moment of doubt Peri had seen in her, and it set Peri back. “No,” the woman said, touching the glass as she looked out. “Detroit? It’s so . . . sparkly. Alive.” She turned, her alarm almost hidden. “This is reality, right? Not the ever-after?”

  Peri eyed her from under a lowered brow. “I’ve never heard Detroit called that before.” She checked her safety and tucked the Glock in the back of her waistband. She hated putting it there as she couldn’t reach it if she was pinned to the floor, but she wasn’t going to entirely trust this yet. Something weird was going on, and Peri shifted to get between her and Jack. “Who are you? Who do you work for?”

  “Rachel. Rachel Morgan,” the woman said as she turned back to the window. “And I don’t work for anyone but myself. That can’t be Detroit. It was destroyed in the Turn.”

  She was an independent. Not good. Hired by whoever gave her the most money. “The what?” Peri went to nudge Jack awake, but he only groaned and pushed her away, his face flat against the floor. “You mean the exodus?” she said. “Not everyone left. Those who stayed fixed her.”

  “You’re from here?” Rachel spun, her eyes wide as she ran her gaze up and down Peri as if impressed. “Oh, my God,” she said suddenly, long hand to her mouth. “That shifting-of-time thing wasn’t a spell. You’re human.”

  Peri’s brow furrowed. “What else would I be?”

  Rachel suddenly looked vulnerable as she clasped her arms across her middle. “Ah . . .”

  Peri shoved Jack again. “Jack, wake up. It’s not funny anymore.”

  Rachel sat down on the front edge of a chair. She looked ill in the candlelight. “Son of a bastard,” she whispered. “You summoned me. And you don’t have a clue how you did it. Crap on toast. I can’t kill you now.”

  Peri toed Jack’s ribs. “Jack. Wake up!”

  Rachel’s head rose. “Was it him? Did he summon me?” she said, and Peri put up a warning hand when the woman stood, eyes alight.

  “Back off,” Peri warned her, and Rachel hesitated, recognizing Peri’s commitment.

  “Sorry,” Rachel said. “I didn’t think I hit him that hard.”

  “He’s kind of a wimp,” Peri said, surprised at the flash of a smile from Rachel. “But I don’t think it was you. The wine he brought home packs a wallop.” The accelerator was in her pocket, but she no longer thought the woman was after it. Rachel had felt her draft, and she’d gotten into her apartment somehow; maybe this was an Opti test to see how she and Jack were at finding and bringing in new drafters. Damn it, Bill. We’re nowhere near ready to retire.

  Rachel reached for the wine. “This is Trent’s label,” she said, lips parted. “His name isn’t on it, but it’s his label.” Her head rose. “This is what you were drinking? Where did you get it?”

  “Cincinnati.” Peri didn’t mean to be unhelpful, but that was all she knew.

  The woman raised one eyebrow. “Curious,” Rachel said, seeming to find her confidence the more convoluted and mixed-up Peri became. “Okay . . . It’s not Halloween, is it?”

  Peri shook her head. “No. It’s the middle of June.”

  “Equinox.” Rachel set the bottle down. “Let me guess. You were messing around, summoning a demon. Salt, candles, words of power?”

  Peri’s eyes narrowed. “Okay. Fun’s over, Jack,” she said loudly. “Wake up. Time to pay your actor and go to bed.” She stood over him, rolling him over with her foot. There was a red bump on his forehead. Suddenly concerned, she dropped to wedge his eyes open to see if they dilated right.

  “I gotta get out of here,” the woman said.

 
“The door is right there.” Peri reached for her phone. This had gone on long enough, but Opti could pick her up off the street. Jack was fine. He was drunker than a skunk and no help at all, but fine.

  The woman strode to the door, hesitating as she opened it and looked out into a bland hallway. “Can I borrow bus fare?” Peri looked up in amazement, and Rachel shrugged. “This dress has absolutely no room for even a card. Besides, Trent won’t let me pay for anything.”

  Peri sat back on her heels. “You’re kidding,” she said flatly.

  Irritation flashed over Rachel, vanishing when Carnac, drawn by the sound of the door opening, came out from the back room. “Rex!” Rachel cried, scooping the orange tabby up. “Did you get caught up in the circle? Poor kitty.”

  Peri slowly rose from Jack, muscles tensing. “Ah, that’s my cat.”

  “It isn’t,” Rachel said, heading for the open door. “’Bye. Thanks for nothing.”

  Lunging after her, Peri grabbed her arm and swung her around. “That’s my cat!” she said, and Carnac leapt from Rachel, skittering out the door and into the hall.

  “Look what you did!” Rachel exclaimed, furious. “Jenks is going to kill me. That’s his cat! How am I supposed to find Rex now?”

  “I thought you said he was yours,” Peri barked back.

  Rachel stood in the hall, frustrated. “It’s complicated,” she said, clearly wanting to leave but not without her cat. “I’m in so much trouble,” she said suddenly as she leaned against the hallway wall, head in her hand. “I have no idea when or maybe where I am, and I can’t do anything. Not even light a stupid candle.”

  This woman is nuts, Peri thought, edging back toward her apartment. “Well, maybe there’s a magical door somewhere,” she said, thinking she was going to have to call Bill. He’d want to pick this woman up. See if she was an anchor. Rachel had not only noticed the draft but had realized there were two timelines. Even a crazy anchor had some worth. “Just go walk through it, okay?”

  Rachel’s head came up, the depth of her worry giving Peri pause. “I’m telling you, I can’t! It’s like there’re no ley lines.” She stiffened, eyes lighting up. “Hey! Ley lines. I didn’t study Detroit’s lines, because no one lives there. Map. You got a map?”

  Anything to get you out of my hallway, Peri thought, reaching for her phone. “Where do you want to go?”

  “To see a map,” Rachel said, and Peri held up a hand to stop her when she came closer.

  “Of Detroit, right?” Peri said, opening the app. “Here.”

  She handed her phone to Rachel, and the woman took it, her brief confusion vanishing. “Oh, cool,” she said, turning the clear glass phone over to see the picture of Carnac on one side, then flipping it back to marvel that she could see the map when looking the other way. “Ivy would love this. Is it made of glass? How does it work? It’s a spell, right? I can’t feel anything. Maybe it’s me. Did you hit me with one of those joke spells to cut off my access to the lines?”

  Absolutely bonkers, Peri thought, worried the woman was going to try to take her phone. “Anything look familiar?” she asked instead of answering, and Rachel shifted the map around with one thin finger, delighting in it.

  “No. But ley lines exert an unseen force. People usually put their important buildings over them. Museums and the like. The demons get a kick out of it. This looks like a good bet,” she said, extending the phone so Peri could look. “See how the roads kind of lead to it?”

  Demons? Peri rocked forward onto her toes, then away. “You’re serious?” she said. “All roads lead to it because it’s a mall.”

  “Is that what that says?” Rachel mused, then started when Peri used two fingers to zoom in on it. “My God. That is so cool,” she blurted, then added, “Yeah, demons like shopping as much as anyone else. Al says that’s where bell-bottoms and leisure suits came from. Some kind of joke that went wrong.”

  Peri itched to take her phone back, but she didn’t like crazy. Skilled, powerful, dangerously wealthy she could handle. Crazy was different.

  “There’s got to be a ley line there,” Rachel said, seemingly buoyed up. “If I can get into it, I can get out of here. Without Mr. Man there on the floor.” She bit her lip, then smiled at Peri. “Thanks for the map.”

  “Hey!” Peri cried when Rachel spun to the elevators, sequins glinting. “That’s my phone.”

  “Thank you!” Rachel sang out, and Peri’s jaw clenched.

  You can beat up my partner. You can try to steal my cat. But don’t you dare take my phone. Peri made a hop-skip and jogged after her. “You’re not leaving with my phone,” Peri said, jerking Rachel to a stop as she hit the elevator button. Backing up, Peri’s hands fisted. “Don’t test me. I’m small, but that doesn’t mean you can walk all over me.”

  Rachel hesitated when the doors slid open, and Peri wondered if she should pull her Glock just to hammer her point home. “Don’t I know it,” Rachel said tiredly, still in the hall as the door slid shut again. “So what do you propose, Peri Reed from Opti?”

  Peri thought for a second, then unfisted her hands. “You mind if we go back and get my jacket? And maybe my boots?” She hesitated, a smile quirking her lips. “Put Jack on the couch. He has a coat that might fit you, too. Unless you want to go traipsing around Detroit in that.” She could stash the accelerator in their apartment safe, too. She wasn’t going to risk taking it into the streets with this woman.

  Rachel’s expression eased, going from a calculating determination to a friendly acceptance. “That would be nice. Thanks.” She hesitated, then added, “I sure could use the help.”

  You got that right, Peri thought, deciding that if things went wrong, she could text Bill to come pick up the wack job. The Packard Mall would be as good a place as any, and better than most.

  2

  Peri’s grip on the wheel of her Mantis tightened as they drove sedately through Detroit’s night-slow streets to Packard Mall. Rachel wouldn’t stop fiddling with the vents, and it was getting on Peri’s nerves, the woman angling them just perfect to shift the stray strands of her red hair. It was far too long for a proper agent, and Peri was beginning to wonder who she had in her car. Rachel was an odd mix of confidence and curiosity. This is very bad for my asthma, Peri thought dryly, the inside joke having nothing to do with her health, and everything to do with her unease.

  “What did you mean when you said I’m human?” Peri asked, trying to get Rachel to stop touching her car.

  Rachel stiffened and sat back. “Nothing,” she said, flashing her an empty smile. “Forget it. This is a nice car. It’s electric? When did they start making them?”

  “Since forever.” Peri slipped off the interstate, and Rachel watched the passing mix of green space and old Detroit, carefully preserved and protected, glittering in the dark. “But they only became popular the last decade or so when the CO2 levels became an issue. When your choice is getting an electric car or losing half your population to a site-specific virus engineered by the United Nations, you take the car.”

  Again Peri’s grip tightened. She was glad she hadn’t been part of the team that had delivered the virus, decimating Asia’s population when an entire continent had thumbed their noses at the UN’s guidelines and therefore threatened the entire world. Bill’s claim that it was perfectly acceptable to reduce a population at random when they had randomly increased it had never sat well with her.

  “We don’t have electric,” Rachel said, oblivious to Peri’s mood. “But I don’t think we have the population you do, either.” Again she smiled. “Plague by way of GMO tomatoes. We call it the Turn, because everything turned around. Some things good, some things bad. My parents were in high school when it happened. I’m so-o-o-o glad I missed it. But there are days I think it had to have been easier hiding you’re dangerously different than trying to live with people who know you are.”

  Peri n
odded noncommittally and focused on the road. The woman knew of Detroit, cars, cell phones, and seat belts—even how to work the elevator. She wasn’t shocked at traffic, and had been only mildly impressed at the neon down at Lloyd Square. Yet she was convinced there was a magical portal in the mall that might transport her home to Cincinnati. Something was very wrong with her. One too many drafts . . . Shit, is this what waits for me at retirement?

  “I like your Detroit,” Rachel said, leaning to look at the droneway, which was busy and lit up as all traffic was forced over the river at sundown. “It’s very green. But dead.”

  “Dead?” Peri slowed at a red light, hoping it changed before they had to stop.

  Rachel gestured at the green space they were passing, held down by one of Detroit’s restored and rebuilt older mansions, now surrounded by three other empty lots. “You’ve got nothing but squirrels and sparrows in your trees.”

  The light changed, and Peri hit the accelerator. Packard Mall was just ahead. “What do you want? Condors?”

  Rachel said nothing as they entered the complex, driving under the old Packard sign. “Is that it?” Rachel said, peering at the three-story building with its adjacent parking structure. The central tower was lit up and glowing, a beacon in the dark to draw the idle and bored. “Busy. You have lots of nightwalkers.”

  Peri had never heard late shoppers called that. Taking a chance, she turned into the VIP parking lot right in front, pleased when there was a spot open. “You should see it during the day,” Peri said as she pulled into it. “No, wait,” she said when Rachel reached for the door.

  Leaning, she watched the security drone hum overhead. It would register her car and charge her account, and while she usually hated leaving a record of where she was, giving Bill something to trace her by if there was trouble seemed prudent tonight. But even given that, there was no need for the drone to document Rachel getting out of her car. The video of her would be harder to get rid of than the woman herself in case there was . . . an issue later.