by VK Fox
Yes, I think the whole class would like to know.
“You’re implying…”
Liv cut him off, “Oh, I’m being rhetorical of course. Good for you, branching out.”
She doesn’t care. Screw around all you want; you know she is. Good for both of you.
“I haven’t done anything.”
“Dahl, it doesn’t matter. Open relationship, remember? We don’t have to discuss it.” Olive paused, creasing her forehead, “Although I am kind of curious when I’m going to hear the threesome pitch.”
“That’s you. I’m not involved with him.”
But you’d like to be.
“That’s you!” Volume again. Stay calm. Don’t freak out.
It’s the way he holds himself, isn’t it? A sheep in wolf’s clothing; always pretending not to be terrified. You could take him apart. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about pushing him up against a wall and seeing what happens when he has nowhere to go.
“Hey,” Liv’s voice was unexpectedly tender. Dahl was breathing hard as she stepped closer, “Don’t sweat it. I was teasing.” She put her arms around him sweetly. “I don’t know what your deal is with him, but we don’t have to talk about it anymore. I just thought maybe you’d want to update me or something. No worries.” Dahl closed his eyes.
Tell her what you told your therapist.
Liv’s voice clipped the end of Mordred’s taunt, “How are your new meds working?”
So that’s why she’s being nice.
“I hate them.” Being drugged to the gills was status quo, but the increase in lithium was particularly hard to bear. He didn’t get to have feelings anymore. Except anger. Everything else was so far underwater he couldn’t even recognize the blurry shapes. Years ago, a version of himself had breathlessly stood in the wind of an oncoming summer storm, smelling the rain and spreading his arms to embrace it. Who was that person? Anger, lust, and nervousness remained. Nervousness was new, and Everest’s fault. His anxiety must be catching.
Every morning someone with a substance certificate watched him swallow pills and signed off, so there was no way he could flush them. They were even required to check under his tongue, and thus far the SubCert bearing staff took their jobs seriously. Dahl would have done the same: no one wanted their certification pulled. He shifted slightly in the cold wind; did Everest have a certificate? He would know Dahl didn’t need to take a prescription rainbow.
“Well, they’re good for you.”
Dahl clenched his jaw.
“You’re much more even.”
She means boring.
Liv abruptly ended the hug: her PDA best at eighteen seconds. She picked up the red and absently tagged Dahl’s boot. “Are you ready to talk about what happened?”
“No.” The answer was out before Dahl could formulate anything better: clipped and rude. Liv was adding lettering to the platform. It would only be visible from aircraft. Dahl gazed up at cicada girl. Seventeen years of touching only dirt, smelling compost and clay, eating whatever the fuck cicada larvae ate. When she dug out and learned the world was full of downy feathers and thunderstorms and bacon, could she have explained those things to her younger self? What if it went the other way—starting on the surface and then being put in the ground?
“You need to talk to me.”
Silence.
“Stop it.” Authority bolstered her tone. “Did you think you could fucking try to kill yourself and we’d both forget it?”
Dahl shoved his hands in his pockets.
Why don’t you explain? Oh… because you can’t.
“Is it me?”
“It’s not about you.”
“Well, it’s plenty damn selfish, I’ll tell you that. How can you do this to me? To Ian? Do you even care how worried we are about you?”
“We’ve done this, Liv!” He could always outshout her, if nothing else, “There’s no fucking epiphany here! What do you want me to say?”
“Anything! Any reason or explanation or even an oath it won’t happen again!”
Silence.
I hope she cries this time.
“Was it because of me?” Liv’s eyes were locked on the profanity outlined in red, “If I’d agreed to be exclusive would it have made a difference?”
“No.” Dahl scrambled for words he could force past his lips, “I wish we could have been on the same page when I was in the field, but what happened was not your fault.” He took a step forward to put a hand on her shoulder, but she jerked away.
“You’re kind of leaning into the whole open relationship thing now, aren’t you?” Her voice was a sneer.
“Are we back on this again?”
“I’m having second thoughts about the arrangement with Everest.”
What was the current anger management plan when his control snapped? Count to ten? Breathe deeply? Distract himself with cicada girl’s huge tits? Did he care?
“What the fuck ever gave you the idea your first thoughts were worth discussing, let alone your second ones?”
Liv threw the spray can at him and took off into the night.
Lovely. I couldn’t have said it better myself.
Chapter Nine
The golemancer Blue Cohen was a pleasant surprise. Hanging out with a twentysomething girl who’d grown up in Nevada with a doting mom and grandma restored a level of normalcy to the day, even if she did make magical statues for a living. Also, she was crazy rich and already owned her own house: a stunning mountainside stone structure with things like an in-ground pool, brightly upholstered antique furniture, and velvet drapes. Statues, feathers, and crystal cabinets crowded every room. A year ago, Jane could have imagined the social diversity driving a wedge between them, but now she was so happy to have someone to chat with who knew things like monogamy were normal.
Sister Mary’s flight was delayed, so when Jane arrived she was given a bathing suit, a mocktail, and a towel. The two of them were sitting with their feet in the hot tub and the sun on their backs. Blue’s polka-dot bikini showed off her baby bump, and her crimson lipstick contrasted glamorously with porcelain skin and Betty Paige cut black hair.
“When are you due?” Jane tried not to eye Blue’s belly overly long. It must be her first—the brisk walk through the house had revealed an unusual mix of antiques and pin-up art, but no toys or clothes or the gear needed for an older child.
Blue gave a shy smile and absently rubbed her abdomen, “September. I’m not looking forward to spending all summer bloated and heavy.” Her voice was several octaves higher than it seemed like it should be, like she’d taken a sip of helium.
“September will be nice, though. Is your, um,” Jane quickly glanced over Blue’s bare fingers, “boyfriend excited?”
“I’m still figuring out if I should loop him in. We’re not dating, just kind of shared a fling. My mom and Nonna are over the moon, though.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, they tried to hide it under a bunch of speeches about the rigors of single motherhood, but they kept trailing off into a baby voice and talking about little toesies. They’ve been decorating the nursery and cornering the market on blue clothing ever since we found out it’s a boy. Nonna’s coming to stay for a bit next month. She’s counting the days.”
Jane grinned, “Awesome. My mom would flip her shit.” her voice faltered. If what Sister Mary said was accurate, she would never have this conversation with her mom. Linked people couldn’t have kids. Jane buttoned the twinge in her heart. “Does being pregnant make your work more challenging? I don’t know what goes into golemancy.”
Blue nodded, “Some parts. I like to work in resin instead of more traditional mediums like clay, so there’s a toxicity factor. I have to use a respirator and be extra careful. Some of the pieces are pretty heavy, and I’m trying to not lift too much. Honestly, things would be a whole lot easier with an assistant, but it’s hard to find anyone who fits the bill. I don’t suppose you have a friend in the know looking for employmen
t with a strong creative eye for assembling bodies suitable for life?”
Jane chewed her lip, “No one springs to mind.”
“Yeah, that’s why it’s normally a family endeavor. My mom never had the knack for it though, and I’m an only child. My great grandparents immigrated from Romania when they were teenagers, and our family hasn’t exactly flourished. They had three children, but only Nonna made it to adulthood. I can’t imagine living at that time: their house had a dirt floor, and they used to bring the cow inside during the winter for warmth. My mom’s an only child too, so not a lot of cousins or whatever. It makes finding help harder.”
“None of the Sisters fit the bill?”
“Well…” Blue trailed off and wiggled her toes in the water, “I do work with Sister I.E.D. quite a bit.”
“Sister who?”
“Sister Isadora Elizabeth Domonique - what a mouthful! So she’s sister I.E.D. to me. She’s one of the nuns on Sister Mary’s team.”
Jane conjured an image of the plump, chatty little nun from her hospital room last fall, “Oh, yeah. I’ve met her. She’s good with this kind of stuff?”
“She’s got the right sort of imagination, but the sisters don’t really do golemancy, so no good beyond creative input for jobs she’s involved with and lifting stuff if she already happens to be here.”
“I’ll keep an ear open.”
“Do.” Blue sipped at her Bloody Mary Mix and reclined to get another angle of sun. After a few minutes of warm silence, she squinted a liquid-lined eye open, “So you’re a linked contractor, right? It must be crazy to get tossed in the middle of all this. How long since the scales fell from your eyes?”
“Not nearly long enough to feel like I know what I’m doing.” Jane mumbled into her drink, “The guys I’ve been working with are Sana Baba agents, and it’s a foreign world. Every time I think I’m getting a grip, shit goes a little farther sideways.”
Blue smiled sweetly, “Let me know if I can help. I’m not as familiar with the culture surrounding Sana Baba as some, but I know a thing or two.”
Jane grinned, “Yeah, I will.”
Blue stood and toweled off her legs, “I bet you’re dying to see the golems. Do you want to come in and meet them?”
Jane followed her lead, enjoying the pleasant flutter in her stomach. When miraculous healing became a part of life, things like golems had never even occurred as a possibility. Now here she was, ready to shake their hand, or whatever. Hopefully Blue would instruct her on etiquette. Blue grabbed a slip dress and brushed her fingers over an ornate scroll case mounted by the door as she stepped into the cool house with Jane right behind her.
The first golem was so tall and graceful she looked like a dancer. Her body was made of terracotta, aged and chipping with a greenish sheen. One arm was inlaid with ivory or bone in winding floral patterns and polished to a dull reddish shine. The other limb was cast in resin with bones suspended in the clear arm, hand, and finger digits. Her face was smooth, a gauzy veil tied across it and braided into her long hair. Dozens of shades of brown and grey were sewn expertly into her pate like a wig made from a hundred donors. When Blue and Jane entered the workshop, the golem dropped a small bow that Jane couldn’t help fawning over.
“Wow, Blue! She’s beautiful!” Jane checked herself before she started caressing the living statue.
“Thanks. She’s my project. It’s okay, you can touch her. Mercy is our family’s ossuary golem.”
Jane lightly traced her fingers along the floral arm. “What’s an ossuary golem?”
“She’s a vessel for the dead. Hundreds of members of our family have donated bones or hair or whatnot to be interred in her form.” Jane tried to cover her shiver as she diverted her fingers away from the exposed bone. Blue continued, “Each inclusion gives her more life force and personality. Some of the older families have incredibly powerful ossuary golems. Mercy only dates back two centuries, though, and she’s always been on the meek side. She’s fallen into disrepair since the family immigrated. I’m working on updates and restoration. She really needs a whole new trunk. I already replaced her arm; the last one was cracked, and she couldn’t use her left hand anymore.”
Jane wandered around the six-foot living statue. The stillness made it hard to believe she’d moved a moment before. “So, you repair golems? Can you build them too?”
“Yeah. Most of the ones I make are clay. It’s easy to work with, and it takes the words of life without much resistance. Ossuary golems are a much longer project, as you can imagine. I don’t know if I’d be up to putting together a body capable of holding that much energy. Most golems don’t contain remains, but flesh golems do as well. I’ll repair those, but I won’t build them. Going from human parts to working golem is a God-awful process. I’ve also played with metal and stone, even golems made of fabric and stuffing like dolls. Of course, the ones for your job are special order, not normally on the menu.” Blue gave a knowing wink.
“We’re not working with Mercy?”
“Ohhhhh… No. She doesn’t leave the house. Sister Mary had a few built specifically for your job.” Blue breezed past Mercy and across the workshop. The large space was Joann’s Craft Morgue. Stainless steel autopsy tables under fluorescent lights were piled high with fabric, dried flowers, hunks of shrink-wrapped clay, pigments, and paint. The room was lined with shelves housing a Jenga puzzle of boxed supplies. The aroma of art materials and cinnamon air freshener permeated everything. A skittering noise issued from the far corner, and Blue stooped to retrieve something off the floor.
“Here you are, you silly little thing! Hold still!” Her singsong voice was practiced and familiar. Mercy swayed gently at the lilting sound. A few seconds later Blue rose, grinned, and thrust a lidless two-quart Tupperware container in Jane’s direction. Crude, uneven flexible plastic legs were attached to either side like an insect. A peeling piece of masking tape was inscribed with foreign symbols in sharpie. Blue beamed. The Tupperware golem scrambled ineffectively before its appendages went limp. Jane’s mouth hung open.
“Go on, you can cuddle him.” Blue prompted, pressing the mini golem against Jane’s chest. “Just don’t mess with the masking tape. If the words of life come off, he’s kind of screwed.”
Jane grasped the plastic sides firmly, being careful to avoid the tape. The Tupperware squirmed with fresh enthusiasm for a few seconds before quieting again. Jane gaped and stammered, “Does he have a name?”
“Nah. I, um,” Blue covered the sides of the Tupperware and whispered, “don’t name the ones that probably won’t make it.”
Jane tried to shut her jaw all the way. What the shit was happening? She scrambled for a foothold on the situation. The little golem kicked her chest. “Does he have a lid?”
“Good catch! He does not. I couldn’t make it work with a lid. I’m not sure if the lid being a fully separate piece caused the issue: detachable parts are disruptive. Or maybe the essence of Tupperware doesn’t allow for lids. He loves aluminum foil, though. I figure you guys can take a roll and use that.”
Jane was nodding along out of reflex, “Sure. Are there others?”
“Well, the incendiary golem makes me nervous. I’mma gonna leave him in the cage for now.”
“Right. Makes sense.” Jane put the Tupperware golem on one of the autopsy tables and watched it skitter drunkenly to the edge, like it was trying to get its sea legs. It overshot the lip and landed upside down on the resin-splattered floor. “So did Sister Mary mention the details of our mission?”
“Heck, yes!” The knobbly plastic limbs flailed in an ineffective attempt to right themselves. “You guys are going to break into Sana Baba’s high-security vault. Badass.”
Chapter Ten
Last December - Five Months Ago
“I wanted to request a team transfer. Judy from S.A. might have sent something over?” Everest wandered around the Human Relations office while a redheaded intern smiled and riffled through a filing shelf for the correct f
orms. Everest had passed his psychological screenings and was starting back at the office on Monday, which meant he couldn’t put this meeting off any longer. It shouldn’t be a big deal—Dahl and Sendak were still on leave—but swapping with Asimov for one of his inactive teams was merely a matter of paperwork. Everest would need to clock a lot of hours to get up to speed with his new agents before they were deployed on their next mission, but transferring Dahl was the smart move. Management shifted some teams around frequently; he’d only acquired Sendak and Dahl a year and a half ago. They’d run two missions for him, and they were an incredible headache to manage, but at the end of the day they got the job done.
Learning the ins and outs of a new team was one part applied psychology, one part logistics, one part abject slavery, but not a wholly unenjoyable process. The level of desired handling varied a lot from person to person, some agents wanting the path smoothed ahead of them so they could focus immediately on their objective and some teams resenting even the minimum required contact during their field time. Everest remembered the shock of his first year of command when Owen London had submitted an official request for every hotel room he left to be photographed and the next room identically organized prior to his arrival. A stark contrast compared with Sendak—“too busy” to check in for days at a time and always traveling with five figures in personal cash.
Brent from Human Relations was pulling paper out of the fax machine while big, fat snowflakes fell outside the window. No accumulation, but it made the air festive. Maybe he would walk by the Christmas lights in the city tonight. Maybe Dahl would want to come.
“Looks like she filled out the form for you.” Brent smiled pleasantly, “Nice when all the personal health departments work together, isn’t it? Super-efficient: not something we peasants get to enjoy. Did you want to register a relationship?”
“What?” Everest pulled his gaze away from the window.
“While you’re in the office, did you want to register your relationship?”
