Public Enemies

by Ann Aguirre

  “Then let’s begin. Kian, I need you to take five steps back. Yes, by the wall is fine.”

  Rochelle opened the compact and set it in the tray, then she lit the candles at cardinal points. I had zero experience in rituals but I could tell this one was legit from energy sizzling against my skin. Every creepy thing in this room perked up, looking our way. She poured water from the waiting pitcher into the trays and then she signaled me.

  “Hands in, up to your wrists. Don’t pull back, no matter what happens. I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

  That’s not ominous at all.

  Nervous, I did as instructed, and the water already felt different, icy cold though it had been sitting at room temperature. The cold worked into my bones, so I felt my hands stiffening, knuckles sharp and achy with it. She whispered a word in a language I didn’t speak, then another, until they blurred together in a soft susurration, whispery rasp of paper over stone, and the water on my hands became a river. Crazy, but I felt the current flooding along the trenchers, sweeping from my end to hers and back again. The candle flames flickered from nonexistent wind while the room just kept getting colder. Soon I could see Rochelle’s breath when she chanted. Though the sun hadn’t changed position, it was darker in here too, a cluster of shadows that belonged to something besides Cameron. It took all my self-control not to scream and run off, but I held on. The ceremony came to crescendo with the darkness in the water swimming like ethereal fish toward the compact. As the black cloud reached it, the thing snapped shut with an audible click.

  Her face sweaty, Rochelle staggered backward. “It’s done. Come meet your familiar.”

  “Did that hurt you?” She did not look good.

  It took a few seconds before she could reply. “A little. After this, I’ll go to the shelter and heal the homeless. Their appreciation will top up the tank enough to get me by.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Like I said, this is the last help I’ll offer. Who knows if it’ll be enough.”

  “It will be,” Kian said firmly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

  I picked a careful path through the forgotten treasures to the other side of the table, where the compact waited. The water was clear now, normal looking. “Is it safe for me to pick up?”

  She offered a strange, half smile. “You’re the only one who can.”

  Kian didn’t like the sound of that, no surprise, so he reached for it, but the water blocked him as if it were glass, not liquid. He tapped along the surface with a deepening frown. “How is that possible?”

  “The object’s bound to her,” she answered.

  Curious, I tried and my fingers slipped right in. I picked up the compact with no problem. It felt heavier in my palm than I expected; that could be imagination since I knew intellectually that it now contained Cameron’s soul. Rochelle nodded at me when I went to open it. Since this was all so new, I had no expectations. Sheer surprise rocked me back a step when I saw that the empty space across from the mirror contained an image, bizarre and three-dimensional, like one of those “magic” 3-D photos or puzzles. I stared at Cameron; he seemed to stare back. He didn’t move or blink yet he gave the impression of awareness.

  So. Flipping. Creepy.

  “Can he see me?” I asked.

  Rochelle nodded. “And hear you. I’ll show you a few simple uses for him before I go. The rest you’ll need to work out on your own. Each spirit has a different specialty and since yours is young, he may not know yet what he can do.”

  At that point, I got a lesson on how to tap my familiar’s power and, right away, I understood her initial warning. The rush of energy was … euphoric, indescribably delicious. My whole body glowed with pleasure; it felt like basking in the sun, making out with Kian, and acing a test. All at the same time. In a few seconds, I was stronger. Faster. Those results could definitely eat away at the desire to work hard. Steeling myself against temptation, I followed Rochelle out of the shop.

  “Is there anything else I should know?”

  “As long as you can see his picture in the compact, it means he’s got some power to offer. If it fades until you can barely make it out, then you need to let him rest.”

  “Okay. I’ll remember.”

  “Take care, Edie. You too, Kian.”

  He waited until she locked the door and moved off down the sidewalk before he reached for me. Reaction was setting in, and it was kind of uncanny that he understood that about me. I could be cool while the crazy stuff was happening, but afterward, I needed a safe space to lose my mind for a few seconds. He rubbed my back as I clutched my talisman, hovering on the brink of tears. Everything was just too damn much but I couldn’t curl up into a ball.

  My dad’s depending on me. I have to step up.

  “Does this mean I’m a witch?” I mumbled.

  “Does it matter? You didn’t trap that asshole. He was already hanging around, Rochelle just taught you how to make him useful.”

  He was trying to make me feel better, but he had no idea how amazing it felt to power up on somebody else’s dime. I didn’t want to turn into a maniac, looking for other artifacts to infuse. It wasn’t like I could do the ritual myself, so that was some comfort, but my reaction to the spirit boost had been strong enough to make me nervous. Depending on how much I had to rely on Cameron to get through this and save my dad, there was no predicting what it might do to me. Rochelle was trusting me with a bomb, basically, and I hoped I didn’t detonate it.

  I let Kian comfort me for a few more minutes, then I stepped back and opened the compact. Cameron stared back at me, unmoving and pale as death. “Help me get my dad back, then I’ll cut you loose. Deal?”

  A bang on the door behind me—I jumped, heart thumping like mad. Then I realized Rochelle had set the terms. One knock for yes, two for no. It wasn’t an elegant means of communication but maybe we could do better down the line. Working out complex systems was kind of my forte, so the chances were good that I could create some kind of ghost-chat infrastructure, given time.

  Damn. I don’t have much of that. We’ll make do.

  “Next question,” I asked. “Does it hurt, being trapped?”

  There was a long silence, then eventually he knocked once, softer. That sounded more like “kind of” or “maybe.” I wished I hadn’t asked because now I felt bad about using him. But I didn’t have a choice if I wanted to rescue my dad. Sorry, Cameron.

  To save my father, I’d do a lot worse.

  BLAMING CTHULHU NEVER HELPS

  Sunday, Kian bought me a new cell phone. The police came to see me too, which was completely horrible. I suspected the officer knew I wasn’t telling the whole truth, which extended the interrogation. But was I supposed to admit that a Cthulhu monster carried my dad off? That would get me shunted off to a psych unit.

  Monday afternoon a big guy was waiting for me when I left Blackbriar. Between the lessons I was taking with Raoul and my spirit mirror, I might be able to take him. I sized him up as he approached. Kian was off with Aaron, talking to some people about who might’ve abducted my dad. Hopefully he’d text me with information soon.

  My whole body tensed as the man in the black suit and impenetrable mirror shades stepped up. “We have a mutual friend.”

  “Who do you work for?” This didn’t seem like the Harbinger’s style but then, he was known as a crazy, unpredictable bastard, and from what I could tell, he reveled in that reputation. He had sent men in suits to round me up before, but this guy wasn’t one of them. How many minions does he have?

  “We’ve met before,” he said, smiling. “And I saw you recently too. Should I be hurt that you don’t remember?”

  I stared. Actually something about his yellow teeth did strike me as familiar. But I couldn’t place him. His features were nondescript and his short hair offered no clues either.

  “It’s been a busy year. Give me a hint?” So far he wasn’t showing any signs that he meant to hit me on the head.

  No joke, I scre
amed when his face flicker-melted into that of the scary clown I’d met in Wedderburn’s office and seen on New Year’s Eve. Stumbling back a step, I glanced around like a tweaker making sure nobody else had seen that. Shit. There was a kid standing behind me, pale and trembling. His mouth opened but no sounds came out.

  “Did you see…?”

  God, I hate to do this.

  “What?”

  “That dude—”

  “My bodyguard?” Which made me sound pretentious but other kids at Blackbriar had them. “What about him?”

  “N-never mind.” The boy sprinted past me and practically dove into the waiting town car.

  Well, there’s a new phobia for him to talk about in therapy. I just hoped they didn’t put him on psychotropic meds. Wedderburn’s muscle wore a smirk when I turned back to him.

  “Walk with me,” he said.

  “I don’t think we have anything to talk about.”

  “You’d be wrong. Boss says I’m supposed to stick with you, take your orders, until we bring your dad back.”

  Surprised, I jerked a look at him and he seemed to be serious. “I figured he was behind this.”

  After what he did to my mom.

  “Nah, this is classic opposition. From gossip around the water cooler, his game with you in play was going smooth as hell. They can’t let him execute.”

  “I guess that doesn’t mean killing people, because from what I’ve seen, that’s fine.”

  The thing laughed. “Good one. And, yeah, I mean they can’t let him just power through without throwing up some blocks.”

  Rage exploded behind my eyes. “You realize this is my father we’re talking about. It may be a minor inconvenience to Wedderburn, but—”

  “Settle down,” he cut in. “I don’t care about your feelings or your problems but I am here to help you find him. Wedderburn’s got feelers out, just like you have, and when he figures out where those idiots are keeping your old man, we’ll move in.”

  “Sounds like he’s pretty sure those idiots are Dwyer & Fell.”

  “Who else would it be?”

  That made sense. The Harbinger had no interest in my dad; he wouldn’t even protect him. And while he was plenty pissed off at me, I could reasonably clear him of that kidnapping. He made a deal with the monster, which recognized him but didn’t treat him like a boss or a master or whatever. God, this shit is confusing.

  “Point. So what am I supposed to do with you?”

  “Treat me like furniture. I go where you go. I’ll escort you to and from school. I’m not supposed to let anyone touch you before you turn eighteen.”

  “Define ‘touch.’” Did this mean I’d have a killer clown blocking me from spending time with Kian? Explaining that would probably give me an aneurysm.

  “I’m muscle,” he said on a sigh. “And protection. Get it?”

  For a few seconds, I considered arguing, but I’d learned my lesson about biting off more than I could chew. “I got it. So what’s your name?” Kian had already told me, but I was curious what it would say.

  “Buzzkill.”

  Crap. A sudden problem occurred to me. If he went into the condemned school with me, he’d recognize Raoul. Likewise, the apartment. So the situation would force me to be more of an asshole than I wanted to be to someone helping me, even if it was at Wedderburn’s direction. He might still consider me an asset—it didn’t seem like he’d taken losing Kian badly—but I hated him with every fiber of my being. If there was a way I could save my dad, ensure he lost all his points, and free myself from the game, that was the path I’d run down. Headlong. By killing my mother, he’d made sure I’d never want to hurt anyone else more. I refused to let myself imagine anything irrevocable happening to my dad because of Dwyer & Fell.

  I’ll save him. I have more resources now. Time to act like a jerk.

  “Do what you have to. But don’t expect me to make it easy for you. I don’t have a spare bedroom for scary assholes, and I don’t want you within fifty feet.”

  “So standard restraining-order radius?” He was smiling, as if I’d delighted him with my reaction.

  Yeah, he’d probably think it was weird if I wanted him in my house.

  “That’s fine.”

  Taking me at my word, he fell back, trailing me from the specified distance toward the station. I used the break to text Raoul quickly, warning him we might have a situation. He responded with curt questions and I told him everything I knew. Finally, he asked, Does Buzzkill seem suspicious? Glancing back, I couldn’t tell. Nothing he’d said or done made me think he knew about Raoul, so I typed back, No.

  Fine. We’ll have the lesson as planned. I’ll use a different exit.

  Raoul’s risk of capture was freaking me out; my chest hurt when we got off at the stop closest to the abandoned school. The area was bad enough to unnerve a killer clown apparently because he quickened his pace, cutting the distance between us. I tried to hurry.

  No luck.

  Buzzkill caught up with me. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

  “Training,” I said.

  “At what, murder school?”

  “That’s very judge-y coming from you, killer clown.”

  In response, he showed me his true face.

  “Stop it. You wait here. I’ll come out when I’m done.”

  “I’m not supposed to let you out of my sight.”

  “What’ll you do when I go home? I already said you’re not welcome.”

  “That’s not your problem. And Wedderburn would put me down if I let you go in there on your own.”

  I had to admit, the place looked shady. The building had long since accepted its abandonment, settling comfortably into broken glass and creeping nature. Vines grew up one side of the building, and the parking lot looked more like the site of a meteor crash than a place where you could safely stash a car. Buzzkill set his jaw, his eyes yellow and scary. Even in a business suit and holding a briefcase—probably containing his implements of torture and death—he radiated a terrifying menace. It made people double-take at him because their intuition warned them of danger but their gullible human eyes interpreted the illusion he wore as normal. Harmless, even. I stifled a humorless laugh. Based on his implacable stance, I didn’t foresee winning this argument.

  Bottom line, I couldn’t leave him out here and risk him trailing me. If Raoul got caught, I’d never forgive myself, to say nothing of Kian. Maybe Raoul and I could train at home, if we moved all the furniture out of the living room. Not ideal but better than the alternative.

  “Fine. I’ll reschedule.”

  Turning, I ran toward the station over uneven, broken sidewalk. When I got some distance, I sent Raoul an abort message. If I’d known Buzzkill would refuse to honor the promise he made, I would’ve canceled at school. Then it occurred to me how stupid it was to expect anything from a killer clown. His existence was so bizarre and creepy that I had no words, so I kept staring at him as he followed me from a distance.

  When we stopped at the station, I had to ask, “Okay, so what’s your story?”

  “Look it up. You’re supposed to be smart, right?”

  That ended all conversation between us. Yet he was with me through the transfers, keeping watch from the other side of the train and making commuters nervous. He stalked me all the way back to my apartment, and weirdly, since I knew he had orders from Wedderburn to protect me, I felt a little safer. Buzzkill said nothing when I hurried into my apartment.

  Be careful coming in, I texted to Raoul. We’re under surveillance. For his sake, I hoped the artifact he’d stolen when he vanished was completely foolproof. I checked everywhere, though I couldn’t have said what I was looking for. In my dad’s room, I lost it for a few seconds after drawing in a deep breath scented with his shaving lotion. Tears sprang to my eyes. Usually he kept the door shut but now there was no reason not to look.

  I stilled, staring at the bed. My mom’s side was carefully made, pillows in place, while t
he covers on his side were bunched and rumpled; it was like he didn’t feel comfortable sprawling because he’d been sharing a bed for so long. More than anything, it drove home how broken he was without her, how much he missed her. Even I hadn’t realized how important she was until it was too late to say so.

  My dad had left notes scattered on the bedside table. I sat down on the mattress to flip through them. The equations made sense but it was hard to envision how to build something like this. Beyond a theoretical sense, the biggest problem with time travel was getting humans to survive it. Subatomic particles could slip through but a whole person? Given current understanding of physics, a team of scientists in China had gone so far as to say time travel was impossible. Not that their findings impacted my mom and dad’s work.

  Mine now, if the fucking game has anything to say about it.

  The worst part was, part of me felt like I owed it to my parents to finish what they’d started, if I could. But that move seemed too much like accepting my fate and I’d already vowed not to go gentle into that good night. It would be way better if I could find the exclusion to the rule, some way that ended with me besting these creatures.

  At the moment, I wasn’t hopeful.

  I flipped to some of my dad’s nontheoretical notes, which read like his half of a conversation he wanted to have with my mother. About timelines? It’s better to think of them as alternate worlds. Because I can’t accept time as a straight line, simple forward and back. It’s more like skipping forward to glimpse one possible future or back to what might’ve happened in one version of reality. And, no, I don’t believe in fixed points in time, much as I love Doctor Who. I theorize it’s possible to create a new wrinkle anywhere, especially when you incorporate the issue of space-time, and time as distance.

  Moreover, time is relative, right? So there’s no way to be sure what time stream you’re in when you skip. It’s more like ripples on a pond. So bearing that in mind, we were talking about temporal echoes… That was where the entry stopped, probably because my mom wasn’t around to interject thoughts and kick around hypotheses like they always did. My heart hurt.