by Ann Aguirre
Maybe I’ll get back to Pennsylvania before everything explodes.
As I emerged from the brick restroom, the killer clown stepped into view.
DEVIL AND THE DEEP BLUE SEA
“Funny how much trouble your pet gets into,” Buzzkill observed. “Though from where I’m standing, you two sure play some twisted games. Jesus. And I thought I was messed up.”
His arrival meant all manner of terrible things, but I still choked the urge to laugh. The killer clown had always struck me that way, all carnage and inappropriate humor. Honestly speaking, he’d made an awesome ally when I could trust him not to murder me in the most gruesome manner possible. I froze, sensing that this encounter wouldn’t stop at clever repartee.
The Harbinger morphed into the appearance I’d grown accustomed to, when he wasn’t pretending to be someone else. At this point, I had been exposed to his aura so much that I only shuddered in discomfort. Or maybe it was more that his strength had been so depleted fighting into that warded warehouse that he didn’t have the juice for a powerful display.
“You have an unprecedented fascination in my business,” the Harbinger said.
“Sucks for you. From here, I can tell you’re running on empty. You won’t win this fight, and I can’t end you. So let’s save the posturing; just give me the girl.”
Weird. In my experience, Buzzkill was always eager for a battle, but this was the second time he’d tried to reach a resolution through verbal means. Either he likes the Harbinger or he’s wary of him. But that question didn’t change the fact that we were in a bad situation.
“I take it your master gave his blessing.”
“Obviously. How would it look if the boss backed down from some indie asshole who doesn’t even play the game?”
Just then, I couldn’t factor what it would mean for my mission, but the time had come to stop pretending to be a helpless, normal girl. The Harbinger could burn himself into a shadow trying to fight Buzzkill, and in the end, the clown would still drag me out off by the hair to see his boss, presuming he didn’t execute me on the spot. I tapped Aegis and called it to me in a whisper; the bracelet shifted into the glowing golden blade that slain so many immortals in the other timeline.
“What the hell,” Buzzkill said.
“Enough bullshit. Let’s go.” I stepped forward.
“Edie.” Actual fear vibrated in the Harbinger’s voice.
Ignoring that, I positioned the sword before me as Raoul had taught me, sparing a moment to mentally shake my head over the irony that the Black Watch’s training might save me from a murderous immortal as I tried to flee from a kidnapping attempt by the former. My life has become a Gordian knot. Yet I didn’t feel confident about this fight. Luck let me win last time, and I couldn’t count on that again. Since it was daytime, however, the clown wouldn’t be able to strike from the shadows. He excelled at stalk-and-kill tactics, so maybe I had a shot.
Maybe.
“Don’t stop, little girl. Let’s play a game. You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.” Blades appeared in the clown’s hands, twin serrated knives that would hack through bone in a messy aggressive slash.
He came at me so fast I barely had time to block, and both knives slammed against my sword hard enough to knock me backward. I didn’t make the mistake of rushing him; instead, I readied myself for his next run, and this time, I sidestepped and twirled my blade in a move that would’ve disemboweled anyone else. But I left my flank open, so his lunging blade opened a long jagged cut on my arm. One minute he was there, and then he was just … gone. Blood poured from my slashed biceps, a white-hot throbbing that affected my ability to guide Aegis. The injury seemed to inflame my weapon, though, because it trembled in my hand … like it was hungry, even for my blood.
What the hell did Govannon give me?
Laughter echoed all around us. “This is fun. I can see why you’re so desperate to keep her, Trick.”
“You cannot win,” the Harbinger snarled, low. “Not alone. Let me in.”
“Huh?”
“If you trust me even a little, say yes.”
Then a clown-shaped monster nearly beheaded me from behind; the speed and force of the attack left me reeling. I ducked and swiveled, going for Buzzkill’s knees, but I only sliced the air. Next time, that’s the end. There was only one decision I could make.
“Yes,” I said.
A swathe of darkness filled me, and it was excruciating, like swallowing a car. Every fiber of me throbbed with the Harbinger, his eyes, my eyes, his hands, my hands, and then he wrenched control of my body from me. I watched as he ignored my various injuries and readied Aegis with far more grace and precision than I could have mustered, even when I was training with Raoul. He crouched, ready to strike, and the killer clown paused.
“Foul,” he muttered.
“Come on, then. You wanted a war.”
The Harbinger leapt. This battle might kill me anyway. Surely my body wasn’t meant to twist like this, bounce off walls, or flip in midair. Sparks rang out repeatedly as the weapons struck home, a flurry of feints, parries, and strikes too fast for me to track, let alone match. Buzzkill tried his there-and-gone tactics, but against the Harbinger, it proved fruitless, as he seemed to know exactly where the other immortal would appear. The clown landed a few more strikes, glancing slices that would wear us down.
It couldn’t have been more than two minutes, but it felt like an eternity trapped in my own head. As the Harbinger anticipated another move, he swung, and in that same motion, he relinquished control so it was me severing Buzzkill’s head from his neck. For the second time, he dissolved in a burst of black smoke. And I fell over. Every inch of me hurt, as if I’d pulled all my muscles simultaneously.
“Aegis can’t leave your hands,” he said, as if I’d asked for an explanation.
I didn’t have the breath to discuss the implications of him using me as a marionette. In all likelihood, he’d saved us both, but it hurt to breathe and I was bleeding in three places, plus all the injuries I’d received from the Black Watch now felt worse than ever. Somehow I clawed to my feet and stumbled a step toward the parking lot.
“Thanks.”
He stilled. “I didn’t expect that.”
“Should I complain about making it through another day?” This should buy some time, as Wedderburn didn’t have the same sense of time as mortals. The winter king trusted Buzzkill, so he’d assume his chief enforcer had a good reason for going incommunicado. If I was lucky, it would take a few months for him to wonder what went down.
The Harbinger didn’t respond to that. Instead, he inspected my wounds wearing an inscrutable expression. “You’re in poor condition.”
“Thanks. I hadn’t noticed.”
If he registered my sarcasm, he gave no sign. “We should return to the vehicle, or she might leave us behind.”
“I think she’d look for us first.”
Sure enough, Nadine was headed this way. “Do you have enough power to camouflage my wounds?”
“That I can manage. Tweaking human perception is a small matter. She already expects you to look a certain way. I’m only fulfilling those expectations.”
“So completely changing my appearance would be tougher?”
“Yes, but not impossible.”
Since he’d created a simulacrum to keep my father company in the other timeline, I didn’t doubt it. By the time Nadine noticed us, he was a child and I wasn’t limping. Okay, I totally was, but she didn’t notice. She offered a cheerful wave.
“I was afraid you fell in,” she said to the Harbinger.
His expression was priceless, but somehow he didn’t respond. He pulled on my hand, likely wanting to get back in the truck and put some distance between us and this supernatural crime scene. Would the Oracle be able to tell Wedderburn exactly what happened? Her purview was the future, not the past, though. He could send someone to find out using the same tech I traveled here with, but that was where shit got confusin
g. Because if they intervened, they couldn’t change this, it would only create an alternate possibility. However, if he sent someone to watch, then theoretically, the agent could report back on Aegis, me, and the Harbinger.
These convoluted thoughts in conjunction with awful physical pain occupied my focus for several hundred miles. For obvious reasons, we couldn’t talk about what went down, and the words clustered thick and heated in my throat. I had so many mixed feelings about being used that way; even now, the sense of him lingered, like I was alone in my head, but … not. I’d had him crammed in every possible space, from the tips of my fingers to my toes.
“I’m stopping for a nap here,” Nadine said eventually.
“No problem.”
We paused for two hours at the next rest area, and then she drove straight through. When she got off the interstate at Cross Point, I was mostly numb. I recognized the south side somewhat, so I said, “You can let us off here. We’re not far now.”
A single bus ride would get me back to the Baltimore. Probably I should be more effusive in my thanks, as we’d been together for like twenty hours all told, but my energy level dipped to subzero, like I might pass out at any moment. That would extend our relationship in ways that would be desperately unsafe for such a kind woman.
“Here’s my card. If you need anything, let me know. I probably won’t be nearby, but I know lots of people, a perk of traveling. Also, once you’re settled, maybe drop me a line?”
“Okay. Thank you for everything.” Gathering my pathetic plastic bundle of stinky clothes, I opened the truck door, and the Harbinger scampered out. He was getting better at pretending to be a little kid.
As Nadine pulled away, we crossed the street at the corner and walked half a block to the nearest bus stop. Once she was gone, he slipped seamlessly into his Colin persona. Good thing it was too cold for a ton of pedestrians to be out, as one guy did a double take, and then shook his head. The Harbinger wrapped an arm around me, not in affection, but to keep me upright. Sitting in the truck for so long made my bruises stiff, and I’d hit the wall, endurance-wise.
“Hang on.” Surely I was imagining how worried he sounded.
But my head swam as we climbed on the bus. The Harbinger did something to the driver, so he didn’t say anything when we didn’t pay the fare. I collapsed near the front and floated most of the way through downtown. In fact, the Harbinger nudged me when my stop came because I didn’t even notice. Stumbling, I fell off the bus more than stepped down; he took my arm and guided me to the Baltimore. I didn’t have my key, so we climbed the fire escape, and it turned out that breaking into my room was every bit as easy as I’d once imagined.
“Take a hot shower,” he ordered.
I mumbled a protest.
Really I just wanted to flop on my bed, which was actually made. That meant the cleaning lady had come in while I was gone. They promised weekly maid service, but her efforts had been hit or miss. Checking around, it seemed like nothing was missing, not that I had much.
“You’re covered in blood. Would you rather I scrub you down?”
That galvanized me into action. Somehow I mustered the energy to get in the tub and turn on the water, but I didn’t do much more than rinse off. He brought me clean clothes and checked my cuts. Like a wax figure, I let him and then stumbled to bed.
I passed out.
When I woke, I had no idea what day it was, and there were two people in my room. For a moment, I wondered if it had all been a dream. Am I in Boston? No, same shitty room at the Baltimore. Checking my wounds showed old scabs instead of raw flesh. To my astonishment, I felt a thousand times better. Sitting up, I recognized Rochelle, the healing goddess I’d met before. No wonder I don’t feel like microwaved death anymore. She smiled at me and beckoned, indicating the food on the table, the only real meal this dingy room had ever seen.
“You must be special. He cashed in his single remaining favor for me to make a house call. Come and eat. I can only do so much; your body must do the rest.”
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I picked up a bowl of oatmeal. “What day is it?”
Rochelle shrugged. “They’re all the same to me. Maybe check your cell?”
“Wish I could,” I mumbled.
The Harbinger rose from the ripped vinyl armchair and offered a battered flip phone similar to the one the Black Watch had confiscated. “Will this work?”
“How…?”
He seemed uncomfortable, unable to meet my gaze. “The birds are always finding things. This should serve while you’re here, as long as you need it. I also liberated a spare key for you from the cretin behind the desk.”
“Damn. You’ve been busy. How long was I out?”
“Almost a day,” he said softly.
He was worried, I realized. That’s why he called Rochelle.
“Thank you.”
“Please let her eat. The girl can’t regain her strength without proper nutrition. And you should refrain from riding her for at least a month.” She didn’t sound judgmental, but hearing it put that way made me blush furiously.
Fighting the urge to react like a manga heroine, I lowered my head and devoured oatmeal, bacon, fruit, toast, and yogurt. The Harbinger went over to Rochelle and made conversation in a tone too low for me to catch. Since I didn’t know how I felt at this moment, I enjoyed the respite from supernatural intervention.
“She’ll live,” Rochelle said, loud enough for me to hear, after a few minutes. “But don’t call me again. We’re even now, and I don’t want your feuds spilling onto me.”
“Understood.”
He went to the window and opened it. At first, I only stared in bewilderment because it was like fifteen degrees outside; then Rochelle shifted into a blue bird and darted out. I guessed all the supernaturals didn’t travel the same way. That’s pretty cool. Wonder if it takes less energy than folding space. But that wouldn’t have permitted the Harbinger to get us both to safety, unless he could transform me too? Unlikely.
But … he could have left you behind. And he chose not to.
It would be a shitty rescue to break someone out and then be like, Good luck getting home, but still. The Harbinger turned with his usual air of faint disdain. “Your adventures aren’t as enthralling as I’d hoped.”
“When was the last time you colored with crayons?”
“That would be never.”
“You shouldn’t have burned your last favor with Rochelle for me. I know you stockpile those like currency.”
“If you feel guilty, then acknowledge that you owe me.”
That was a dangerous admission to make, given his nature, and our interactions to date, but honesty wouldn’t let me lie. “I definitely do.”
His eyes widened ever so slightly, infinitesimal surprise. It wasn’t that his features gave no sign of his reactions; rather, they were micro-expressions, minute shifts, and apparently I’d gotten better at reading them. A surge of affection surprised me, strong enough that I fought the urge to hug him. The Harbinger’s favor might kill me, but I was starting to think maybe ending up as one of his broken toys might not be the worst fate.
Or maybe I have Stockholm syndrome.
“This means that if I call the marker due, you must honor the debt, dearling. You do understand that?”
“Yeah, I got it. Write me down in your debt ledger.”
“Even if repaying me means you cannot save your beloved boy?” His voice went sweet and silky, sending a fearful shiver through me.
That was exactly the sort of devil and deep-blue-sea choice that would amuse the shit out of him. “Please don’t put me in that position.”
“If you deny me in my hour of need, there will be a forfeit. Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but I am a petty, jealous god.”
“Here’s the thing,” I said quietly. “You claim to enjoy being around me because I see you as you are, because I’m not scared of you. But here you are, trying to freak me out.”
“You know the story
of the frog and scorpion, I trust?”
I nodded.
“The scorpion never claims his actions make sense, does he? Sometimes one’s nature conflicts directly with other desires.”
“True. Well, whatever you need, I’ll be there. You’ve been my only friend for what feels like forever.” Who knew time travel was so lonely? It definitely lent me a new understanding of Doctor Who, and I had only been doing this for a few weeks, not a thousand years.
“I don’t take such promises lightly,” he said.
A shiver of prescience tingled down my spine, like this moment hung us both over a precipice, and if he didn’t catch me I’d fall. Catching the Harbinger’s gaze, I held it, and a static charge gathered between us, like a gathering storm. Fate couldn’t be so cruel, right? I won’t be asked to choose between Kian and the Harbinger. Yet even uncertain of the outcome, if I could truly shape a different future for my first love, there was only one answer I could give.
“Neither do I.”
THE TRUTH ABOUT CONSEQUENCES
After the Harbinger left, I slept more, though I didn’t mean to. On awakening, my body felt weird and slightly numb. My fingers tingled, so I flexed them. A glimmer of gold showed through my fingernails, but when I blinked, it was gone. Did I imagine that? Wonder if that’s a side effect of the healing? Or maybe it has to do with Aegis? When I rolled out of bed, I ached with bizarre pain flashes in my joints, places that weren’t even wounded before.
Well, that’s new.
Filing the issue under “things I can’t understand or change,” I added Kian to my bird-acquired phone. I didn’t remember anyone else’s number, but this was the only one I needed. According to the time, it was just after four on a Thursday, so I had been gone almost a week. Biting my lip, I tapped out a text.
Sorry, this is Nine. New phone number. Ran into some trouble. Everything OK?
