Best I give him a cherry-picked version of events now that the stormy waters have calmed.
At the first stoplight on the way to the nearest warehouse-sized furniture store, I tap in my log-in information for the video call app. When my contact list pops up, I spy Cooper’s name with a green dot next to it, which means he’s off duty and can accept calls if he’s in his room. So I click the call icon to the right of his name, and wait as the app tries to connect me to my boyfriend who is trapped in the frozen tundra for another three months.
The call doesn’t go through.
Confused, I glance at the tablet again. It’s giving me a CONNECTION FAILED message, which I haven’t seen before. Usually, when Cooper’s not around, it says something like USER OFFLINE or USER UNAVAILABLE. This new message indicates something’s wrong with the app itself, either on my end or on Cooper’s. I hit the retry option, hoping that it’s a momentary glitch—
Someone honks at me, and I realize the light has turned green. Cursing, I cross the intersection but pull into the first turnoff I come across, the parking lot for a busy Arby’s. I manage to find a narrow space and maneuver my big truck into it. Then I wait impatiently for the app to put me through to Cooper on the second try.
It doesn’t. Same message.
I pull my cracked phone from my pocket, and after psyching myself up, call Ella. Despite the fact she must be drowning in work, since she got assigned to coordinate the museum scene cleanup, she answers on the third ring. “Cal, please tell me you didn’t get yourself into trouble again so soon.”
“Okay,” I say, “first off, I don’t get myself into trouble. Other things, like mustache-twirling evildoers with poor monologuing skills, get me into trouble. And secondly, no, I’m not in trouble. At this exact moment. I just have a mildly concerning question to ask you.”
“Concerning?” She taps something, probably a pen, against a hard surface. “What is it?”
“Cooper. I’m trying to call him, but the app isn’t working. I’m getting a connection error.” I check some settings on my tablet. “All the stuff on my end checks out. The 4G is working. The battery’s charged. I logged in without any issues. Can you find out if there’s something happening on Cooper’s end? Maybe a network meltdown or something? An IT guy asleep at the wheel?” I bite my lip. “Sorry to sound paranoid. I know it’s probably nothing, but…”
“No, no, you have every right to be paranoid.” She clicks away at a keyboard. “Let me get into my email. I’ll shoot off a message to my contact at the Omsk project, see if I can get you some info. She usually replies in five minutes or less. Makes me feel like I’m a total failure at office work.”
“Oh, are you joking with me now?”
She snorts. “Don’t push your luck. I’m still mad you hurt Nick, and extremely pissed you died.”
“Hey, that second one wasn’t my fault.”
“Doesn’t changed the fact I’m pissed.”
I rap my knuckles on the steering wheel. “Is there something I can do to make it up to you?”
“Well…” She draws out the word. “I do need a new sparring partner for training demonstrations. My usual partner, Ortega, is out on an extended assignment in Detroit with his team. Since you haven’t been reinstated for active duty yet, and therefore can’t be drafted onto patrols, I’m thinking you can join me in the training gym every morning at eight o’clock sharp for the next three weeks.”
“That’s cold, Ella.”
“Actually, it’s a kindness,” she says with no emotion whatsoever, “for other agents, seeing as you can heal fast now.”
“You’re going to use me like a punching bag, aren’t you?”
“You better believe it, and you better take every hit without complaint.”
“Is…Is that my official punishment?”
She laughs. “That and a growing mountain of paperwork we are saving just for you.”
“Can’t I be fired instead?”
“No,” she says firmly. “You’re not going anywhere. If I have to chain you to a desk, you’re dotting every T and crossing every I on every single sheet of paper. Although…” Her tone sobers. “You do realize that if the ICM finds out you have powerful magic, they’re going to petition the mayor to have you fired, right?”
“Wait, what?” I sit up ramrod straight. “Why?”
“Because”—she lets out a faint sigh—“as part of our ongoing agreement with the supernatural communities, DSI is not allowed to show partiality to any one supernatural group, or singular entity. They allow us to employ minor practitioners as a courtesy, because minor practitioners are practically meaningless in the grand scheme of supernatural intercommunity political relations. But you are clearly not a minor practitioner, Cal. You’re a powerhouse. And, as we now know, not fully human. Which makes you innately more dangerous in the eyes of most supernatural groups. If the ICM finds out the truth about you…”
“They’re going to panic because my allegiance to DSI marks a significant shift in our position on the map of supernatural political sway?”
“More like it puts us on the map, at least to them.” She clicks a mouse a couple times, and I can almost picture her, sitting at a big captain desk in another fancy, ergonomic chair, shaking her head in annoyance. “We might’ve always been playing their game, but they’ve been content to pretend we’re inconsequential beyond the rare occasions they need something from us. Your existence completely changes that dynamic.”
“But you’re not going to fire me?”
“Of course not!”
“But I’m a massive liability.”
“You’re also a massive boon,” she says with an echo of incredulity. “Cal, you killed a born vampire with a single spell that nearly brought down half that atrium. Combine that with the fact you’ve become much harder to kill, and you’re an asset like no other. You can protect people far better than you did before. You can survive in situations that would kill most of us. You can defeat enemies that the rest of us can’t hope to touch. You were a good agent before, inexperienced team baby that you were. But now?”
“I’m a secret weapon?”
“You’re a tipping point,” she clarifies. “If we need an extra push to win a fight, to win a war, you can be that tipping point. So, no, we’re not going to fire you. And we’re not going to tell a goddamn soul outside DSI that you are anything but a regular human with no special powers whatsoever. And you are going to show up for work like you normally do, and work the same job you normally do, until such time as we need you to bring out the big guns to, say, I don’t know…beat the crap out of another Delos?”
“‘Beat the crap out of’?” I growl. “Ella, if I ever come across another Delos, I will punt him into the fucking sun.”
“That’s the spirit.” She inhales. “Look, I hope you don’t feel like I’m dehumanizing you or anything—”
“I don’t. I get where you’re coming from.” Though it’s odd to think of myself as a special anything, much less a virtual nuke waiting to strike when the time is right. I’m Cal Kinsey, for god’s sake. I’ve gotten my ass kicked by everything from Egyptian death gods to levitating zombies. Now I’m supposed to be the one kicking ass and taking names? Talk about a sudden reversal. This situation is going to take some getting used to. “Though I would prefer it if you don’t refer to me as an ‘asset’ ever again.”
“Sorry, got carried away,” she says sheepishly. “But really, Cal, I am glad you’re okay after the ordeal you went through. I’m glad you didn’t…leave us for good. And fully human or not, you’re still the same reckless kid with the crooked smile and the poorly timed jokes. You’re still the team baby. You’re now just a baby who packs a big punch. And…oh, my god.”
“What?” I grip the steering wheel, worried she’s about to deliver a terrible blow.
She doesn’t respond for a long time. “Um, not to sound insensitive or anything, but do you have any idea how to actually do magic?”
Oh, th
at question is easy to answer: “Nope.”
“Crap.”
“I can learn though.”
“How? We can’t teach you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“What do you mean…?” She trails off and whispers under her breath for a minute, sounding as if she’s reading something to herself. Finally, she says, “Looks like you were right.”
“About what?”
“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but according to this email, the Omsk facility’s entire network went down a couple hours ago. A major server failure. Says it might take up to a week to fix it.”
“A week?” I fight the urge to beat my head against the steering wheel. “If I wait a week to tell Cooper what happened yesterday, he’s going to eat me alive.”
“I could send an email with an overview to my contact.”
I sigh. “Nah, don’t bother. I don’t want Cooper to get half the story and then panic about the other half, thinking it’s worse. I’ll take the heat when they get the system back up and running.” I lean forward and look both ways across the parking lot, checking for oncoming cars. “Thanks anyway, Ella.”
“Sorry I can’t do more, Cal.”
“You do more than enough. Trust me.”
I can sense her smile as she says, “Always nice to hear a compliment. You have a good night now. And please, no more harrowing vampire fights for a while.”
“I hope I never have one of those again.” I carefully ease off the brake and pull out of the parking space. “But I’m only shopping tonight, so you don’t need to worry.”
“Shopping?”
“For some new furniture.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“Me too.” I catch a whiff of something cooking that smells divine, and it stirs my stomach, so I make a quick decision to pull into the drive-thru. “Don’t work yourself too hard now. It’s already late.”
“Hah. You’ve been missing all the fun. I’ve been working until nine every other day since I got promoted.” She grumbles something that sounds like, “Fuck Burbank and his damn agenda. I didn’t want this job for a reason.”
As my truck closes in on the menu board, I reply, “Well, all jobs have a shitty side to make up for the glamorous side, right?”
“Too right, Cal. Too right.” She drops something heavy on her desk. “Anyway, good night. Don’t let the vampires bite.”
“Oh, you’re a real hoot.”
She laughs and cuts the call.
I toss my phone into the passenger seat, shaking my head.
With a large sandwich, some curly fries, and a big soda in my belly, I make a round trip through downtown Aurora, stopping at four stores before I find everything I need tonight and ordering the rest for delivery later in the week. Bank account crying, I pull out of a Walmart parking lot, cross a busy intersection, and start to turn left so I can head home, make my new bed, and immediately pass out onto it. But the tail end of my conversation with Ella won’t stop bouncing around in my head, so instead, I turn right.
Fifteen minutes later, I parallel park across from a familiar shop. Cut the engine. Step out into the chilly night. Cross the street at a quick jog. Enter a narrow alley. Stop in front of a side door. Pull out a key.
Once inside, I make a beeline for a shelf I cleaned up the night before last, a piece of a simple act of atonement that feels like it happened years ago. Without even flicking on a light, I find what I’m looking for in less than thirty seconds. A weighty tome with a nice leather binding, letters etched in gold gilt, spine creased from frequent use. As I heft the book up, I run my thumb down that spine and imagine what it must’ve been like to be the owner of this book, to open it for the first time over two decades ago, at the very start of her long years of training to become a witch. I wonder how she felt reading the first page of this book.
I wonder how I’ll feel reading it too.
Basic Magic for Beginners:
An Introduction to the Fundamentals of Spellcasting
To Be Continued
IN SPELL CASTER
Coming Summer 2018
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About Clara Coulson
Clara Coulson was born and raised in backwoods Virginia, USA. Currently in her mid-twenties, Clara holds a degree in English and Finance from the College of William & Mary and recently retired from the hustle and bustle of Washington, DC to return to the homeland and pick up the quiet writing life.
Clara spends most of her time (when she's not writing) dreaming up new story ideas, studying Japanese, and slowly reading through the several-hundred-book backlog in her budding home library. If she's not occupied with any of those things, then you can probably find her playing with her two cats or lurking in the shadows of various social media websites.
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Day Killer (City of Crows Book 5) Page 26
