Magitek (The Rift Chronicles Book 1)

by BR Kingsolver

  The rest of the alley didn’t reveal anything interesting, so I talked to Tompkins until Novak came back. He still looked pale and shaky, but more like a man who had just puked than a man getting ready to.

  “What’s your affinity?” I asked him.

  “Aeromancy.”

  “Really? Maybe Whittaker did me a solid after all. Come.”

  I led him over to the wall where I suspected our monster had absconded. “I think that’s where our murderer escaped,” I said, pointing upward. “Let’s go.”

  He looked at me like I had lost my mind.

  “What?” I couldn’t figure out why he was hesitating. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  “You want to follow that thing?”

  I took a deep breath. “That’s what we do. Now, either you take me up to the top of that building, or we call DC Whittaker and have him send me another partner. Your choice, Mr. Novak.”

  He looked like he didn’t know whether to cry or get angry, then he grabbed me by the upper arms, and we rose into the air. The problem was, my back was to the wall, and I wanted to face it so I could inspect it for further evidence. My new partner was going to be a chore to break in.

  We passed the roof and stopped, hanging there like a couple of stationary targets. Cops, even if not in uniform, weren’t the most popular people in most parts of town.

  “Can you see anything?” I asked in my sweetest voice. I knew the answer as we were face-to-face, staring at each other.

  “Uh, no.”

  “Then perhaps you could set us down on the roof before someone decides to use us as target practice.”

  “Huh?”

  “Put me down on the roof. Gently.”

  We started to drop.

  “Not there! Over to the left.” He had started to land right on top of the killer’s trail. Didn’t the boy understand anything about preserving evidence?

  As soon as my feet hit the roof, I shook out of his grasp. “We need to have a long talk about proper procedure,” I muttered, turning to look at the deep scars in the bricks on the edge of the roof where our prey had pulled himself over the top.

  We followed its trail, the amount of blood diminishing by the step, across the roof and onto that of the next building. It sort of tipped me off that none of the blood belonged to my quarry. I reached the edge and looked over, down five stories to the busy street below. No way it had gone that way unless it had wings. After a quick look around, I took off to my left, crossing several more roofs until I looked down on another alley three stories below.

  Our monster was purple. It also had more muscles than a professional wrestler.

  “Okay,” I said, “hold me from behind this time. You can do an air shield, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think it would be a good idea to have one in front of us before we touch down.”

  He wrapped his arms around my waist and stepped off the roof, holding me to his chest. A small part of my mind noticed that it was a very nice chest, and that his arms were well-developed. Too bad he hadn’t spent as much time exercising his mind.

  The creature didn’t notice us at first, but we drew its attention when we were about ten feet from the ground. It scrambled out of the dumpster it had been rummaging through and stood facing us when we landed. As soon as Mychal loosened his grip on me, I drew my pistol.

  “Hold it right there! Metropolitan Police. Lie down on your face with your hands above your head.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the shocked expression on Novak’s face. I think he expected me to blast the creature on sight, but one must observe the niceties. It might be someone’s pet, or someone’s brother. Besides, a cop never knew when a media drone might be recording from overhead.

  “What for?” The creature’s mouth wasn’t really shaped for human speech, but its English was understandable. Its head was shaped a bit like a horse’s, and its mouth was filled with alligator teeth. At least seven feet tall, bipedal, and covered with long, silky fur, it had six fingers on its hands and six toes on its ape-like feet. From that close, and since it wore no clothes, it was obviously male. And purple. Did I mention purple?

  “I’m arresting you on suspicion of murdering two humans this morning.”

  “They interrupted my meal.” As if that was reason enough for murder. “I was just protecting my food.”

  I prayed he hadn’t been eating another victim. Having to go through his belly to identify a person wasn’t my idea of a good time.

  “What food?”

  “The restaurant there puts out a box lunch for me every day. Tasty stuff.”

  I envisioned the alley again and almost heaved. His idea of gourmet dining was the rotting food a pizza joint tossed into the dumpster.

  “That’s not an excuse for murder. Now, lie down and give yourself up.”

  He snarled and started toward me. I pulled the trigger, and the magikally enhanced explosive-incendiary round blew a hole in his chest the size of my fist. It rocked him but didn’t stop him. I heard Novak’s gun go off three times before I pulled the trigger again. My second round blew a large hole in the beast’s abdomen, and he stopped. He stood there swaying, then he snarled again, and his knees bent as he prepared to leap at me. My third bullet caught him between the eyes, and he fell in a heap.

  “Call for forensics and have dispatch tell Tompkins that we got his murderer,” I said, holstering my sidearm and walking over to the monster crumpled on the ground. When I got closer, I found that it stunk like garbage, proving once again that we are what we eat.

  I leaned closer. Novak was a pretty good shot. I could see where all three of his bullets had hit the creature in the chest, not that they had hurt it any.

  Novak hung up his phone but didn’t seem to be inclined to inspect our kill any closer. I walked back to him.

  “Let me see your gun.”

  He handed it over. “Is this department issue?” I asked. It was a standard, unmodified nine-millimeter automatic with a twelve-cartridge magazine.

  “Yes. It’s what I carried with narcotics.”

  That didn’t make any sense to me at all. “I thought you were with narco in the Arcane Division.”

  “That’s right.”

  I was stunned. “What kind of cases did you work?”

  “Drug trafficking. You know, people selling magikally enhanced drugs in schools and colleges. I helped break up that ring out in Howard County.”

  Understanding dawned. He had worked upper-class cases. Humans dealing drugs to humans. Mages and witches enhancing drugs and peddling them to rich people’s kids. Soccer moms sharing magikal highs at the country club. That was a long way from the streets where I worked narcotics, and very different drugs. Not to mention very different drug dealers and mules.

  “When we get back to the office, we’re going to trade this popgun in for something with some stopping power,” I said. “Carrying this will just get you killed.”

  Chapter 4

  Back at the station, I filled out my report and got ready to go home. I stopped to chat with someone in the hall, and as a result, I didn’t manage to make it out of the building before Whittaker caught up to me.

  “Danica, Whittaker wants you in his office,” the desk sergeant said as I was making my escape.

  “I just talked to him,” I said, and got a raised eyebrow in return.

  “Unless you’ve added translocation to your repertoire, I’ve spoken to him since you did last,” the sergeant said.

  So, I trudged back up the stairs and down the hall to Whittaker’s office. His door was partially open, so I knocked and stuck my head in.

  “Sergeant James. Come in.” Whittaker wasn’t alone. Another mage sat in the chair I had vacated a few minutes before—a large man, and a little overweight, gray at the temples, wearing an expensive suit.

  “I’m Justus Benning,” he said. He didn’t offer his hand. Mages usually didn’t.

  “Close the door, Dani,” Whittaker said, motioning for
me to take the other chair in front of his desk. “Mr. Benning’s daughter is missing, but he hasn’t been able to get Missing Persons to take him seriously. I’d like you to look into it. Quietly. Don’t ruffle any feathers in the basement.” The Missing Persons Bureau consisted of half-a-dozen prickly cops stuck in the basement of police headquarters, pretending to work and care about their work.

  The Benning Family was one of the Hundred. Serious money and power. “How old is she?” I asked as I sat down.

  “Seventeen. She didn’t come home from a school function two nights ago. The policemen I spoke to spent about fifteen minutes investigating, and said she probably ran off with a boy. Ms. James, she doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

  That her father knew about.

  “I tried going up the chain of command here at the Met, but no one’s taking it seriously,” he continued. “So I came to see Thomas.”

  And most cops probably wouldn’t take it seriously unless her body turned up. I knew that at least a couple dozen teenagers were reported missing every day. More than a few of them had probably crossed the Rift and would never be seen again.

  The Whittaker Family was also one of the Hundred, and the two men were about the same age. It didn’t take a genius or a detective to figure out how I ended up with the case.

  “You’ll authorize my overtime?”

  My boss nodded.

  “Okay, I’ll look into it. But Mr. Benning, if I don’t come up with anything by the end of the month, I’m not going to beat my head against the wall. There is a chance that she doesn’t want to be found or that she can’t be found.”

  I waited while that sank in. He stared straight ahead for two or three minutes, then turned his head and studied my face.

  “Mr. Benning, if she’s crossed the Rift, whether of her own volition or not, we’ll never see her again. It happens. If she’s been eaten by something, the police will never find a body. If the car was abandoned, its parts are probably in Detroit or Dallas by now. But if she’s alive and in this reality, then there will be a trail. And I’m very good at following a trail.”

  Officially, no human had ever crossed the Rift and come back. Neither had anyone ever crossed the Rift and communicated back across it to those on Earth.

  “Sergeant James is very persistent,” Whittaker said. “But if she comes back and tells me she can’t find any leads, I’ll have no choice but to pull her off this.”

  “James. Magitek?”

  I let a bit of a smile play around my lips. “Hunter James was my grandfather.” I had never tried to deny my heritage. My grandfather was responsible for breaking the world, and it made me a pariah in some circles, but it tended to make people leery of screwing with me. Sometimes, in weak moments, I wished that I could move someplace where no one knew me and change my name.

  “I’m prepared to pay a very handsome reward,” Benning said, then he handed me a data chip and a printed picture. His daughter was a stunner. “Everything I could think of about Sarah is on that chip,” he said. “Pictures, school record, list of her friends. I’ve tried tracking her down, but no one seems to know anything.”

  “Or they aren’t willing to talk to her father,” I said.

  “Probably. I’m not so old that I can’t remember my own attitude toward adults when I was that age.” That made him a welcome rarity in my experience. We talked for another fifteen minutes, then I got up to leave.

  “I may have questions after I go through this. I assume there’s contact information for you and your wife?” He nodded. “I’ll update Deputy Commissioner Whittaker, and he’ll let you know if I find anything.”

  “You’re home late. Rough day? Did you eat?”

  I smiled at my roommate. Kirsten was a hearth witch who owned an apothecary shop and worked a normal nine to five Tuesday through Saturday. We had been best friends since high school.

  “Busy day, and I grabbed something at Jenny’s. Whittaker slipped me a special, with guaranteed overtime.”

  I sat down at my computer and plugged in Benning’s chip. Kirsten came and peered over my shoulder.

  “What’s the case?”

  “Missing high school girl. Family is one of the Hundred.”

  “At least it’s not tracking down a demon.”

  “Unless a demon kidnapped her. You never know. The girl could be so beautiful that she charmed the savage beast.”

  Kirsten laughed. “Want a beer?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  She went off to the kitchen while the data on Sarah Benning loaded. Kirsten came back with two beers and handed me one as I pulled up Sarah’s picture.

  “Wow,” Kirsten said.

  “Looks like one of your abandoned love children.”

  She punched me in the shoulder. “Stop.”

  Wavy long blonde hair, clear blue eyes, high cheekbones, a cupid’s bow mouth and a complexion that probably never saw a pimple. Sarah looked like the all-American girl as exemplified by half the stars in Hollywood. She may not have had a boyfriend, but if she didn’t have dozens of boys sniffing around, I would turn in my badge and join a convent. Women who looked like that didn’t lack for company unless it was their choice. Although, when it wasn’t their choice, people like me tended to get involved.

  One of the benefits of hanging around with Kirsten was that there were lots of cast-offs and rejects for me to comfort, if I was so inclined, and Sarah promised to be every bit as beautiful as Kirsten when she matured.

  Next, I opened the file labeled ‘personal characteristics.’ As her father told me, she was seventeen, just starting her senior year in high school. She had the family gift of electrokinesis, though it seemed she was also strong in empathic projection, which was not a normal Benning talent. But as mages bred with mages, each generation seemed to get stronger, and the magiocracy became more entrenched.

  I switched screens and checked out a public database on Diana Benning. Sarah’s mom wasn’t from the Hundred, but considering her looks, there wasn’t any question why Benning married her. What stood out was her strong rating as an empathic projector.

  That talent also told me that if Sarah didn’t have a boyfriend, it was because she didn’t want one. Or maybe she had a dozen. That might be a motive.

  “Femme fatale,” was Kirsten’s verdict. “Makes you wonder if she did run off with someone. You’d think she could fend off anyone who tried to kidnap her.”

  “Maybe. She’s young, and not all kidnappings are accomplished by force.”

  The more I read, the more complicated the girl’s profile became. Athlete, musician, introvert with top grades—or at least that was what her father had given me. She was in line for an academic scholarship to Johns Hopkins, not that she needed one with her family’s money. The list of friends was short. One sibling—a sister six years younger.

  “If she was kidnapped, could it have been for money?” Kirsten asked.

  “That’s one possibility. Benning didn’t say anything about being contacted for a ransom.”

  Hours later, I was lost in the datanet when Kirsten touched me on the shoulder.

  “It’s almost midnight, and you have to go to work in the morning.”

  “Yeah. Thanks. My eyes are about to fall out anyway.” I turned off the computer and stood up, stretching and hearing my joints crack. “Did I tell you that I got a new partner?”

  She chuckled. “No, you didn’t. Anyone interesting?”

  “Mychal Novak of the Novaks. I haven’t figured out if he’s being punished, or I am. Or both.”

  “Hmmm. I’ve seen his picture in the society pages.” She licked her lips. “Bring him around sometime.”

  I chuckled. Not all predators were monsters from beyond the Rift.

  Chapter 5

  Sometimes when I slept, I had dreams of a different world. The world of the demons. In those dreams, my father had survived but crossed the Rift. The dreams weren’t unexpected. I knew they would come but not when. I had never told anyone about them, not
even Kirsten or my grandmother.

  Possibly the dream was triggered by the news of new demon incursions in China. Rift crossings had been fairly quiet in the past couple of years, and a few hundred hungry demons suddenly appearing caught everyone’s attention.

  In the dream, I could see my father in the distance, standing in a hellish landscape that I had come to think of as the land of the demons. He told me that he had figured out a way to come back to Earth. His instructions were in images, not in words, and he told me I had to cross over and combine my power with his.

  Dreams are weird, and I never knew if what I saw and experienced in such dreams was real or a product of my subconscious—a little girl’s hopes and imagination. While I wanted to help him, I was suspicious. Suppose the demons were manipulating him to get hold of me as well?

  So, I figured out a way to go over while being able to find my way back. First, I tied a length of parachute cord around my waist and had Kirsten hold a large spool, doling out the line. Second, I took a loaf of bread and dropped a piece every five steps as I approached the Rift. A part of my mind wanted to laugh, but in the dream it made sense.

  Stepping into the Rift was like entering a river of sparkling colors. It was cold but not wet, and it swirled around me up to my waist. I could walk, even though my feet never touched anything. I waded across, dropping my bread crumbs as I went.

  Eventually, I reached the other shore—the land of the demons. Red sand, heat, and yellow tree-like growths. I turned and looked back. My breadcrumbs formed a line on the surface of the flowing colors that were the Rift. The parachute cord stretched tautly and disappeared into the colored mist.

  As I watched, a ripple formed in the Rift, gradually becoming larger and starting to swirl. It soon became a small whirlpool that grew bigger and bigger, pulling all the bread down into its vortex.

  In the sky above me, a large flying creature appeared. It looked a bit like a pterodactyl with fringed wings and tail. Swooping down, it grabbed the parachute cord in its talons and rose up into the air. I was jerked off my feet and carried aloft.