A fist flew at his face. It was an ugly fist, not the worst of the eight that had pummelled him so far – that had been the wombat with the poor hygiene, whose meaty hands had stunk of mud, of blood and of faeces. This fist was an odd orange colour, and considering its owner a fairy, the colouring had to be artificial – whether engineered before birth or not, that was another question, and an answer he didn’t care about. A question that was only a distraction to the pain. The fist hit him, and he knew it would form a bruise.
He swung back, but the fairy easily danced around it. Fairies were hard to fight – they didn’t stick to the ground, they didn’t stay the one size during the fight and they always found a way to gloat. Often in several languages.
The bell rung and the fairy was declared the winner.
Ryan slipped through the ropes and into his corner. The grouchy gnome who had been assigned to him – Trailing Tomas – grunted, and made the same remarks about his lack of fight club prowess as he had done after the previous seven rounds. Cold water was offered, but he pushed it away, not wanting the shock to his system that it would provide. He rubbed the dirty towel over his face, sopping up most of the sweat before discarding it.
The announcer began to talk up his next opponent. A gnome this time – which excited his assistant to no end. Four minutes with a gnome – significantly easier than some of the bouts he’d already survived. Gnomes were easy enough to fight with enough practice – they didn’t have the same bag of tricks that fairies did, instead relying more on their solid structure, and insignificant psychic power.
The psychic power was nothing more than a distraction – they’d either lost the ability to do more with it over time, or never had it to begin with – their historical records were unclear on the point. It was a whisper in the ear, a shade in the corner of your eye, barely anything at all – unless you were also trying to counter blows to your body, and fight back. Not fight back to win necessarily, there was no need to win – but fight back enough to draw, to not be knocked out, to survive until the next round.
The next round was all that mattered. Surviving the day. To pay what was due before putting the entire painful affair aside for another year. The announcer called him – by race, not by name – and he moved back up into the ring. Today he wasn’t a person. Today he was nothing more than “the agent”.
The gnome was dark green, just over four feet and no match for him. Whoever had done the skin colouration had apparently also had a special on hair. Twigs, leaves and thorns were woven in – a nymph look, a hob look. The gnome – Hurried Horace, according to the announcer and the crowd – gave him a half-bow. He extended his left palm before snapping it closed – the traditional greeting for gnomes, then looked to the announcer.
The fairy announcer – as he has done for the previous eight rounds – began to count down from ten as he spread his wings and rose above the ring, and out of the way of flying fists.
Four minute rounds – long enough for a good show, long enough to allow his opponent to get a few good hits in, short enough to allow the multitude of rounds that were ahead of him. Forty-nine rounds today. More than enough to make him hurt, which was all she wanted. He was grateful for the lack of ceremony – the only thing that made the day even longer was the one-hour lunch break, and that he was grateful for – it allowed him to get some sleep in if he needed, or to do some of the paperwork he had smuggled with him in his duffel bag.
The entire bar booed as he knocked the gnome onto its back. The entire bar - and that included the few storage facility staff that had come to watch – or had already been there drinking. He listed their names, and made a note to let it affect them negatively during their next performance review.
The minutes passed quickly, and with the gnome lying bleeding on the ground, he was declared the winner – for only the second time that day.
He slipped out of the ring and into his chair. He closed his eyes and wondered if he could run a thirty-second sleep program. A bottle of water was pressed against his open palm, and he opened his eyes. A tiny hand held the bottle. A familiar tiny hand.
‘You do know,’ Stef said, ‘that the guy who was here was cheering for the other team, right?’
‘No one cheers for the agent,’ he said as he sipped at the room-temperature water.
‘I will,’ she said as he towelled the sweat from his face, and hair – fluffing it like a mother would to a child. ‘I don’t have any great advice, this is two blokes fighting, it’s never very interesting to me, so...keep your hands up, do whatever with your shoulder, dance around and do whatever else you’re supposed to do.’
‘That’s very good advice.’
‘Oh shut up,’ she said as he threw him the tape so he could rewrap his hands.
‘You haven’t asked,’ he said.
She took the bottle of water from between his knees and took a sip before replacing the cap. ‘Don’t need to know.’
‘Stef-‘
‘Tell me later if you want to. For the moment, I’ll assume that whatever the reason you’re doing this, you want to win, yeah?’
‘I need to finish. Forty more rounds.’
‘Then focus on the punching. Talk later.’
She dabbed some wound sealant against his few cuts, and he felt the slight pinch of skin as the artificial scabs hardened. He smiled at her – at the tiny amount of confidence shining through. ‘Thank you.’
‘Thanks for not wasting five minutes bitching me out cause I’m not supposed to be here.’
‘If I did that every time you did something like this, I’d never have time to be somewhere else that you weren’t supposed to be. You got bored?’
‘Bring me back when my security clearance is high enough so I can play with the cool stuff.’
The announcer called for him, and a strange look came over her face as he stood.
‘What?’
She shrugged. ‘You’re naked, I didn’t know you could do that.’
He sighed. ‘I’m not naked.’
‘You’re not wearing a shirt.’
‘My suit isn’t glued on.’
‘Mine is,’ she said as he stepped up into the ring. ‘But only a little, I had an incident with my stationery drawer.’
He smiled, then turned to face his next opponent.
Ryan’s twenty-fifth opponent was declared the victor as the four-minute bell rung. Stef scowled as the kangaroo took a victory lap, and curled her toes within her sneakers to stop herself from jumping up and helping Ryan from the ring. He was hurt, he was tired, but if she helped him, it would make him look even weaker. It might encourage his next opponents to hit him even harder, instead of fearing his agenty powers like they should. At least being in the Marches meant it was nearly impossible to kill him. Easier to hurt than being in a system area, easier to make him bleed, longer to heal…but still nearly impossible to kill an agent for reals.
Sweat dripped down his face as they followed a security guard through the crowd toward the assigned room – one of the small rooms above the club, which had oh-so-generously been provided gratis. Food, however, was apparently extra – or so one of the fairies had informed her about ten rounds ago when he had come by with another cooler full of bottles of water. Cold water, which she had immediately taken out to warm up under the harsh lights.
The club was a strange thing – it was an odd amalgam of things that had no right to be crammed into the same space. The ground floor level was a fairly standard pub – though one definitely designed with fairies and fae in mind – chairs of differing sizes, things that looked like bird feeders hanging from the ceiling for fairies to hang out on when they were Barbie-sized, and drinks in all colours of the rainbow…often all in the one glass. The basement level was the boxing ring, surrounded by a few hundred seats, though apparently it easily converted into a small auditorium for musical performances, or debates. The upper level was rooms, small and dark, for those who were too drunk or too tired to make it home.
He was tired. He was hurting. He needed to go home.
‘You going to shower?’ she asked as she closed the door. ‘I think there’s-‘
‘No,’ he said. He pitched forward and fell onto the short bed with a groan.
‘Okies,’ she said, ‘all that sweat is probably a protective layer or something. Want something to eat?’
‘No, just sleep.’
She lifted the sheet up over him, and left the room quietly. The main level was loud – but she made it through the throng of drinking, swearing fae easily enough. She joined the line at the gnome-height counter and stared up at the menu board. The fairy writing swirled for a moment in her HUD, then turned into English and was placed in a ghostly-blue overlay.
Dangerously non-specific foods such as “curry with meat” and “meat with sauce” stared back along with much stranger items like “rock and trash broth” – obviously for the city hob clientele, and “unicorn(ish) burgers”, the latter proclaiming “you’ll never know the difference”. One item, however, was too unusual not to try – llama burgers.
That still left the problem of Ryan. No food was no good. Obviously, anything too much or too heavy would be more harm than good – would leave him heavy, sluggish, or wanting to puke over his opponents. That in mind, over three hours of fighting-resting-fighting-resting was something that demanded that some nutrients be replaced.
In pale blue, under her pale blue translation, on the far right of the menu was the perfect item: mealfish. Ridiculously, each measly mealfish cost five times the price of her burger, but they were small, filling, and not likely to end in a puking incident.
The gnome in front of her stepped away from the counter, his arms full of burgers and fries.
‘You’re not a gnome,’ the fairy said as she stepped up the counter. ‘Are you?’
‘Not so far as I’m aware.’ Scared Spyder is my gnomish name.
‘And you want?’
‘Llama burger, coffee, and two mealfish.’
‘Want the mealies separate or together?’
‘Together.’
‘Sixty.’
She waved her Bank of Three card across the sensor, and stepped to the left as it flashed green and played a short, silent animation thanking her using their services. The food only took a minute to prepare and hand to her – the burger in a bag, the coffee and cup containing the mealfish in a cardboard cup holder. She mumbled a thank you, and headed up back towards the room, managing to avoid all but the drunkest of fae on the way back up. One asked for her burger, one asked for her shoes and the last asked if she knew where the exit was.
She peeked in the door of the room, and found Ryan still asleep. She closed the door quietly and sat in the hall – there were few enough people around to be able to risk being a tripping hazard. She pulled the llama burger from the bag, closed her eyes and bit into it.
It was delicious. Odd, but delicious – and fit perfectly into her theory of the cuter the animal, the more delicious it was – up until the kitten threshold. The coffee, however, was terrible. She popped the white lid from the container, and emptied all the sugar packets from her pockets into it, which rendered it thankfully drinkable.
Sauce from the burger dripped onto her knee as she nommed on it. She peeked into the bag and found it devoid of any kind of napkin, serviette, or wet wipe. Options limited, she inhaled the rest of the burger, then wiped the paper bag over the sauce stain, spreading it further over the fabric of her uniform pants.
She crumpled the bag into a small ball – which only left more sauce over her hands. With a quick peek to the left, and a slightly longer look to the right, she wiped her hands over the carpeting beside her, then hid the sauce-covered bag behind the fake plant.
She stood, and balanced the drinks tray as she opened the door and went into the room. She placed the cup of mealfish on the tiny bedside table near his head, then – due to the lack of chairs in the room – opened the wardrobe and sat in there.
His uniform hung down beside her. His uniform, which he wasn’t wearing. His uniform, which she’d never seen him without. He wore it everywhere, all the time. He slept in it. He took off various pieces of it, but...he wasn’t wearing it. He wore it to go visit Patty and Magic Mike. He wore it to go get ice cream. It wasn’t just clothes. It was him. He was a cartoon character that wore the same thing every day, and it was so wrong to see him in anything else. No shirt. So weird to see him without a shirt. Before this, it had been as though his skin ended at his neck, and at his wrists, but here, in living colour, was skin. Whatever this was about, was major.
She took a gulp of barely-drinkable coffee.
Major, or he really hadn’t expected her to follow, and this is what he was like without her around. Maybe he really hadn’t wanted her to follow, and say stupid things, and be an annoying, childish distraction. She picked at her left shirt cuff, at the dried glue she hadn’t bothered requiring away before leaving true system territory, and felt like a worthless former-human-being.
Hot prickles of self-loathing, of guilt, and of embarrassment did the cha-cha up and down her spine as she watched him sleep for a minute more. She choked down the rest of her coffee, hid it in the corner of the wardrobe, stood, and began to sneak towards the door.
‘Trying to sneak away?’
Her hand froze an inch from the door handle. ‘…yeah?’
‘How long do I have?’
She stared at the countdown timer in her HUD. ‘Just over twenty minutes, if they’re starting on time.’
‘Stef?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Do you want to know?’
She gave a shrug.
‘Do you want to keep staring at the door?’
She gave a shrug.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘You’re the one who has various kinds of people beating on your skull for three hours, I should be asking that question.’
‘There’s no permanent damage, there never is.’
‘How long have you been doing this?’
‘Twenty years.’
Twenty years. Twenty years – not just a random number. Not just a random selection of years clumped together. Specific. Very specific for two reasons. She was one of the two reasons…but doubted very much the pseudo-fight-club had anything to do with her, since there was no logical reason for it to have anything to do with her, so that meant the other very specific thing…other very specific person. Carol. Vengeance from a sleeping beauty in an Oubliette seemed unlikely. So that left…nothing. No idea. More data was required.
‘…Carol? This has something to do with her?’
She sneaked a look over her shoulder, and watched him give a nod. ‘I don’t want to know anything you don’t want to tell me, I’m not here to pry, I’m just here to, I don’t even know why I’m here, I just followed, sorry.’
‘I killed her,’ he said, ‘so I have to be punished.’
‘Both parts of that sentence are lies, and you know that.’ He gave a shrug and one of the wound-sealant scabs split. She walked over to the medical kit and pulled the small plastic bottle from the bag and sat cross-legged in front of him. ‘Is this your choice?’ she asked as she ran the applicator through the pink goop. She dabbed it against the scab, and blew on it, waiting for it to seal.
‘It’s my choice to be here. It’s what I deserve.’
‘You didn’t set it up, though.’
‘No.’ He lifted the cup from the bedside table and gave her a questioning look.
‘Mealfish,’ she said, ‘you need to eat something, or yanno, drink, but something other than water, ok, more than just water. It’ll keep you going until you’re done, but there won’t be anything to actually puke up, and you’ll sweat out the water.’
‘It’s good thinking,’ he said, and patted her head, the dirty tape around his hands catching on her messy hair. ‘Sorry.’
‘Would you stop doing that?’
‘What?’
‘Apologising for nothing.’
‘I didn’t want you to see this. To see me, like this.’
‘I’m worried about you.’
‘Her sister,’ he said, ‘has never and will never forgive me. This is...her.’
‘But why?’
‘Promoting it makes money, the tickets make money, the bets make money, seeing me hurt does her good, makes her feel as though I’m paying the tiniest portion of the debt I owe to her for taking Carol away.’
‘That’s, and take it from someone who knows, crazy.’
‘I caused her misery, I’m the reason her sister isn’t turning forty-nine today, and-’
‘Tell her?’
‘No,’ he said firmly, ‘that would destroy her, to know that I couldn’t even be kind enough to kill her, but that I’ve left her in-’ Tears fell. ‘I miss her. I miss her so much.’
‘Isn’t that enough pain?’
He shook his head. ‘She refuses to believe that agents can feel anything – you know,’ he said as the tears rolled from his chin, ‘the argument everyone makes to feel superior over an agent.’
She extracted her tie from her vest and wiped his face. ‘This is bullshit, you’ve got to stop.’
‘I wont have to do it forever,’ he said as he wrung the minuscule amount of water from her tie, ‘no one lives forever.’
‘Them or us?’
He looked away, then slurped the first mealfish through the thick straw.
‘What you nomming on?’
‘A kind of pork pie that a friend used to buy, that aren’t available anymore, and whose required copies have never been as good.’ He put the cup aside. ‘And I am too tired to think of anything complicated.’
‘We can go home if you want. You’ve got the mirror now, you can-’
‘I just...Later please, I think you were the one who said I needed to focus on-’
‘How about yourself?’ she said. ‘Come on, you’re getting beaten up for-’
‘I have to do this.’
She bit her tongue until she tasted blood. ‘Fine. Ok. Later.’
He lifted the drink again, the other eel-like mealfish wriggling as it was sucked up through the straw.
‘And this time?’
‘Lemon meringue.’
I…don’t know how to handle this.
And you want my opinion, Spyder?
If you aren’t here for opinions, why are you here?
Just be grateful I’m a helpful voice, and that I’m not telling you to kill all humans.
I would do that.
For him, I know.
I didn’t mean- Yeah, I would.
I’m in here, I get you, you know.
So tell me what the fsck to do. I’m floundering. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act. I’m…useless right now, and I need to help him. He always helps me.
That’s his job, Spyder.
No, I’m his fscking hobby.
Stef flinched as Ryan hit the ropes. The nymph – a tall, lithe woman with creepy white vines where her eyes should have been – pumped her fists into the air before slamming a foot down on his back. He went down, and stayed down. He was fine – he was still breathing, he was still moving, and the blood around his mouth was local, not from some heinous internal injury. Ribs were broken – there was no doubt of that. Bruises in every colour imaginable coloured his body. Blood and sweat covered him in a sick-looking sheen. He was tired, he was hurt, and for once, he was more mad than she was. There was no other way to describe his actions.
The bell rang to end the thirty-third round, and the creepy nymph was declared the winner. He was on a losing steak – a small break between each rounds or not, each opponent he faced was fresh, new, and wanting to beat on an agent. He collapsed into the chair, all the casual defiance from the first half of the day gone. She stood, and handed him a bottle of water, and began to wipe off the sweat and blood. Red blood from him, bluish-purple blood in a streak across his face, lumpy, chunky green blobs up his arm from the nymph. He was a mess.
‘Go home?’
He tilted his head from side to side, a lazy no, before pouring the contents of the water bottle over his head. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Fine isn’t a word to be used in this situation.’
‘You can go home,’ he said as he scratched at the drying green lumps.
‘No.’
‘What happens if you die?’
‘There’s emergency packs in my bag if anything happens.’
‘You’ve got broken ribs-‘
‘I can fight with broken ribs,’ he said as he dropped the bottle, ‘but not a broken arm, have to save it.’
‘I can run back to the storage facility and require all you need. You just-’
‘Carry laws, Stef, I’ve got all I’m allowed. And there’s no duty reason to allow me more.’
‘What if I beat you over the head and drag you away?’
‘I have to do this,’ he said, ‘I have to.’
‘No you don’t.’
‘I killed her.’
She couldn’t argue the truth the situation, not when people could hear, but it wasn’t the only truth. ‘Isn’t that pain enough? You’re already suffering, you don’t have to-‘
‘Yes,’ he said as he stood, ‘I do.’
‘Should I put Queen Madhe on speed dial?’
‘Weren’t you the one who said love was insanity?’
‘It is, it makes people do crazy things, but-‘
‘Stef.’
‘Ryan, if she loved you even half as much as I do, it’s crazy to think she’s want you doing this to yourself.’
‘I need to be punished for what I did.’
‘You really don’t. You-’
‘Less than twenty to go,’ he said with a forced smile, ‘I’m fine.’
‘You’re setting a bad example for me,’ she said.
‘You weren’t supposed to be here, remember? You weren’t supposed to see any of this.’
‘Not seeing it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, just means I’m not here to help.’
He smiled at her. The announcer stepped into the ring and called the next round. He stood and stepped back up into the ring, a massive area of bruising on his back turning into a black-purple section of modern art.
I’m not being of any help am I? You’ve survived for however long without me here, and you don’t need me here. You don’t need me here. You...don’t need me. I need you. I always need you. You don’t need me. I’m worse than useless, and I’m a distraction.
Spyder...
If I leave, it’ll look suspicious, if I-
Do you remember when you asked me to tell you when you were letting paranoia get the best of you?
How is that relevant right now?
You’re approaching attack-the-fridge-with-a-bat territory. All of this is, trust me, in your head.
Then tell me exactly what help I’m being.
At least you’re cheering for him.
But...he helps me.
Spyder-
...what?
Nothing, you’re not ready to hear it yet.
Is this the part where you turn evil? You aren’t supposed to keep things from me!
You’re keeping things from yourself. For now, just cheer him on.
She cheered him on, cheered him through the rounds he won, through the rounds he lost, through those called a draw. She cheered until the fairy flew back into the ring, and declared it over – until next year.
He slid out of the ring, a large fleshy pile of bruises, cuts and pain. She placed his arm around her shoulders and helped him walk as much as she could – she made for a crutch it nothing else.
They made it back to the room without hurting him more, and he collapsed onto the bed, not bothering to hide his grunts of pain.
She set about cleaning the wounds, following the easy, pictorial guide in her HUD. Most of the wounds were small enough – there was a big cut in his neck, big, but not bleeding too much, it was one she’d leave until last, so that everything else was clean – less chance of cross-contamination that way.
He lay, half-asleep, tears running down his cheeks as she dressed his wounds.
Are you letting yourself think it now?
Yeah.
And?
I don’t know. I want to help him. I do. I...can’t stand to see him miserable like this.
And you already know what you can do to fix this, so do it, or just shut up.
You’re not supposed to say that.
I’m only telling you what you’re already thinking.
You-
I’m you, Spyder, this is an echo chamber.
She smiled down at him. ‘I need to get you another bandage. I’ll be back in a minute.’ She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘And thank you.’
‘For what?’ he asked, his eyes still closed.
‘Just stuff,’ she said, a spike of cold fear making it hard to breathe.
She stood, grabbed the medical kit, and stepped into the small bathroom.
Am I really doing this?
This one is all up to you, Spyder.
Yeah, okies.
She pulled a scalpel from the first aid kit, threw her tie over her shoulder, then undid the first three buttons of her shirt.
Here goes nothing.
Or everything.
It’s worth it.
She pressed the blade to her chest, drew a three-inch blood line over her heart, pushed a finger against the cool surface of the mirror. She pushed the fear away, closed her eyes and made a wish.
* * *
Ryan felt around the bed for one of the discarded blue packets, lifted it, and squeezed the last drops of liquid into his mouth. He dropped the packet back onto the bed, and let out a long breath.
He almost had the urge to use the expression of feeling “too old”...but that wasn’t the truth at all. It hadn’t been any easier the year before, or the year before that, or any of the previous years. Grief, pain, and injury always made for the worst combination.
He heard the bathroom door open, and tilted his head further on the pillow, allowing Stef access to the gash on his neck.
There was a weight on the bed. ‘Just deal with this one, and we’ll head back,’ he said, ‘I’ll feel better once I’m in a system area, I always do.’
Soft fingertips brushed his face, and hair dragged across his chest. Lips touched his for the briefest moment, before pulling away.
He forced his tired eyes open and bright, blue, perfect eyes stared back at him.
‘What have you done to yourself?’ Carol asked.
Everything was in slow motion.
Ryan felt his heart stop. Psychosomatic response or not, it jumped, stopped, then thundered in his chest, the sound booming in his ears, the only thing that was close to real. His eyes were betraying him, showing him something that couldn‘t be real; his skin betrayed him, letting him feel things he would never feel again; his nose betrayed him, her scent
Her lips brushed against his again, and she reached a hand to his bruised face. He winced at the pain...but it was real pain, a pinch woke a dreamer, and this proved it wasn‘t a dream.
A glitch?
Glitch.
He let himself be aware of the thought, the possibility.
Glitch.
It wasn’t a glitch.
If it wasn‘t a glitch, then it had to be...
He looked away from her, to the empty room, to the silent bathroom beyond.
...a wish.
‘Stef,’ he said, ‘Stef?’
The silence sent a hundred terrifying thoughts through his mind.
She peeked around the corner. ‘Present.’
He looked back to Carol for a moment. ‘I-’
It couldn’t be real.
It wasn’t real.
It couldn’t-
He cupped a hand under her chin, looked into her eyes again...eyes he had spent hours staring into. He kissed her, and everything else dropped away.
‘Carol?’
She pulled away to wipe her tears. ‘It‘s me.’
‘I- I need a minute. Gods, please, I-’ he looked towards Stef again, and she gave him a slight nod. She gave him another chaste kiss, and moved out of his way.
He pulled himself, painfully, from the bed, and walked into the small bathroom. He closed the door, needing to concentrate, needing to focus on what she‘d done.
There was blood on the floor. There was blood on the sink, There was blood on her shirt.
‘Gods, Stef, you-’
‘You were miserable,’ she said as she washed her hands and dried her hands on her pants. ‘I had to.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I brought her back for you. I made sure I made the right wish. I wished for the real her, I wished for her to be better. Stop talking to me and get out there already.’
‘Are you all right?’
‘I‘m still here, aren’t I?’
He fixed his best fatherly expression on his face. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I wouldn’t want to make a wish that big again right away, but I’m fine. Ten fingers, ten toes, voice in my head, I’m all here...so much as I was five minutes ago anyway.’
She dug into her pockets, and pulled out handkerchief. ‘There‘s a bit extra here,’ she said, ‘just in case I forgot something, or you need something.’ She pressed the handkerchief into his hand. ‘I can give you four hours, then I’m coming back. We’ve got a meeting tonight, and you need to go that, okies?’
He bent, and gave her a tight hug. ‘I am so mad at you,’ he said, ‘and I love you.’
She smiled. ‘I love you too, and you’re only made cause I did something stupid. I have to borrow your jacket,’ she said, ‘I didn‘t bring mine, and I don’t want to walk around looking like I got stabbed.’
He let her go. ‘Of course.’
She opened the bathroom door and smiled again. ‘Go.’
* * *
Stef watched as he went back to the bed, held the hands of the woman he loved, then kissed her again. She ignored the pain in her chest, of the empty feeling around her cold heart, of the uncomfortable feeling of a blood shirt again her chin, and retrieved his jacket from the small wardrobe.
The jacket swam on her, it always did, but she buttoned it up, hiding the blood stain, and closed the door on the hugging couple, wondering if Cupid felt like this every time he got a couple back together.
Note to self, find out if Cupid or Eros are real.
Her chest hurt...it never usually hurt after she zipped the skin back up. But...the previous wishes had never been this big before. A heal here, an arm there, an escape. Tiny in comparison to freeing a woman from a cage older than the universe, and giving her back her sanity.
She felt hollow. It was worse than the training sim that had pitted her against a facsimile of some oversized monster. It had kicked her, torn her stomach open and let her innards pour out onto the gym floor. She had only lain there for a moment before being whisked away to respawn, but the feeling had stayed with her, and this was worse.
Three months, three months of being an agent. Three months of being more than a person, less than a person, and a person for the first time. They had been the best/worst three months ever. Three months of steadfastly ignoring the lack of a heartbeat. Three months of having a weird, solid, cold feeling in her chest every moment. It was so strange to miss a heartbeat...and it wasn‘t even something you normally noticed.
She pushed her way through the drinking patrons of the bar, through the fae recounting the best of the forty-nine rounds with varying degrees of accuracy.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped out into the afternoon air of the Marches.
It was just over a kilometre walk to the storage facility, and the shifting spots.
The Marches were a marvel. A small marvel, but a marvel all the same. Borderlands. System-friendly territory inside fairyland. It had taken decades - the initial prep work had been done over a hundred years ago, and the work was ongoing, and maintenance was a lot of work. Magic was magic...but it was also easily enough to explain and imagine as radiation, wave harmonics and quantum...or a gave of rock, paper, scissors.
They...whoever the they were, olden times tech agents and fairy scientists, had found a way to irradiate areas of fairyland to make it at least somewhat system-compatible. It took time, effort, expense, but it had been worth it. The Marches as they stood was a pilot program for an endeavour that had never taken off. One small hunk of fairyland where blue took twice as long to deplete, where it was much harder to kill an agent. It was a promise of a cooperative future that still hadn‘t come to pass, but it was better than nothing.
It was also the best place in the world for the storage facility. A storage facility for all the spoils of war, artefacts, and things the Agency may or may not have. The place to store off the books items and secrets.
It was only in the storage facility that it was possible to shift in and out - and even then it took fives times as long as normal shift...and it wouldn‘t work if something was being “temperamental”.
She swiped her access pass with a hand that somehow still had blood on it, and walked through, avoiding all of the other agents...most of which were probably still at the bar.
The shifting spots were conveniently painted blue. She stood in the centre, and looked up at the skylight above, let her eyes lose focus from the real world, and stared at her HUD. She pulled up her friends list, and opened a channel to Curt. [Hey.]
Her HUD popped a message. [Recruit not on channel, initiate contact?] She clicked the “yes” option. And waited for the earpiece to require itself into existence near Curt, and start to get his attention. [Relaying initial message] her HUD reported after a moment.
[What’s up?]
[It’s weird for you not to be on channel, you ok?]
She heard a sigh and a rustle of paper. [I was...reading a magazine,] he said. [This is my downtime you know.]
[I need you.]
[How serious?]
She refocused on the skylight, and drank in the calming view of the clouds through the dirty glass. [Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve times five. Chrstmas Eve times ten. Please, I-]
[Shift me down already.]
Shift: Recruit O’Connor to current location,
Fifteen seconds later, he appeared.
‘Newbie?’
[Not here.] ‘Heya,’ she said, forcing her voice to sound light.
She required a bag of equipment, and handed it to him. ‘Carry, please?’
‘Sure thing,‘ he said, already in “fake-happy-there’s-nothing-wrong” mode.
He followed her out of the facility without a word, and fell into step beside her as they were a block past the facility. He linked his arm with hers, walking close enough to whisper...and looking innocuous enough to anyone who gave them a casual glance.
‘What‘s up?‘
‘Need to have a private conversation.’
‘How private?’
‘Non-Agency,’ she said as loud as she dared.
He slipped his arm away from hers. ‘Sure,’ he said, back to fake-happy. ‘I know a place.’
He took the lead, and after a half hour walk in the opposite direction of the bar, he turned into a wide concrete driveway.
‘We’re...where?’ she said as she stared at the dilapidated hotel.
He took her hand. ‘Remember that time I found you playing WoW when you were supposed to be learning new paperwork?’
‘What, you mean, yesterday?’ She gave a guilty smirk.
‘Keep that look on your face,’ he said as he pushed open the door.
A thin fairy with a fifteen-o’clock shadow looked up from behind the desk. ‘Hourly or nightly?’
‘Just a few hours,’ Curt said with a ate-a-flock-of-canaries grin.
‘Card,’ the fairy said.
Curt swiped his Bank of Three card against the machine, and the clerk slid across a room card. ‘Upstairs, left. Toys and stuff for sale if you need them.’
‘We‘ll see how we go,’ Curt said with another grin. He squeezed her hand, then dragged her up the stairs.
He swiped the card against the reader, and stepped into the small room. There was a bed, a TV, a tiny bar fridge and a bathroom. It was smaller than the room Ryan had.
Curt placed the bag on the bed, then flopped onto the bed. ‘Close the door. And the first words out of your mouth are going to be “I trust you but”.’
‘I trust you but...’ she prompted.
‘You want a conversation that no one will listen to, you come somewhere like this. It’s cheap, it’s out of the way, and people only come here when they can’t afford anything better, or they just really need a bed in a hurry. No one is going to look twice, and even if they do...’ an awkward look crossed his face. ‘Can I level with you without you going catatonic?’
She sat cross-legged on the bed. ‘Shoot.’
‘Half...more than half of the recruits already think that we’re sleeping together. Sorry.’
‘Why would they-?’
‘We’re always hanging out, we kick everyone out of the gym so we can have it to ourselves, and in other circumstances, it wouldn’t be an altogether unreasonable assumption, I mean, I’m a good looking guy,’ he said with a wink. ‘And it’s better than the alternative.’
‘...do I even want to know?’
He pulled out his small Stef-English dictionary, and flipped through it. ‘That instead of shipping you with me, some people ship you with Ryan.’
Require: cookie.
Oi, genius...
Oh, right.
She opened the equipment bag, and pulled out the small bag of emergency cookies.
‘So I’m the lesser of two evils then?’
‘People are weird.’
‘Says you.’ He stood, rounded the bed, and bent down to her level. After a moment, he began to unbutton Ryan’s jacket. ‘You going to tell me why you’re covered in blood?’ he said as he pushed the jacket to the floor. ‘What happened, newbie?’ He looked at her bloody shirt. ‘I mean...I know what blood there means.’
She patted the bed in front of her, and he sat.
‘I made a wish,’ she said. ‘And I don’t know if it’s the best or worst thing I ever did.’
‘How much bigger than Christmas Eve is this?’
She lifted a hand and held her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. ‘This time a million.’
‘Tell me.’
‘You can’t can’t can’t tell anyone about this, ok? Only the four of us can know, cause it’s deep, deep shit, it’s...it could be...Oh Christ, this could be waltzing into punishable-by-death territory.’
‘Gods, what did you do. And who’s the fourth?’
‘That’s the secret. You, you in all the way on this?’
‘You never have to ask me that, of course I am.’
‘Do you know the rumour about Ryan killing his girlfriend? Lie. Well, truth as it is on reports, and official stuff, but lie. He had a girlfriend, love of his life kinda girlfriend. She got the same deal I did, but without the mirror.’
‘Human into Agent experiment?’
‘Yeah. Something went wrong, and she went...she killed people, and Taylor, and Ryan had to deal with her.’
‘He couldn’t pull the trigger on her.’
‘Could you?’
‘Not on someone I loved.’
‘He locked her in an Oubliette. That’s where she’s been for twenty years. Today’s her birthday. Ryan was doing some sort of vengeance fight club thing...you’ll have to ask him for the details, I didn’t care about that bit. You should have seen him, he was...sadpants. Major sadpants.’
‘And you brought her back.’
‘Yeah.’
He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘I’m not going to get mad at you, because that’s not what you need right now, but...you could have wished yourself away.’
‘It was worth the risk.’
‘No it wasn’t.’
‘He looked worse than I did after I tried to kill myself.’ His eyes went wide at that. ‘Oh come on, does that really surprise you?’ she said, forcing a cold edge to her voice. ‘Second-worst day of my life, and he looked more miserable.’
‘And do you think he would have been happy if you’d evaporated?’
‘He would have had her. I can’t do everything for him, and there’s ways that a partner can make you happy that a child can’t. I take so much from him that it’s never going to be an equal exchange.’
‘Life isn’t alchemy, newbie.’
‘Hey, you’re learning,’ she said with a smile. ‘We can talk, but I can’t fix his problems, I can’t be there for him like a real person can.’
‘I’ve known him for longer than you have, newbie. He never used to smile before you were around. I think you’re underestimating yourself.’
‘Even so. He needs...her.’
‘Not at the expense of you.’
‘I have no idea what to do about this. I have no idea what I’ve done, if it’s good, it’s bad, or if he hates me for it because I made things complicated.’
‘Did he seem mad?’
‘He seemed like he was in shock.’
‘That’s completely understandable.’
He dragged the equipment bag between them. ‘What’s this for?’
‘I needed a second pair of hands, pull it out.’
He went about pulling the items from the bag as she unbuttoned her vest, dropped it on the bed, then stripped off her shirt.
‘Uh, Stef-’
‘You already know what I look like naked,’ she said as she dropped her bra on the pile of clothes. ‘So don’t get weird, it’s easier to do this naked.’
He rubbed at his eyes for the moment, then lifted the hand-held scanner. ‘Ultrasound?’
‘Close enough.’
He handed her the tube of gel, and she spread it over her chest. She wiped her hand on the sheet, and pulled the tablet computer from the pile and switched it on, then reached across and turned on the scanner, then laid down. ‘Start with my heart.’ She turned her head to the side and propped the tablet up, one more pressed started the program, and she gave him a nod. The cold metal touched her chest. ‘Hold it there for a moment.’
The readout reflected what the empty feeling in her chest already told her.
‘How bad, newbie?’
She swallowed. ‘Ok, do a sweep.’ He ran the small scanner over her whole chest. ‘Oh, that’s what that weird feeling is.’ She gave a short laugh. ‘My lungs have a lot more room to move in there now.’
He dropped the scanner. ‘What.’
She sat up, and turned her back to him. ‘Same area, from the back, please.’
He picked up the tube of gel, squeezed a dollop onto her back, then rubbed in it. She held the scanner in her lap, and stared at the image as he ran the scanner over her back. It gave her the same results.
‘Well?’ he said as he pulled the scanner away from her back.
‘About half,’ she said quietly. ‘I used about half. There’s a lot of spare space in there, so it all feels really weird, and I don’t think it’s healthy.’
‘And going to Jones for help isn’t an option.’
‘He doesn’t even know about your arm. According to Agency records...yeah, well, Russia happened, and that’s about it. Your arm used up hardly anything at all, but they’re going to notice this the next time I get a scan-’ she noticed his look. ‘I didn’t invent this stuff on the spot, Jonesy has had to mod a bunch of stuff so they can keep track of every step of experiment 5323.’ She rested her chin on balled fists for moment. ‘Huh, that might work.’
‘What?’
‘You going to get mad if I make another wish.’
‘Are you going to try and wish for a million wishes and see if that makes you heart whole again?’
‘That’s weirdly poetic. There’s a scalpel in the bag.’
He retrieved the blade. ‘I can’t make it better, but I might be able to hide it. She pressed the tip to the familiar spot over her heart.’
He gently grabbed her hand. ‘You sure you have to do this?’
She put her other hand over his, and held it as she cut into her chest. She let his hand go as she dug in to touch the heart. She made a wish, and felt her heart expand.
‘I can’t change the mass, but I can change the size. Same size, but less dense or whatever,’ she said, the empty feeling disappearing, leaving her with the familiar cold sensation, she made the little wish to zip her chest up, and yanked her fingers free. ‘Maybe it’ll hide, maybe it won’t, but at least I have plausible deniability.’
She lifted a cookie with bloody fingers and bit into it.
‘You have to stop wishing,’ he said, ‘you’ve only been around for three months, you keep going at this pace, and I won’t have to get you a Christmas present.’
‘Cookiemas.’
‘I’m not celebrating your made-up holiday.’
‘I don’t think he has any more not-really-dead girlfriends I have to worry about saving.’
‘I’d like to be able to buy you a Christmas present. You’re chipping away at the one thing keeping you alive, and...gods, you could have died today, Stef.’
‘Like I said, worth it.’
‘Stef-’
She looked up at him. ‘Don’t think that I don’t know, ok? I know, I know, but I haven’t made one frivolous wish, and I can’t have this...god, great power, great opportunity, you know the deal. It’s so hard to see things that I could change, and do nothing about it. Most of the time, there’s other ways to deal with it, guns, paperwork, hugs, whatever; sometimes there’s no way out but wishes, and then I have to.’
‘Don’t do it again.’
‘I can only promise to try.’
‘Do or do not?’
‘Oh, don’t you dare. And only a Sith deals in absolutes.’ She reached into the bag and pulled out a black t-shirt, and slipped it over her head. ‘I got scared. Usually, I make a wish, and it just happens. This time, it poured out through my fingers, and I thought I was going to melt away with it. I don’t want to make another big wish, at least not for a long time, not if I don’t have to. It’s never hurt before, and it hurt this time, and I’m so tired.’
She pushed the scanner and the tablet off the bed, crawled up the bed, and put her head on the pillows. ‘Don’t let me fall asleep, ok? I just need to think about what we’re doing next, but don’t let me fall asleep.’
He grabbed the remote off the bedside table. ‘Even crappy hotel pay TV has like a hundred channels, Ollit’s Life should be on one of them, it’s sort of like the fairyland equivilent of The Simpsons.’
‘Sounds good.'
'What's it about?'
Curt looked down at her, still flicking through the channels, passing over sexy soap operas, infomercials and fairyland reality cop shows.
'The Simpsons if Homer were a middle manager at a sexporium is the best way I can describe it.'
She looked up at him. 'Why do you even know what's on fairy TV?'
'You should sit up if you don't want to go to sleep.'
'I'm good right here.'
'It's...it's part of my reeducation process, I guess. Once I converted over to the good guys, I thought it would be best if I took a fresh look at everything. There's only so much time you can spend in the gym, or taking voluntary patrols or whatever.'
He stopped when he saw the bright animation of the show, but turned the volume down. 'Ever notice me hanging around with any of the other recruits? Ever notice them volunteering to be partnered up with me? I don't have any friends here.'
'You got me.'
'Yeah, I do. Before though...gym, patrols, assignments, I needed something else. Started studying fairyland, thought it would give me an edge when applying for the aide position. They stream fairyland TV in the library, so I used to watch it while studying.'
'...how is it that you can keep denying that you're a closeted geek?'
'Because I still don't understand half of what comes out of your mouth.'
'You didn't tell me if I did a good thing or a bad thing.'
Stef jumping conversation tracks, so normal for her, but still so hard to predict - it was like verbal whiplash. He muted the TV and gave a shrug. 'I can't tell you yet. The fallout from this is going to be massive, you've got to know that.'
'Yeah, I know.'
'Assuming we can do damage control, that we can keep her hidden, we can minimise the utter shitstorm that's brewing, it's going to be hard though.'
'I thought about keeping her down here.'
'Smart. Out of system territory, so even if she's found, she's safe. We're screwed, but she's safe.'
She gave a big sigh. 'Do you see the same problem I do?'
He nodded. 'Yeah. People will start noticing if Ryan is going down to fairyland every day.'
'Yeah,' she said, defeat in her voice, 'pretty much. I've got an alternate though. My old apartment, the Agency is already picking up the bill - Ryan stole it from me while I was dead, which I'm pretty sure is illegal, but whatever. And, it's my place, so it's not going to be weird if he's going there.' She smiled. 'Besides, I never go back there, my home's the Agency now, I was only holding on to it out of habit, and because I kept my stuff there.'
'That would work.'
'Please tell me I did good.'
'Yeah, newbie, you did good. I just hope it stays good.'
He unmuted the television and turned up the volume. 'I've seen this one,' he said as watched Ollit stuck in a window, Winnie-the-Pooh style before shrinking and escaping from his justifiably-angry wife. Ollit buzzed around, just out of her reach, trying to argue the investment value of lottery tickets.
He heard snoring.
'Sleep well, newbie,' he said as he turned the volume down to just audible, and turned on the subtitles. He pulled off his jacket and dropped it over her - it had to be cleaner than the sheets.
After the episode finished, he channel surfed, watched a pundit argue for the unified fae currency; five minutes of a live pursuit, ending with the perp crashing into into the seventeenth floor of an office building, wings twisted; a gnome meditation show, which was barely more intesresting than the landscape channel; then found another Ollit episode.
Five minutes in, after a strange soloquiy among his drinking buddies that started off as an extended metaphor comparing women to beer, and ended up as a speech about taxes, a scream drowned out the fairy's attempts to fly home.
He turned off the TV, and shook Stef's shoulders. She didn't wake up. He shook her harder, and she still screamed. He clamped his hand over her mouth. 'Hey, newbie, wake up.'
She screamed against his hand. 'Stef, wake up.'
He looked away from her to the thin walls - they were soundproof enough to hide the clandestine sex that kept the lights running in the cheap hotel, but he wasn't convinced that it would stand up to tortured screams.
He took his hand away from her mouth for a moment, grabbed her discarded uniform shirt from the end of the bed and tore away one of the sleeves. He wadded the material and forced it into her mouth. She still screamed, or tried to, but the noise was gone.
He stood, kicked his shoes off, but left the socks - somehow, unless he had warning, he never managed to get his socks off in time - and small touches of reality were good. He pulled his pants off, stomped on them for a moment, then put them back on - buttoned, but his fly undone. He discarded his vest and tie, undid all the buttons on his shirt, then rebuttoned it haphazardly, askew, and left half the buttons open.
He looked down at himself and gave a small nod of approval - all in all, he looked like any other client of the hotel. He grabbed his bank card, the room key card, gave Stef, one more look, then left the room.
He bounded down the stairs, hoping to add to his just-had-sex, out-of-breath appearance, and knocked on the front desk.
The clerk took a minute to appear, then came through from the back room, a large container cup from Famous Fry's in his hand. 'Done already?'
'Just getting started, you said you had toys, what you got?'
The fairy opened the small gate and ushered him into the back room.
A wall of whips, chains and cuffs stared back at him. He ignored the masks and aprodesiacs.
'Looking for something special?'
'Looking for something new,' he said. 'Got any mutemasks?'
The fairy unlocked a small cabinent. 'Just the one. Six hundred.'
He stared at the low-quality mutemask - the price was at least three times what was worth. 'Seems fair,' he said. 'Need me to reswipe?'
'Nah, you're good.'
He took the mask, and ran back up the stairs. He ran the room card over the sensor and closed the door behind him. She was still screaming against the impromptu gag.
He carefully extracted the torn sleeve before snapping the mutemask in place over her face. He swivelled the gas canister at the base to break the seal, and there was a hiss of air as it began to pump oxygen into the mask.
The mutemask - low quality or not, soaked up every decibel of her screams.
If she’d been screaming the whole time he’d been gone, then it was fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes and she still hadn’t woken herself up. Fifteen minutes, and he still couldn’t wake her.
He expected thrashing, for her to throw herself side to side and off the bed. She wasn’t. She was twitching, small movements, hands opening and closing, feet twisting.
She was in pain.
She was screaming and she was in pain. Russia all over again. He wanted to hold her – it was so wrong to be sitting by and doing nothing. Useless, he was being fucking useless again.
He reached out for her shoulder, and she flinched like he was toxic. A lump formed in his throat, but he ignored it. He laid down on his own pillows, held her hands, and waited for it to be over.
Thirty minutes later, her eyes opened.
She flailed away from him, pulling at the mask, trying to rip it away. She overbalanced, went off the side of the bed, hit the little table and went still.
‘Stef!’
He slid out of bed after her, lifted the table away and grabbed her shaking form. He freed the snaps and pulled the mask from her face.
She still shook, and tears ran down her cheeks. He pulled her up, and pressed his hands to her head, looking for damage, and his hand came away bloody. ‘Stef, you’re-’
She opened her eyes and focused on him. She stared for a moment, shuffled closer, and pressed herself to his chest. ‘Arms go around,’ she said after a few seconds. He did as he was instructed, and held her trembling form close.
‘You fell asleep,’ he said after a moment.
‘Do you really think you need to tell me that?’
‘No,’ he said, ‘I guess not. Is that...That’s what you go through every night?’
She nodded, and wiped tears away with the back of her hand. ‘Sometimes I get a night off, so it evens out to three or four days a week, but if I get two nights off in a row, I pay for it the next night. How long?’
He raised his head to look at the clock. ‘About forty, forty-five minutes.’
‘Ok, yeah, that’s good, that’s normal.’
‘Nothing about this is normal, Stef.’
This made her push him away. She stood on wobbly legs and climbed back onto the bed, hugging a pillow instead. ‘Why thank you, captain obvious.’
He stood. ‘I can’t help you if I don’t understand.’
‘No one can help me.’
‘I-’
‘Don’t, just don’t. I don’t want to know what’s wrong with me. I’ve never wanted to know what’s wrong with me, and that hasn’t changed just because it’s now magical instead of mental.’ She slumped, and pressed her face into the dirty pillow.
‘Stef-’
‘Labels give people power. I don’t care if people think I’m crazy, I am, so it’s only fair. I care if people can look at me and go “oh, there goes case eight-four-seven-two of paranoid schizophrenia. If that’s even what I have, it’s my best guess. I don’t want to find out what’s wrong with me because it’s not wrong, it’s just me. I don’t want them to label me because a label means they can lock me away, force pills on me, and take her away.’
He looked at her for a moment, then sat beside her. She took a few seconds, then leaned against him. ‘I’ve never...I’ve never said that out loud before,’ she said.
‘What about to Ryan?’
‘...I had an episode, he saw, I didn’t really need to explain...You can’t tell-’
‘Your secret’s safe with me.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I couldn’t wake you up, I tried.’
‘Nothing works,’ she said, ‘and we’ve done some crazy shit to try and prove it. There doesn’t seem to be any outside stimulus that can wake me up. What’s shaking me going to do when blasting out my kneecaps does nothing?’
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault. I wanted to come back...this is just the price I have to pay. I think it’s hell.’
He felt himself suffer mental whiplash a second time. ‘What?’
‘The nightmares...I think it’s hell.’
‘What do you-’
‘Nothing. I don’t remember anything. It’s all just the impression of terror and pain when I wake up.’
‘And you can’t find anyone-’
‘-else who’s going through the same thing? No. It’s not exactly something you would advertise though. And no one can know, the more people know, the more chance they will have to redact experiment 5323, then it’s one of two options, neither of which I want.’
‘Running is always preferable to death.’ He let it hang in the air for a moment. ‘I’m hoping so, anyway.’
10 Years Ago.
Curt stared at the plates. ‘You did the carrots wrong.’
‘I wasn’t supposed to be cooking tonight,’ she said, ‘blame your father.’
He bit the inside of his cheek. ‘I’ll fix it,’ he said, picked up the two plates, and fled from the kitchen. He stared at the plate, taking stock of everything else – at least it was the right plate, the pink one, with the flowers. The sausages were ok, one of the ones on his plate was even curved the way she liked. The gravy was all wrong though – it was touching the potato and peas, unacceptable.
He placed the plates on the low card table. ‘Not yet.’
Small hands grasped for the plate anyway.
He dug into his pocket and handed her a purple pen. ‘Not yet.’
The pen was taken from his hand, the cap was placed neatly to the left of the colouring book, and she went to work with the new colour, filling in the petals on the flowers.
He set about cutting up the carrot into small slices and tossed the ones that were too far from perfect circles back onto his own plate, transposed the sausages, then cleared away the gravy-contaminated potato.
He took one more look at the food, decided it was good enough, and pushed it toward her.
She finished colouring in the last petal, recapped the pen, then put the book in the small basket beside the table.
‘Tara.’
She didn’t look up.
‘Tara.’
He lifted a hand, and brought two fingers close to her face, trying to make her focus. She caught his eyes for a brief second, then looked away again. Good enough, it was a good effort. He handed her the fork, and she began to eat.
Headlights swept across the room as his father pulled into the driveway. There was a two-minute lag before there was the sound of a key in the door. His father always sat there, in the car, in the dark, when he got home, he said it was to clear away the day so he could enjoy being home...it wasn’t an excuse he believed. Whenever he peeked through the window, his father would always be sitting there, his head against the steering wheel, just...sad.
The door was shut, and he watched his father pass through the living room, a bag of fruit in his hand – the best stuff, and also the stuff about to go rotten. The best stuff went in their school lunches, the nearly-bad stuff was dessert, or tossed into the worm bin in the backyard.
Each of them got a kiss on the head as he passed through. ‘How was school?’
‘Great,’ he said. The answer was always “great”, no matter how the day actually had been – except on Tuesdays, on Tuesdays his dad was always in a good mood, so he was ready to listen to if school had been crappy or actually great. It wasn’t Tuesday.
His mother brought in the other two plates, and a bottle of wine.
His parents sat, and ate in silence.
He looked back to Tara, who smiled – not at him, but it was a smile all the same.
Curt watched Stef stare at him like a complicated piece of paperwork – unlike paperwork though, she wasn’t able to crumple him into a small ball and toss him across the room. Not without provoking her, anyway.
‘Huh?’ she said at last.
'There's a reason people like me are so rare,' he said, 'it's because we just don't work. You can rehabilitate monsters, a Solstice is a Solstice is a Solstice and nothing-'
'Blah, blah, blah, you know that's not true.'
'Name one other Solstice recruit you know, name one other Aide.'
'Did you ever stop to think that might just be a special snowflake, Curt O'Connor?'
'I can't stand being around you every day.'
She shrank back like he'd slapped her. 'I didn't think I was that annoying,' she said in a small voice.
'I've never had to be around anyone I've hurt. Every time I look at you, all I can see is you strapped to that godsdamn chair, or what you looked like when I stabbed you. I could have killed you, I could have kiled you and I can't forgive myself for that. You're not one of the monsters that I can rationalise away-'
‘You wanted punishment, so you turned yourself in, they decided that you should get a second chance. Are you going to argue with angels?’
‘I’m a monster,’ he said, defeated.
‘I don’t see a monster, I see my friend.’
'I don't deserve to be your friend.'
'I'm not the greatest company, if you haven't noticed.'
‘You really think I have a future in the Agency?’
‘...you just got the Aide job, why are you leaving?’
He stepped away, but she pulled him back onto the bed. 'I'm not letting you go so easily.'
He pulled at her grip around his arm, but it didn't move. 'Let me go.'
'You really going to do this to yourself? To Ryan? To me?'
He shoved her. Let me go, Stef.'
'Nope.'
'You'll be better off-'
'I would have been better off if I hadn't taken Dorian's job offer, I would have been better off if I hadn't been a recruit, I'd be alive if I hadn't insisted on staying in the field, I would be better off, but I wouldn't be happier.'
'Let me go, Stef.'
'Nah-uh.'
He shot out his right hand and wrapped it around her throat - no pressure, just the promise of pain.
She gave him a bored look. ‘You’re not going to hurt me.’
He leaned closer. ‘And do you have absolute faith in that?’
She gave a small nod.
He applied a small bit of pressure to her throat. 'Move. Please.'
'If I don't get to leave, then neither to you. Ryan needs you, he took you on as his Aide, doesn't that mean anything?'
'More than you can imagine.'
'Then stop being an idiot.'
For a moment, he imagined squeezing her throat, forcing her to react, to let her autopilot take over and deal with him.
For a moment, he wanted it.
She gave a small smile – she trusted him, she trusted him, even though he didn’t deserve it. He let go of her throat, and sat, slumped on the edge of the bed, 'I'll hurt you, I'll disappoint him.'
'You done fine so far.'
‘I don’t deserve-’
‘Get over yourself!’ she snapped. 'Yes, you’re a murderer, you killed people, you probably killed innocent people, and nothing you can ever do will change that. There’s no checks and balances that say “ok, you’re good and this didn’t happen any more”. Story Thieves can’t bring back the dead, so no matter what you do, those people are going to stay in their graves.’
‘Sometimes,’ he said, his shoulders slumping even further. ‘And this is one of those times, I wish you were a normal girl.’
‘My life is bad enough-’
‘-because a normal girl,’ he said, ‘wouldn’t ever want to be around me. I appreciate what you’ve done for me, but it’s so hard to be around you. You might not have nightmares about Russia, but I do. I’ve done-’
She wrapped a hand around his neck, drew him close and kissed his forehead. ‘I forgive you.’
‘Stef-’
She kissed him again. ‘I absolve you, for everything you’ve done.’
He stared at her.
Forgiveness. From an angel.
Heat pricked the back of his eyes.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, let his head flop into her lap, and began to cry.
* * *
She stared down at the crying recruit in her lap – his arms wrapped around her, holding on to her as though she knew the answers to life. She leaned forward, and wrapped both arms around his head as best as she could.
‘Sorry,’ he choked through tears, ‘I’ll let you go, I’ll-’
‘Haven’t you figured out that you may have made it to one of my exemption categories? I’m ok with this.’
‘I don’t deserve it,’ he said.
‘Shh.’
‘You can’t forgive me. You don’t know what I’ve done. You can’t absolve crimes you have no idea about.’
‘Then tell me,’ she said, ‘if you think it’s necessary, then tell me.’
He held her tighter, but raised his face to look up at her. ‘You’ll hate me.’
She pushed the hair back from his his eyes and began to stroke his head. ‘No, I won’t.' She gave him a warm smile. 'Tell me.’
He dropped his head back into her lap. ‘A month after I joined up I helped with my first. And damn I was good. I’d never done anything like that before, never. I swear to you. Fights at school, sure, but I never hurt animals or anything. I was just supposed to be watching, but this...thing wasn’t cooperating, so I stepped up.’
She made a small noise to let him know she was still listening.
‘This thing was horrible-’
He recounted his first kill, what he’d done, what he’d felt, what he hadn’t felt. She felt tears seeping through the fabric of her pants, and she moved her legs to give him more of a lap to rest his head against. He whimpered with every small movement, as if she were going to bolt for the door and leave him behind.
She resumed stroking his hair, her fingers brushing the side of his face.
He told of of his second, his third, how they have given him monsters, things that looked like they had come from nightmares – they had never given him the human-seeming fae, never an agent to work on, never anything that could make him question hunting the things that went bump in the night.
The fourth, the fifth, the beginning of the tattoos, the pride of protecting people from evil. The thought that he was a hero.
The six, the seventh, the breakup with his girlfriend.
The eighth, the ninth, the first time he had seen an agent, the first time he’d run from an agent, learned to fear the people in the suits. The stories they’d rammed into his skull about what agents would do – torture, mutilation, sucking out souls, every scary story they could think of, reused to make everyone afraid of the good guys.
The tenth, and his first promotion.
His stories started to slow, and he took long breaks between sentences, then finally, he was quiet, asleep in her lap, still clutching her for comfort. She began to lift her hand away, but his face twitched in discomfort, and she resumed petting him.
I’m supposed to be the broken one.
You wanted to mother the lost boys, well, one just fell into your lap.
Need more fairy dust.
It’s going to take more than happy thoughts to fix this.
She stared at her HUD and greyed-out the hotel room to focus on the floating windows. A reminder for the meeting sat in a tiny window. Just over two hours till the four hours she had allotted Ryan were up, but they already knew what to do. Get Carol out of fairyland and to her apartment. Easy enough. Easy enough, except for all the things that could go wrong.
She could have made the wrong wish. Ryan could hate her. Ryan could decide that his girlfriend was better than his job and decide to stay in fairyland...and let Taylor run the Agency. Carol could go bad...again, and he'd be even worse than before.
Or...everything could be ok.
She opened up three windows - one paperwork, one coding, one Tetris, and attempted all three at once. It was horrible, but it focused her mind on things other than reality.
The recruit in her lap slept for three forms, eight failed games of Tetris and part of a new macro - just over an hour.
'Sorry,' he said as he sat up.
'Do you feel better?'
'I feel horrible.'
'How's that compare with before?'
He gave a shrug. 'Dunno yet, ask me in a week.' He sat up and pulled her close. 'Thanks Stef, I mean, really thanks.'
'You're my padawan, someone's got to stop you from turning to the dark side.'
Ryan looked at the door as Stef left.
'Go for your gun,' Carol said, a soft hand to his face. 'You wouldn't be you if you didn't.'
He flushed with guilt, of looking a gift horse in the mouth, of thinking that there had to be something wrong, of trying to steel his melting heart against the possibility that he would have to...deal with her again.
'I'm sorry,' he whispered, and stood. He went to the wardrobe and pulled his gun from his holster. He kept the safety on, but leant against the wardrobe door, away from her touch, away from her scent, away from a thousand thousand wants for it to be real.
'I remember...everything,' she said, tears in her perfect eyes. 'Everything I did, every one I hurt, I remember it all.'
'What about after?'
'The Oubliette? That's more like a dream.'
'How do I know that you're- How do I know this is real?'
'There's one way an agent can tell the truth from a lie.'
He set his jaw. 'Never.'
'If it's what it takes for you to believe me, then-'
'No Carol, no.'
She stood and held his hand, then pressed it to her head. 'I don't want you to doubt me.'
He pulled his hand away. 'I'm not going to. Tell me something-'
'You begged me to kill you. Before you banished me, you begged me to kill you.'
'I couldn't imagine being without you.'
'How am I here, Ryan?'
'Mirror magic,' he said.
'Could you use that convince yourself?'
He put his gun down. He pulled away from her, and opened the handkerchief Stef had given him. A small, bloody shard of mirror sat in the centre.
He pressed two fingers to the silver shard. Is this real?
The piece of mirror turned liquid and Stef's blood beaded before sinking into the fabric. The mirror sat as a small pool of mercury for a moment, then formed into the three simple letters that spelt "Yes".
They stayed like that for a moment, then returned to the small pool, before becoming solid again. He wrapped it back up in the bloody cloth, then returned it to his pocket.
He lifted her with weary arms, and carried her to the bed.
For two hours, they just held each other. After the shock wore down, they each cried, taking turns at needing comfort, and giving comfort.
Talk began slowly. A question here, a small snippet of information. Stories of the aftermath. Small, painful truths, old memories brought to the surface.
'What was Taylor's funeral like? Twenty-one gun salute?'
'Taylor,' he paused, 'we brought him back.'
'You can do that?'
'Most often, it's done to retrieve a memory of how an agent died. We did more than that. And he spent twenty years hating me for it.' He went silent. It was the question she hadn't asked. It was the answer he had wanted to delay giving.
'It's been that long?'
He gave her a nod.
'You didn't give up on me.'
'I didn't stop loving you, but I didn't think I would get you back.'
'Is there someone else? That girl who was here?'
'Stef? Gods, no. I haven't been in love with anyone. I didn't look, and I didn't respond if anyone showed an interest. I did my duty, that's all I did, it was more than enough to fill my time.'
'That sounds so lonely.'
'What free time I did have, I spent it talking to Reynolds.'
'Is he still dreaming?'
'I still like to believe he hears some of what happens in the waking world.'
'I didn't mean to bring you so much misery.'
He pressed his hands to her face, then kissed her. 'I have you back, that's what matters to me.'
'What's going to happen now?'
'We can't stay here, I only have this room for a few hours.'
'And I can't go back to the Agency.'
'No.'
'Then what-'
There was a knock, and Curt's voice came through the door. 'Sir, it's us.'
He opened the door, and ushered them in - Stef noticeably a few feet behind.
'Are you sure you're all right?' he asked as she came into the room.
She nodded. 'I'm fine, now stop giving me dad!face. Are things ok here?'
He gave her a nod.
'Hi,' he heard Curt say, 'Curt O'Connor, I'm his Aide.'
'Hello,' Carol said.
'We has a plan,' Stef said, moving to lean against the wardrobe - the room was small enough, but it was crowded with four people there. Curt took a position on the threshold to the bathroom, and he returned to the bed.
Stef turned to look at Carol. 'We didn't get a chance to get introduced before, but I'd like to offer you my apartment. I'm Stef, by the way.'
He looked to her. 'Are you sure?'
'I'm not using it, you've been there a ton of times, it'll fly under the radar better than any other plan we could come up with. Three of us have to be at a meeting in a couple of hours, and I don't think you want to leave her behind in some crappy fairy hotel. You come up with a better plan later, that's ok, but for now, you think it'll work?'
'I think it will.'
Stef pointed at Curt. 'We'll go back up through the warehouse, you take her up some stairs that aren't in the Marches, just so no one sees, have you got petty cash for a cab?'
'I should have plenty.'
'Then shift her across to my apartment, which we will try and clean up a bit by the time you get there. I'll at least get my stuff out of the way.' She turned back to Carol again. 'The meeting's supposed to last two hours, unless Clarke decides to spend an hour on anecdotes...like usual.'
'I'll be all right,' Carol said. 'And thank you, thank you all.'
'Welcome,' Stef said with a bright smile, and Curt gave a nod.
* * *
The walk back to the storage facility was quicker than before, but as before, they slipped through without being noticed by the warehouse agents - something she was glad for. One long, laggy shift had them back in the Agency.
'All limbs present and accounted for?' she asked.
Curt gave a grunt of annoyance.
The Agency blurred, and her apartment faded into view. 'Not what I expected' Curt said as he set about opening the windows.
'What did you expect?'
'It's surprisingly normal.'
'I didn't want to piss off my landlord,' she said, 'so I was nice. It's not like I spent much time out of the bedroom anyway. What's the point of modding meatspace if you never spend any time there?'
'Where do we start?'
She stepped into the kitchen, and closed her eyes. Requirements emptied the fridge and filled it with the basics; cleaned and emptied the cupboards, leaving only the necessities to make tea, coffee and ramen. Another requirement cleaned the floor, and replaced the tiles.
She looked back. 'Chuck all my DVDs in a bag.'
'...and you can't require more why?'
'Hey, some of those are signed!'
'Fine, newbie, fine.'
She stepped into the hall, requirements cleaning and repainting the walls, replacing the bulbs, and putting a bouquet of fresh flowers in a vase on the small entryway table.
She moved the the other bookcases in the living room, requirements sending back books and figures, depositing them in boxes in her office before allowing the bookcases to disappear.
'You should get new curtains,' he said as he deposited a handful of DVDs into a bag.
'Girls like pink, right?'
'Just go for some neutral colours, they can fix it up later.'
She required light, lacy curtains, a new couch, a new rug, and a new coffee table. It didn't look like her living room anymore. A new TV and a new radio finished off the room.
She looked down at the bags he had packed and shifted them back to the Agency.
'This way,' she said as she went into the bedroom.
'Ok, this is more like what I expected.'
Thoughts immediately switched out the curtains and the carpet. She jumped on the bed and bounced up and down. 'Always wanted to do this,' she said, 'but I never did, I didn't want to have to buy a new bed.'
'...are you sure you're older than me?'
She shifted him up onto the bed, and grabbed his hands. 'This is fun,' she said as she bounced. 'Come on, Agent C, have some fun.'
'I'm going to kill Raz.'
'You act like more of an agent than I do,' she said, letting his hands go, and bouncing in circles.
'One of us has to.'
'You're allowed to have some fun,' she said, bouncing near him to make him move.
He bounced once - off the bed. 'They'll be here soon.'
'And I should get to enjoy this place one more time.'
He picked up Alexandria from the bedside table. 'Didn't figure you for a doll collector.' She squeaked, jumped off the bed, and grabbed the doll from his hands. 'Sorry,' he said.
She smoothed out Alexandria's red hair. 'She's just very precious. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her.'
'Oh?' he asked as he moved to open the windows.
'She was a bribe,' she said, 'Ryan brought her with him when I died the first time. She was something familiar, and it worked. It's probably because of her that I remember him at all, just that tiny little bit of memory hanging on. She is my very favourite thing.' She held the doll tightly then shifted her back to her office.
He gave her a funny look.
'What?'
'Nothing, just getting a whole different side of you today.'
She turned and replaced the bed.
'Uh, Stef.'
'What?'
'Come on, a double bed at least.' He snapped his fingers and replaced the small single bed with a king-sized one.
'Oh, that looks springy.'
He grabbed the back of her vest. 'No jumping.'
She hung limply, held up only by his hand, and he gently swung her side to side. 'You still have to clean out your wardrobe.'
'Pout.'
She required away the wardrobe doors, picked through the clothes, saving the black-shirts-with-white-writing, and requiring everything else off into the void. Seldom-used duffle bags disappeared, as did shoes long since past their used-by date.
Then, with a few more requirements...the apartment was no longer hers.
She let out a long breath. 'Goodbye,' she said under her breath.
'It's not like you'll never come here again,' Curt said as they returned to the living room and sat on the new couch.
'Until the Agency, this was the only place I'd ever felt at home.'
'Personal question if I can?' he said as he required an energy drink.
'Shoot.'
'How'd you even get this place? You don't work, you don't have a steady income, I can't imagine that's too attractive on a rental application.'
'You have no idea. When I came back over the last time, I lived in a hotel for weeks - playing the rich girl, room service, getting the front desk to do my every whim, then going out every day and looking at dirt-cheap shitbox apartments, trying to find anywhere that would take me.'
'No luck?'
'None, and hotel living is expensive, so it wasn't something I could sustain. I could have gotten into like, student housing, but I couldn't stand the thought of being around people like that. I just wanted this,' she said, with a gesture, 'four walls that were mine and a door I could close and lock the world away.'
'So how?'
'After the second week, I started carrying around a five thousand dollars in bearer bonds. It was a bribe. It worked outstandingly badly. Do you know how many people don't know what bearer bonds look like? Or believe that some teenage girl has cash like that to burn while trying to rent a place that has piss stains on the walls?'
'Yeah, I can imagine.'
'I found this place by accident. I was looking at a place up the road. Saw a tiny sign in the window to the lobby, knocked on the door, and got to see it straight away.'
'The bribe worked?'
'Gods bless him, Mr Jenkins is one of the few people I spoke with who actually knew what a bearer bond looked like. He just asked what my situation was, accepted that it was weird, but that I wasn't some sort of crazy person, er, some sort of dangerous crazy person, took the money as an advance on my rent, and I moved in the next day.'
'I never had to do the rent thing,' Curt said as he drained the energy drink. 'My dad owns a few pieces of property, so he let me and my ex stay in one. Big townhouse, she always complained that it was too big to clean, even though I was never there to make any of the mess. He just took the pittance he asked in rent out of my pay check.'
'You gave me the impression you didn't get along with your dad, but you worked for him?'
'I needed a job, and he paid me so long as I showed up, even I didn't do anything. I let him think he could buy love back.'
'Didn't work?'
'No. Nothing he-' Ryan and Carol appeared in across the room from them, and he shut his mouth.
'Welcome to your new place,' she said as she stood. 'You can use his mad requiring skillz to make it you like, my casa is..now your casa.'
'Thank you.'
She looked up at Ryan. 'Twenty minutes, okies?'
She grabbed Curt's arm, and shifted them both back to her office. 'You want to go grab your stuff and I'll meet you in the conference room?'
'What I've got prepared anyway, I didn't prep much this afternoon, so I hope it's enough.'
'I'll take the blame if we get any flack for it. Unless it's Taylor, then you can has alllll the flack he can give.'
'Thanks newbie,' he said with a glare. He turned and left, and she grabbed everything from her meeting inbox, shoved it under her arm, and headed to the conference room.
She took her usual seat - halfway down on the left side of the table. No one else was there yet - Jonesy was usually the first, but on the occasions he wasn't there first, he was generally last.
Jonesy was the only one who had a chance of beating her there - after being late to a couple of meetings, and the disappointed dad!face Ryan had given her, she had made it a priority not to be late, so always arrived about half an hour early. Disappointed dad!face had evolved into proud dad!face, and it guaranteed she did at least one right thing every week.
Taylor and Magnolia always walked in with about a minute to spare, unless Magnolia had a lot of paperwork, in which case they walk in with as much as two minutes to spare.
Agent Greg and his Academy Aide June - for the few meetings they'd been around usually got in with five minutes to spare.
Ryan was an unknown quotient, sometimes late, sometimes early, sometimes he would arrive with her, then leave to do something, and come back when Clarke arrived. Curt was another variable - sometimes he came in with her, sometimes not - this time, he was early.
He slid into the chair beside her, and pushed a sheaf of paper across at her. 'Here, have a look at this for me, then check over last week's minutes and see if there's anything we have to comment on.'
'The hob situation,' she reminded him.
'No, Ryan's dealing with that. Anything else?'
'Possibility of sourcing some recruits from the Academy, we're lower than optimal, we're lower than low-but-ok.'
'Yeah, got that in here somewhere.'
The others began to filter in - all but Jones.
'Ok, since we're waiting on Jonesy,' Clarke said, a lit cigarette appearing in his hand, 'how's everyone's week been? Taylor? Getting laid regularly dislodged anything yet?' Taylor growled, and Clarke leered at Magnolia. 'Keep up the work, Mags.'
'Give me that one,' Curt said, pointing to a report just out of his reach.
'Would you two get a room,' Clarke said as they shuffled more paperwork back and forth. He turned to Ryan. 'And boss, you actually look happy, what's new with you?'
'We did,' she said, her mouth working faster than her brain.
Clarke looked back to her. 'What?'
Curt, to his credit, said nothing.
'Got a room. We did. So, um, yeah.'
Silence fell over the room for a moment, before Clarke filled it. 'Sleeping with a Solstice is a real good way to prove your loyalty.' He exhaled a long stream of smoke. 'It's gonna look great on your next evaluation.'
/serious
'That's enough, Clarke.'
/serious
'But if you're open for business, then there's a couple of high profile targets I'd like to turn, people who would love a chance to-'
She wanted her chair to eat her. She wanted the world to spontaneously combust.
Magic earth-swallowing power go!
'Clarke!' Ryan's voice was a rumble of thunder.
'You don't get maternity leave, you know. You don't get to be a chick if he breaks your heart, no sobbing while watching soaps. All you get to be is an agent, Mimsy, so I hope for your sake it's just fucking.'
Jones shifted in, a laptop in his hands. 'If we haven't started, you should-' The tech looked from Ryan, to Clarke, then closed his laptop. 'Ok, levitating cats can wait until later. Anything I should know?' He asked as he slid into a seat across from Greg.
Levitating kitteh would be really good right about now.
Clarke aimed a cigarette. 'Not much, those two are-'
'If we could just start, Clarke?' Ryan said, the cold edge still in his voice.
[I can has linky?] she sent to Jones.
[After the meeting.] Jones sent back. [You and Curt, OTP?]
Really, really, magic-earth-swallowing power, go!
[I'd prefer not to air my dirty, er, sheets.]
[Of course. Anytime you want to talk, you know where I am.]
[Thanks.]
'All right, we're all here,' Clarke said, 'we can start now. Everyone's read through the minutes of the last meeting-'
The meeting went for two and a half hours, most of which was uninteresting. Reports, reports, recruit complaints, notices of transfers in and out - the usual stuff that came up at the weekly meetings.
Clarke shifted away as soon as he declared the meeting over. Ryan shifted away a moment later. Taylor stood, ran a hand over Magnolia's arm, then walked out of the room, Greg following him. The three aides moved to the far end of the conference table to begin their own mini-meeting.
Jones shifted across the table and opened up his laptop. 'If it wasn't being played for laughs, I'd take this down, because I'm pretty sure this kitteh is being held up by fae magic.'
'I'm guessing invisible-whatever memes aren't so big on the fairy internets?'
'Not really,' he said as he hit play.
* * *
Curt slid into his chair as Magnolia took the seat at the foot of the table, she always did - she claimed it as her right for having seniority among the Aides. His argument that he was the Director's Aide fell on deaf ears - not that he cared, she kept the meetings mercifully short.
'Really, O'Connor?' Mags asked him as he shuffled his papers.
'June, you ready?' he called to Agent Greg's Aide.
She held up a phone. 'Can I make a quick call?'
'Go ahead,' Mags said with a smile. She turned back to him. 'Really, O'Connor?'
'You're acting like you care, Mags. You want to start the Brisbane chapter of the "I'm sleeping with an agent" club?'
She rolled her eyes. 'Your application would be rejected due to the technicality that she's not really an agent.' She opened her work book, and clipped in the meeting notes. 'Usually, banging an agent is something you can brag about, somehow, this is a step down for you, and you weren't getting anything other than your right hand.'
He gave his hand a quick kiss. 'And we've been very happy together.' He leaned across toward her. 'I'd always accept a pity fuck,' he said.
'Bed. Made. Fuck. It's not my problem.'
He looked down at his papers for a moment, a long-unasked question dancing on the tip of his tongue. 'Why'd you never fuck me, Mags?' She flashed an angry look at him, and he held up his hands to calm her. 'I didn't mean anything by it, just, you went through half the Agency at least, techs included, and you never even looked at me. It kinda hurts the ego.'
She gave a shrug. 'You're just not my type. It's not personal, well, it is, but not in the way you think.' She looked up at Stef as she laughed at something playing on Jones' laptop. 'What do you see in her, I mean, really. Half the agent fetishists I know wouldn't even touch her.'
'What do you see in Taylor?'
'Everything.'
'Careful Mags, people will start to think you have feelings.'
She kicked him in the shin. 'Don't push it, O'Connor.'
June sat down. 'Sorry, so where were we?'
* * *
The windows of Stef's apartment were open, the curtains drawn back, soft music coming out of the radio. So little time, and it already felt like a different place.
Carol sat on the couch, wrapped up in a soft blue blanket.
He laid his jacket over the back of the couch, and sat beside her. She reached out for his hand, and held it in silence for a few long moments.
'I didn't recognise any of the music,' she said with a look to the radio. 'So I had to put it on the classics. Everything is- Twenty years?'
'It will get easier, I promise.'
She shrugged off the blanket and stood. She knelt in front of him, and removed his shoes and socks, his vest, his tie - the same thing she had done every night before everything had gone wrong. Her ritual, stripping away the agent, leaving the man.
She melted into his lap and nuzzled at his neck. 'So long as I have you,' she said, 'I'll be all right.' She kissed his jaw. 'And I think you should make love to me.'
Pain.
Pain.
Pain.
Stef opened her eyes.
Require: lights.
The lights in her office came up, and she threw a hand up against the cornea-burning brightness of the mellow fluorescent lighting.
Require: dimmer lights.
She cracked open one eye, and this time, the lights didn’t hurt. She brushed Alexandria’s hair with her fingers, the shifted her into the small, safe cabinet beneath her desk.
Require: coffee.
The standard white mug appeared in her hand, and she sipped at the black-with-thirteen-sugars wake-up-juice. Four cups of coffee later, she sat up properly and took an inventory.
It was early – four am, so late enough to start the day. Six hours sleep, more than enough, even when yielding to latently-human weaknesses. She was still shaking – from fear and pain, not from caffeine withdrawal, so the duration of the nightmare had been long enough. Two nights in a row – that should mean a night off. Should.
The pain in her left arm was new.
One more cup of coffee, and she felt brave enough to look. She pushed herself off the couch and required a full-length mirror. She turned to the side and required away her sleeve. There were bruises – a large patch on her upper arm, and a band around her forearm.
She required a bag of blue, tore off the end and lathered the bruises with the liquid, but they only faded a little. She dried her arm, then required her sleeve back and went to her desk.
Frankie booted with a thought, and she scanned through her Agency inbox in her HUD for new items as Frankie’s browser loaded with all of her favourite webcomics and new sites – almost none of which had updated with anything interesting in the last six hours.
She required her sixth cup of coffee and waved a hand in front of her face, transferring the Agency inbox to Frankie’s screen and began to click through the flagged items.
There were a half dozen uninteresting items of various system and database outages – none lasting more than a hour or so, and none that effected her, but she stayed on the mailing lists in case she got more involved in any of the tech department activities.
There was Clarke’s summary and minutes from the meeting – she poked the screen and required a physical copy of the minutes.
Two automated notices of recruit birthdays – both were combat recruits, and not ones she’d even be able to pick from a line-up without her staff roster, so she junked them. There was a half dozen updates from the lol!agents site, which she scanned through without taking much notice.
Finally, there were just the automated reminders for the submission reports. She kept this one, and turned to the not-so-big pile of paperwork on her desk.
She experimentally tried to lift her arm, and pain shot from shoulder to fingertip. She sighed, and required each of the files to covert into digital copies on Frankie’s screen.
Five am came and went as she worked on the first one. Six am, and her eighth cup of coffee celebrated finishing the next two.
An RSS ping at six-thirty signalled a short internet break and breakfast – four large cookies and some crispy bacon.
Eight-thirty brought Curt knocking on her door.
She required the door open, and he walked in, all bright and shiny as was normal. It had to be a fae power. People weren’t naturally bright and shiny before midday at the least. Definitely a fae power.
‘Morning newbie.’
‘Hiii,’ she mumbled as she drained remains of the eighth coffee.
He rounded her desk and pulled up a freshly-required chair. ‘You did sleep, right?’
‘Sure, can’t you tell?’
He tapped on each cup as he required it away. ‘With you, never.’
’I slept.’ She lifted her right hand and pointed to her screen. ‘I even did paperwork.’
He leaned across to look at Frankie. ‘That’s...the wiki page about Buffy.’
‘Guess how many clicks it took me to get here from Antarctica?"
‘Paperwork?’
She alt-tabbed and pointed to the report. ‘That’s the fourth one this morning.’
‘Not bad.’
‘What did I get wrong?’
‘Bring it back out on paper, and the other ones too.’
She required the completed reports and handed them to him, then shifted him, his chair and the paperwork to the other side of the desk. A red pen appeared in his hand and he began to flick through the report.
‘I always feel like I’m in primary school when you do this,’ she said as she required another plate of bacon. ‘Want some?’
He snagged one of the crispier pieces. ‘You’re learning, that’s the main thing.’
‘That’s what Ryan says. I just wish I could start enjoying it,’ she said, ’but it’s taking time.’
‘Not everyone takes to it like Mags did.’
‘You do ok with it.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s all paint-by-numbers, start here, finish here, it’s easy, it’s controlled. I like it, it’s never surprising, it’s,’ he paused for a moment, ‘it’s safe.’ He leaned forward and grabbed some more bacon. ‘And you’ve done this one right so far,’ he wiggled the red pen, ‘no points deducted yet.’
She looked out the window-wall to the morning city. ‘Um, what do we do about Ryan?’
‘I’d prefer not to stay in service as your sex canary, so for now, leave him be, he’ll show up when he wants.’
‘Okies, and there’s something else too.’
‘What?’ The pen in his hand changed to green for a moment, and he drew a smiley face on the cover of the report. He dropped the report and picked up the second.
‘I’ll need your help with this, and only if you-’
‘Newbie.’
‘Ok, so I’m trying to think about this more long term, yanno?’
‘Ok?’
‘Ok, realistically, how much free time does Ryan have?’
‘Not even as much as he’s entitled to.’
‘Which is going to make things difficult, yeah?’
‘Regular people with regular jobs can have difficult relationships, so yeah, it could stress things out.’
‘So he needs less work to do.’
‘Your logic is sound, newbie, but-’
She required her ID and dropped it on the desk in front of him. ‘He’s not the only field agent around.’
‘It’s a nice thought Stef, but-’
‘But it’s me and I’m useless? Yeah, I know that, consider this me trying to better myself. If he had time to actually focus on the director stuff, everyone would be better off. Clarke would stop stop whinging about how weaksauce our Agency is, and he’d have time for yanno. I don’t do enough around here, and I know that.’
Curt stared at her for a moment, then nodded. ‘We’ll talk to him about that, ma’am, but it’s a good idea.’
She threw bacon at him. ‘Stop ma’am’ing me, it’s weird.’
‘Yes ma’am.’
‘So, really, what do you think?’
‘For once, I can’t see a downside. No one comes to you for field stuff though, so you’ll have to take over his office while he’s not here.’
‘I’ll have to grab the pass code to his office, but that shouldn’t be a problem.’
A message window appeared in her HUD. [Good morning.]
‘Speak of the angel,’ she said. She pulled open the message window and toggled into video mode. He was happy, and she smiled back at him. [Hey, how’s it going?]
[Very well, we’ve just been trying to make some plans.]
[Same here,] she said, [meet up so we don’t cross-planinate over each other?]
He gave her a strange look, then nodded. [Come over, we’re having breakfast.]
[Yay, free food! Want me to bring Curt?]
[If he wants.]
[See you in a sec.] She broke the connection. ‘Want free food? Ryan’s making breakfast.’
‘What is it with you and free food? You can require anything you want, but you always take free samples when we’re out, even if it’s stuff you don’t like.’
‘Free tastes better.’
‘That’s not an explanation.’
‘Your face isn’t an explanation.’
He put down the second report. ’Only two mistakes on this one, not bad, newbie.’
‘Save the rest for when we get back.’ She leaned across the table and he obligingly held up his hand. She grabbed it and shifted them to what had been her apartment twelve hours ago. The gently wafting scent of roses told her it definitely wasn’t her apartment any more.
Carol sat on the couch, wrapped in a flower-printed satin gown, her long blonde hair long but tied back, still managing to look pretty. A thought refreshed her hair and her uniform, making them tidy, even if she couldn’t live up the bright and shiny up-and-atom-recruit that Curt radiated.
‘Good morning,’ Carol said with a smile.
‘Hiii,’ she said.
‘Morning,’ Curt said. ‘How are you adjusting?’
She turned and followed the scent of food to the kitchen. ‘Are you like, cooking, really cooking, not require cooking?’ she asked Ryan as she peeked into a pot and watched lumps of white roll around in the boiling water.
‘I am.’ He ruffled her hair. ‘How’d you sleep?’
She gave him a smile. ‘Just fine. Why are you cooking-cooking?’
‘Trying to pick up where we left off,’ he said, ‘and sometimes we’d prepare food, rather than requiring it.’ He stirred another pot. ‘Eggs Benedict.’
[Is everything ok? I mean-]
[Everything is fine,] he said as he pulled muffins from the toaster. [And I can’t thank you enough.]
[Being happy is enough,] she said, [I’m just glad I didn’t screw it up.]
[I’m happy.]
‘James never cooked,’ she said as he pulled the eggs from the stove and drained away the hot water. ‘I’ve never had dad-made breakfast before.’
‘I hope it lives up to your expectations.’
Eggs were placed onto muffins and sauce was ladled on top. ‘Grab those two, please.’
He lifted the other two plates and they carried them back to the living room. Curt had required another couch, and was answering Carol’s questions.
She handed Curt his plate, and flopped onto the new couch beside him.
For a few moments, they ate in comfortable silence, then responsibility ruined it. ‘I have to go see Jonesy in a couple of hours,’ she said, ‘he moved my check-up appointment, so if we’re going to work anything out...’
‘Of course,’ Ryan said. ‘We were talking about scheduling and timetables and such.’
‘Yeah, we also had an idea about that,’ she said, ’which may or may not screw up some of your plans.’
‘Oh?’
She squirmed for a moment the thought of more responsibility weighing her down, then sucked the hollandaise from her fingers. ‘I was thinking I could take over some – ok a lot some - of the field agent stuff, so you could focus on the director stuff, and have more free time.’
This seemed to confuse Carol, and she looked to Curt. ‘I thought you were his Aide?’
‘I am.’
She looked to Ryan. ‘Does she, um, does she not know yet?’
‘No.’
‘My fault, I should probably introduce myself better.’ She waved at Carol. ‘Stef Mimosa, Agent Stef Mimosa.’
‘You, you’re an-’
‘Agent. Yup.’
Carol looked to Ryan, who nodded. ‘Sorry,’ Carol said, ‘we didn’t have agents who looked like you when I was a recruit.’
She gave a shrug. ‘I’m special like that?’ She looked back to Ryan. ‘You be ok with that?’
‘We’ll have to-’
‘Just say yes and give me your pass code.’
Ryan looked at her for a moment, then relented and nodded. ‘We can give it a go, at the very least.’ A popup appeared in her HUD. ‘There’s the permissions to enter my office.’
‘Thanks. I won’t let you down.’
‘I know.’ He put his empty plate on the coffee table. ‘Mostly we’ve been discussing the situation here. For the moment, Carol will be staying here – I have to check and see if she’s still in the system for the random sweeps, if she’s not, things get a lot easier. Still, we’re going to have to look into glamours or something to alter her appearance.’
‘I was always jealous of how beautiful the fairy girls were,’ Carol said. ‘Especially the wings.’
[What about that extra bit I gave you, you could-]
[It’s best to try normal means first, I would prefer not to use more mirror magic if we can avoid it.]
She smiled. ‘Well, I’ve got a decent chunk of money in my bank account, I’m happy to help.’
‘Some of these treatments were-’ Carol began.
’I’m rich,’ she said flatly. ‘Rich enough anyway. You know Grigori?’
‘Agent Taylor’s lover?’
Toasted muffin lodged in her windpipe, and she flailed for air. Curt grabbed her by her vest, pulled her forward, and slapped her across the back. The lump of muffin landed on the carpet, and she blushed red as she required it away, and wiped her mouth on her sleeve.
‘Ok, repeat that?’
‘But I don’t want to make you choke again, love.’
‘Were you serious?’
Carol nodded.
‘But- But-’
Carol nodded.
‘My brain is ruined forever.’
‘You were saying?’ Carol prompted.
‘I don’t even know any more.’ She looked down at Curt’s crumb-covered plate. ‘You done?’ He gave a nod. She stood. ‘Me, him and my ruined brain are going to go teach me some new paperwork. Meet back at lunch, or dinner?’
‘Dinner,’ Ryan said, ’I’ll come check on you both in a couple of hours, but I’ll get what work done here that I can.’
Curt put down his plate. ‘Thanks for breakfast, sir.’
‘You’re welcome, Curt.’
Curt looked at her, and held up his hand, she grabbed it, and shifted them into Ryan’s office.
* * *
Ryan required himself an iced-tea and looked across at Carol. ’Can I get you anything else?’
‘Nothing, thank you,’ she said as she extended her legs and put them across his lap. ‘They’re a cute couple. Your Aide is a very serious young man though.’
‘He has reasons to be.’ He paused for a moment. ‘And they're not a couple.'
She gave a shrug. 'My mistake. Shall we do some more catch up?'
'Are you ready for more?'
She nodded. 'I want know everything I missed.'
* * * * *
‘Come in, Miss Mimosa, and take your top off.’
She glared into the darkened lab, saw Jonesy sitting in his high-backed-villain chair. ‘Do you have to say that every time?’
The lights came up and he smiled. ‘Yes, it makes me feel evil.’
She required away her clothes, walked across the lab half-naked and sat in the big chair. ‘Where’s Merlin?’
Jonesy jerked a thumb towards the desk. ‘He’s working on something under there.’
‘Hiiii,’ came a small voice from the darkness.
Jonesy turned back to his computers and began to boot up all of the scanning software and benchmarking programs.
‘I’m gonna disconnect you from the system now, okies?’
‘One sec.’ She tidied a few things in her HUD. ‘Okies, go ahead.’
There was a strange electronic whine as her HUD froze for a moment, then simply showed a small pop-up that read [Offline Mode].
She stared at the outline of Merlin. ‘Hey, Jonesy, can I ask you something?’
He didn’t answer for a moment, then spun on his chair to look at her, a serious look on his face, his fingers steepled in his lap. ‘Oh, it only took you a fortnight this time.’
‘Huh?’
‘What were you going to say?’
She swallowed and looked at Merlin again. ‘I just- I’m not the only one here with mirror in me, am I?’
‘– with mirror in me, am I?’
‘– with mirror in me, am I?’
‘– with mirror in me, am I?’
‘– with mirror in me, am I?’
‘– with mirror in me, am I?’
She looked at him, then up at the screens behind him. Her face stared at her a half dozen times over, asking the same question – sometimes she was in the chair, sometimes it was in a dirty, snack-covered, post-raid shirt, none of them were live footage.
‘What?’
‘Like I said, it only took you a fortnight this time.’
Shift: Canada.
Offline mode, genius.
‘And then you always try and run away.’
‘Seems like a good idea,’ she said as she tried to get out of the chair. Her legs wouldn’t move. Her feet wouldn’t respond. She punched at her thigh. ‘Ow.’
Move legs, move!
Merlin crawled out from under the desk, and leaned against Jones.
‘He has more mirror than you do,’ Jones said, ‘pieces from a dozen different worlds, and he’s had them almost all his life.’ Merlin lifted his hand and ran them through the air, snatches of light, images of birds, and sparkles trailing them like IRL particle effects. ‘That’s why he can use them, still, it’s disappointing that you can’t do anything without touching the mirror.’
She looked at her legs again, they still stayed frozen in place, unable to carry her away. ‘I won’t tell.’
‘I can’t take the chance, so I don’t.’
‘How have you kept it a secret?’
‘Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt.’
She grabbed the side of the chair and tried to push herself out, but her arms froze in place, just like her legs.
‘Stef, relax, please.’
‘How do you expect me to relax?’
Merlin leaned against her chair, his oversized goggles clunking against the side of her head. ‘It’s easier if you close your eyes.’
‘Jonesy-’
‘It’s not personal,’ he said. ‘It’s just what it is. The most anyone knows is that he’s a reader, and that’s the most I will let people know, it’s too dangerous otherwise. Do you know what they’d do to him if they knew?’
‘Take away all of his human rights to start with?’ she said, bitterness in her voice.
‘Oh Stef, do you really think that’s all we’ve done to you?’
She closed her eyes.
She heard herself screaming – not her real voice, a recorded version. She opened her eyes, and saw a sea of red on the screen behind his head. A sea of blood. Her blood. Her blood being spilled over and over.
‘What...what is that?’
‘Your beta testing,’ he said as he moved out of the way of the screens. She cringed as Taylor tore her head from her shoulders, and drop-kicked it across his gym. ‘And they would do worse to him if they knew. We knew what you were from the start, what was agent, what was human, what was mirror...and the majority of your mirror is subjugated, his isn’t, and we don’t know half of what he can do.’
Tears streamed down her face as every screen flicked to her body being skinned. She saw her skinless body blink – awake, she had been awake – and she sobbed.
The noise disappeared, and she opened her eyes as Jones wiped her eyes dry. ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Jones said, ‘it would have been wrong if they’d killed you, and I’m grateful for the changes you’ve made in Ryan, but you also make a wonderful guinea pig.’
She stared at him, unable to form a response to that.
He looked hurt. ‘You got your life, don’t begrudge me for this.’
'Is this why you could prep an argument to save me so quickly?'
'The funny thing is, no one else questions that, 680 pages in a couple of hours is a lot, even for me.'
She looked from wizard to tech agent and back again. ‘Jonesy-’
‘I’m impressed that you keep working it out, Stef. I think the mirrors might call to each other.’
‘Or I’m just smart.’
‘It really is easier if you close your eyes.’
‘Do I ever?’
‘No.’
‘Then consider me a creature of habit.’
Merlin blew against the side of her head and...bubbles floated in her vision, bubbles with images dancing, swirling in them - Jareth's crystals, the bubble Glinda travelled in, the-
One burst open on her nose, and she had a faint impression of suspicion. Memories, they were her memories, they were her thoughts, they were-
'Please don't do this.'
'It's better than the other option.'
Another breath against her head, another swath of memory-bubbles floating, bursting, spilling her thoughts and memories into the ether.
'Which is?'
'Finding a flaw with your experiment, or making you flawed, so they have no choice but to-'
'No,' she said, 'I don't want that.'
'Then close your eyes, just this once, please.'
'No.'
'I'm trying to be as nice as I can, please understand why I have to.'
'Can't you just trust me?'
'The way I survive, the way I keep my secrets secret is by not trusting anyone, and by seeming to be the cute, harmless tech agent.'
There was a loud "oops" by her ear and Merlin scrambled to gently grab a bubble. He held it in his hands and it crystalised into ice, and he pushed it against her forehead, and memories of her first day as a recruit flooded her mind.
'Almost done,' Merlin said. 'Just got to erase now, and build a new now.'
'Huh?'
She blinked.
'And that is why Zelda is-' Jonesy said. 'Hey, you ok?'
'I think my brain went AFK for a minute,' she said, 'sorry.'
'No problem,' he said as he started a scan, 'played Raz's modded version of Ocarina of Time yet?'
Curt felt Stef let go of his hand as Ryan’s office blurred into view. He required a fresh uniform, the few crumbs of breakfast disappearing. Three months, and she was still relying on tactile contact to reliably shift things other than herself. Shifting something away from herself she could do all right, but when it came to bringing people or objects with her...she still needed touch.
It was strange, considering how anti-touch she was when it came to almost everything else. Everything that wasn’t in an “exemption category”. He’d made one of her exemption categories, he’d slipped past the impregnable wall that she kept up, and stopped him from making another worst decision of his life.
Walk away from the Agency. It had seemed like a good idea. It had seemed like the only thing to do. Things were good, and he didn’t deserve things to be so good. Ryan-approved or not, Aide or not, everything still felt transitory, like it could be ripped away, like they could still cast him aside.
Leave. Avoid hurting them. Avoid getting hurt when they ditched him. It had made perfect sense. She’d held him. She’d let him cry. She’d shown him “perfect sense” made none at all. Decisions made from fear were so stupid in hindsight.
Home. Home had always been one of those four letter words that hadn’t really meant anything. It had meaning in the abstract, the raise-the-hand and define-for-teacher way, but never as something that had resonated and really felt real.
One decision of fear, one act of comfort, and he had a home. He had a place in the world.
He had his second chance.
He clapped his hands together. ‘Ok, let’s-’
‘Are you going to be bright and perky all day?’
‘And if I am?’
‘Defenestration, definitely defenestration.’
He smirked at her, then looked to the computer. ‘Could you start by making all the paperwork physical? Most everything should be here already, but he might have some stuff stored away as a digital copy.’
He ran through a mental checklist – there, for once, would definitely big a large chunk of files that would be stored digitally – there wasn’t enough paperwork here, especially not when the previous day was taken into account.
Paperwork had been done early the previous morning, before Ryan had gone down to the Marches, but the whole day and the afternoon had been a wash. Nothing had been done during the meeting, and he’d left right after for activities that had nothing to do with paperwork.
Stef crinkled her nose in concentration, and a lot more paperwork appeared. A half dozen stacks that nearly rose to his shoulders from the desk top appeared.
‘That’s more like it,’ he said.
‘This is...normal?’
‘Don’t forget he’s the Director, it’s just not Queen Street he has to look after. At least he doesn’t have to deal with most of the Outpost day-to-day stuff for most of them, so we don’t have to see their schedules and whatnot, except in the weird circumstances.’
‘Weird like what?’
‘Career changes mostly, sometimes Outpost agents get bored out of their minds if they’re looking after an area where the fae keep themselves in line. Some decide to switch cities with each other, some petition to become Academy instructors-’
‘Why is it everyone knows about the Academy but me?’
‘I don’t think it was intentional, newbie, it’s just one of those things that doesn’t come up unless it’s relevant, we had no Academy-trained recruits here, no one is taking remote courses. It’s kind of like...Hungary, it’s there, but unless it’s relevant, no one talks about it, doesn’t mean it’s being hidden from you.’
She gave him a shifty look, then relented. ‘Fine. It really, really makes me feel like a newbie though.’
‘You are a newbie, newbie.’
‘I’m trying.’
‘Hey, for someone who’s only been at this three months, you’re doing ok. You can’t learn everything all at once, and it’s stupid to try, that’s why only taking in the relevant stuff works, because you’re more likely to actually process it.’
‘It’s taking forever.’
‘It would take less time if you stopped going on tangents to try and figure out why-’
She held up a hand to stop him, and her eyes took on the vacant look Agents got when they were talking to someone through their HUD – or when she decided to space out and read “FUNNY THINGS ON THE INTERNETS ONEONEONEONEONEONE!!!!!!!” when things got too overwhelming. Things of the decidedly not-overwhelming category, he gave her the benefit of the doubt and assumed it was the first.
Nonetheless, he took a look at his watch and required a five-minute timer. Five minutes and it was either something she should shift away and deal with in person, or it was the internet.
He turned to the desk and began to sort the paperwork by type and order of priority.
A moment later, she poked him on the shoulder. A poke with her finger, thankfully, not with some long, sharp required stick. Another touch, another contact, another proof of his exemption status. It was nice. It was less painful than a stick.
‘Brb,’ she said, ‘Jonesy wants me now.’
‘Come back straight after, and we’ll tackle some of this.’
‘Fine.’ She gave him a wonky salute and shifted away.
He turned in a slow circle just to make sure she hadn’t shifted back into the office to give him a jump scare, or to randomly shout “NINJA!” before disappearing again, then began to organise the piles of paperwork.
He required a small table off to the side of the desk, and began to move all of the director paperwork there, leaving only the field agent work on the desk.
Ryan’s chair sat invitingly empty, but he ignored it.
Within twenty minutes, the paperwork had been split between the desks.
The chair still sat, empty, the leather cold and lonely without a suited suitor.
He turned, looking at every corner of the office, making sure that there were no hackers, wizards or ninjas hiding in non-existent shadows. He felt a smile tug at his lips as he rounded the desk.
With a small, silent apology, he sat in the chair.
He felt his body relax into the leather almost straight away. It was so comfortable. He closed his eyes, and drank in the softness of the seat – it was definitely a chair one could do paperwork in for long stretches of time. It was definitely next on his “to require” list.
His eyes opened at the thought. When he required a chair, that’s what he required, a chair. A standard office chair when he was doing paperwork, or at the small desk in his room, a normal couch when the situation called for it, a small stool if he had to sit in the tech department for any length of time.
They were all just...normal things. The normal level of comfort that he’d acclaimtised to over the course of his life. If they frayed or stained or broke, a thought replaced them, but otherwise, he made whatever he required work for him.
His bed was the one that had come with his room – and it always felt extravagent, like soemthing he never would have been able to afford if he’d stayed working at the fruit store, or taken some dead-end office job, or whatever he would have done if his life hadn’t gone the way it had.
The bed he let pass as an anomaly though – beds in swanky hotels were softer than usual, and that’s all his room was, a place to put his head. It wasn’t his space, it wasn’t his home. It hadn’t been his space, it hadn’t been his home. It was his space, it was his home. It was his home and it was time to show it. Time to actually make it look different to a standard recruit room, time to add some personal touches.
It hadn’t even taken a day, and everything was already changing.
He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, his chin resting on steepled fingers. The seat of power, the chair that commanded Brisbane and a dozen Outposts, and he was sitting in it.
He had thought chair large, scary, intimidating. That it was sized like that to make an impression, rather than for simple comfort.
‘Recruit O’Connor?’
He was already looking the agent in the face, so there could be doubt that he was paying attention to every word, but he strained to stand a little straighter. If he tensed any tenser, something would snap, and he’d probably make a mess over the agent’s carpet.
The agent wasn’t scowling like the ones in Adelaide did. The agent wasn’t looking at him like he was something had scraped from his shoe. The agent – Agent Ryan – if anything, looked disappointed in him. Probably expecting someone better, someone not so-
‘Yes sir?’
‘I don’t have time to show you around, and I haven’t had any volunteers from my recruits. They aren’t comfortable with you. You have to understand that.’
‘Of course I do, sir,’ he said.
Fresh start. It was supposed to be a fresh start. It was supposed to be a second chance. It wasn’t. It was the same shit in a different Agency.
‘They know you’re Solstice,’ Agent Ryan said, ‘but no one here has been briefed on the details of your role with them, nor can those details be accessed by anyone with recruit clearance.’
His eyes widened a little, and felt gratitude push a small smile onto his face – the first real smile he’d had in months. ‘Thank you, sir.’
‘It will be your choice if you reveal the details or not.’
He wouldn’t. There was no reason to. Slide in, let the past slip away, obfuscate his past, pretend he was just another red shirt.
‘Do you have a schedule for me, sir?’
‘Take a walk, have a look around the Agency, customise your room, then come back in a couple of hours, I’ll have some time for you then.’
‘Any areas I should stay away from, sir?’
‘The combat floors.’ The agent paused for a moment. ‘But that’s not just you, Agent Taylor doesn’t allow recruits of other divisions there.’
‘Yes sir.’
‘Dismissed.’
He gave the agent a nod and turned to the door.
‘Recruit?’
He turned back. ‘Yes sir?’
‘I’ll expect a lot more from you than the other recruits.’
‘Yes sir.’
He spun on the chair, turning to face the window wall. ‘Captains’ log,’ he muttered, ‘I am continuing this...strange...new...mission. I’ve just had a-’ He shut his mouth at the sound of a knock.
He stood and straightened his uniform. ‘Come in.’
The door opened, and he kept his professional expression up as Brian walked in the door.
‘Where’s Agent Ryan?’
He looked left, then right, then left again. ‘Not here,’ he said pointedly. ‘What did you need?’
‘To book some leave.’
He looked at the other recruit’s empty hands. ‘Where’s your paperwork?’
‘What do you mean? He does it.’
He scratched his ear, and felt a crack in his professional mask. ‘Actually, no, recruits fill in the majority of it, then it goes to their agent for approval or rejection.’
‘That’s not the way we’ve done it all these years.’ Brian paused for a moment. ‘But I don’t expect you to know that, O’Connor, you even entitled to leave yet?’
He kept careful track of Brian’s words, amazed at how often the recruit managed to convey the phrase “you filthy Solstice fuck” with only his tone.
‘My downtime doesn’t concern you, but you’re going to need to do the paperwork-’
‘I’ll wait for Agent Ryan to come back. You don’t get to change things, just because-’
‘I’m an Aide,’ he said, ‘my job is to make his easier. He’s far too busy to deal with the petty shit of giving you a week off, and I’m doing the scheduling, so he’ll ask me if we can spare you.’
‘Three.’
‘What?’
‘Three weeks,’ Brian said, ‘I need three weeks off.’
‘That’s a big ask,’ he said, ‘when?’
‘Starting the end of the month.’
‘Why?’
‘My parents won lotto and they’re taking the whole family on a cruise.’
He required the leave paperwork. ‘I’m not sure if that’ll get approved, but fill this in and bring it back.’
Brian grabbed the forms and sat on the leather couch.
‘I said-’
‘I’m not bothering you, am I, O’Connor?’ Brian said as he began to fill in the forms.
‘Actually-’
‘So you’re fucking Mimosa, what’s that like?’
He closed his mouth, leaned against the desk and let himself slip into the same cold bastard mode he had used when “questioning” fae. ‘Fill that out somewhere else.’
Brian shook his head. ‘You start doing an agent-’
‘I wasn’t asking,’ he snapped.
Brian looked up. ‘You can’t intimidate me.’
He bit back on arguing the point. They hated him enough thinking he was just some nobody, without knowing how much blood had drenched his hands. The lie had held for more than a year, there was no reason to reveal it now.
‘I don’t kiss and tell,’ he said, ‘that’s all.’
Brian stood and shoved the paperwork at him. ‘I guess I’m grateful,’ he said, ‘I figured her for a dyke. Tell her that when she wants a real man, I’ll step up.’
A hundred lies flew through his head, wordy descriptions of testicular tortion, bruises in uncomfortable places, and teeth. He looked at the ground, playing the part of the meek, defeated foe. Escalation now would do nothing, would lead to nothing but problems. Appearing as the weak bitch-boy though, that couldn’t lower their opinion of him any further.
‘That’s what I thought,’ Brian said, then walked out the door.
He required the door locked, sighed heavily, and went back to sorting the piles of paperwork, throwing Brian’s leave forms to the side, to be dealt with later, if and when he felt like it.
Piles sorted, he went back to the chair, but light thoughts of faux log entries wouldn’t come back. Maybe next time. If Stef insisted on doing Ryan’s work for more than one day, then there’d be plenty more times to play captain, to play agent. Between the two of them, there was the chance to make one decent agent.
[Newbie.]
[What?]
[Newbie.]
[What?]
[You’ve been up in the tech department for two hours.]
[I totally haven’t.]
[Your HUD has a clock, right?]
Stef looked up from her DS and focused on her HUD. [Jesus crap.]
[I’ll accept that apology now.]
[I am not apologising to you, padawan.]
She snapped her DS closed. ‘Sorry guys,’ she said as she waved to the techs, ‘be back later.’ She shifted down to Ryan’s office and gave Curt a sheepish smile. ‘Sorry.’
‘This was your idea,’ he said as he spun Ryan’s chair. ‘Sit.’
She sat in Ryan’s chair. ‘It took longer than expected, that’s all. And then I got distracted by video games.’
‘You always say that.’
‘Video games are always distracting.’
‘No, you always say that it takes you longer than you expected,’ he said, ‘you need to start managing your time better, especially if you’re going to do Ryan’s job. I mean, if it’s one thing he can do, he can manage his time. I mean...he hid your body for how long and no one noticed?’
‘Like a month or something.’
‘And he still got everything done as per normal, I don’t expect you to-’
‘Find a dead recruit and use their corpse to teach me scheduling?’
He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. ‘Sit, newbie.’
‘Yessir.’
She slid into the chair. ‘Ok, I got some stuff organised while you were gone, but I left most of it for you to do, you’re going to have to figure out how to make things work for you, otherwise it’s going to be even harder. Do you want to start with approving stuff, do you want to-?’
‘Approving stuff sounds easy.’
‘Not as much as you’d think.’
Her shoulders slumped. ‘Well, it doesn’t sound scary, and if I just rubber-stamp everything then-’
‘No, no, no,’ he shuffled through a foot-high stack of files. He pulled one out, and pulled up his chair beside her. ‘Actually sure, go ahead, approve everything, it’ll give me less to do.’
She pulled the file from his hand and opened it. It was a request from the combat division – the front page told her that, it also told her that it was an execution request.
‘This is what I think it is, isn’t it?’
He gave her a nod, and she flipped the page to look at the actual request. In short, clipped sentences that matched his hair was a request from Taylor to have her executed.
She stared at it for a moment. ‘Am I allowed to veto my own execution? Isn’t this a request to Ryan-the-director, not Ryan-the-field-agent?’
He pointed to a stack of paperwork on a small table he’d required. ‘That’s the office-of-the-director stuff I’ve found. And there’s a similar request in there, but it’s got Mags all over it, so that’s the official channel, but he still seems to have a real hate-on for you, so he sends it through to your direct superior.’
‘Christ, I thought this shit would-’ She picked up the stamp from the desk, stamped it very, very carefully in the “rejected” box, signed the box beside it, and accepted the digital verification in her HUD.
She closed the file, and a popup asked if she wished it to be automatically redirected, and she clicked yes. The file disappeared from the desk, and Curt handed her the next one.
This one was a much easier request – two recruits wanted to swap shifts for a fortnight due to personal commitments. Curt’s signature already sat in the scheduler’s approval box, so she rubber stamped it, signed it, and accepted the digital copy.
‘This is easy so far.’
‘You’ve only done two so far.’
She stared at the pile. ‘Yeah, but the pile is only little.’
‘That’s only the first pile,’ he said. ‘This is the medium priority stuff – he’s already done the high priority stuff for the day, there’s another medium pile, then three piles of low-priority and non-urgent stuff. He tends to leave the low-priority stuff go until the last moment.’
‘Well, then-’
There was a knock at the office door. A loud, angry knock. A knock that belonged to one person.
[Do I have to open the door?]
‘Why are you?’
[So he doesn’t hear me!]
Curt rose, and opened the door. Taylor, sweaty and blood clothes sticking to his body, fuming, a volcano ready to erupt. He pushed past Curt and slammed the file down on the desk. He glared, but didn’t say a word.
/serious
She nearly processed the shift to Canada.
He glared, balled his hands into fists and leaned on the desk, blood and sweat dripping onto Curt’s nice, neat piles of paperwork.
She wanted to squirm, she wanted to apologise, she wanted to pretend that he wasn’t there, ready to unhinge his jaw and eat her head. Her toes flexed and curled in her feet, moving at the same pace her heart would have, if it wasn’t a cold lump of dead planet.
She blinked, then rose out of Ryan’s chair, and for once, was eye-level with him.
‘And how can I help you, Agent Taylor?’ she said, her voice even, impassive, professional thanks to the /serious, despite the need to shift far, far away, or to at least behind someone taller and braver.
She prepped a short-range shift – just across the office, just in case he made a move.
His left eye twitched.
His jaw still in the not-head-eating position, she took in a small breath and decided to push her luck. ‘If you-’
His hands moved to grab her, but she activated the short range shift, and he grabbed air.
He spun to her, his fists still balled, the anger even more barely contained than it had been.
Maybe I should have let him hit me. That always calms him down.
No, Spyder.
But it’s sososososo much easier to be a coward.
He knows that too, so surprise him.
‘We’re busy,’ she said, adjusting her footing, in case he rushed her, ‘so...so,’ she felt her resolve cracking. ‘I’m not signing my own death warrant, and if Ryan wanted me dead, he’d damn well do it himself, and not as a favour to you,’ she said, her voice dropping to nearly a whisper.
‘You had no right to-’
‘My ID says “agent”, my name plate says “agent”, my blue says “agent”, an agent signed off on that request, and you have to accept that. You can’t deal with that, you wait until the same request get denied by Ryan when he gets to it.’
Taylor growled and turned towards to the door. She slammed the door closed with a thought, trapping the angry, angry agent in the room with them.
I didn’t just do that.
Yeah, you did, Spyder.
Taylor turned, and she fought an urge to throw herself at his feet, to let him kick her for whatever crimes he thought she had committed, to let him get his rage out, then disappear until the next time they inadvertently crossed paths.
‘You owe me,’ she said in a tiny voice.
He snorted in her general direction.
‘You owe me,’ she said again, louder this time. ‘I’m not going to threaten you, I’m not going to tell you that I’ll redact the wish, that I’ll let her drown in her own blood, because you’ll just shoot me in the face and kick me around for a bit. Threats don’t work on you.’
‘I’d tear-’
‘You don’t get to treat me like shit any more. It stops right this very fscking second. You owe me and this is what I get in return. I’m not asking for your respect, I’m not even asking for you to treat me with basic dignity because you don’t show anyone that, and I sure as hell am not asking you to like me or treat me like an equal or anything stupid. But this, this treating me like shit, it stops now.’
He stared at her for a solid thirty seconds. ‘You are shit,’ he said at last. ‘You mock everything duty is.’ He moved forward and stabbed a thick finger into her chest. ‘You should be dead!’ The finger stabbed at her chest again, and she backed up against the wall. ‘The most you deserve is the basement. You don’t deserve rank, you don’t deserve freedom and you don’t deserve respect.’
‘And what do you deserve, traitor?’ the word came out like a curse, like an expletive, and he actually moved back a fraction of an inch. ‘If one more person had voted against you-’ She swallowed. ‘You contravened your duty and the only you’re around to stomp and growl is because the majority lied to save your ass.’
He growled.
‘Me? The worst I have done is be late to a couple of meetings, Jonesy is late more than me and no one says anything! You, you’re a traitor, you would have done anything for Magnolia.’
He didn’t try to deny it.
‘Don’t get me wrong I would sunder heaven and earth for the people I love, but I’d sure as hell expect someone to try and stop me, or to punish me for it.’
He continued to stare.
‘You got away with it, you-’ she cut herself off, she’d pushed her luck far enough without insulting him. ‘You got away with it. You got your happy ending, but you’re fucking up the ever after.’
He twitched again.
She raised a hand, her throat constricting with fear, and pushed on his chest. ‘Get. Out.’
He shifted away, and she collapsed bonelessly to the floor.
Curt was at her side in a moment, the gun in his hand disappearing.
She stared at where the gun had been. ‘You were gonna shoot him?’
‘If I had to, if he’d done something stupid.’
‘Did I just do that?’
‘Yeah, Stef, you did.’
‘I. Am. So. Dead.’
He helped her to her feet, and pushed her by her shoulders back to Ryan’s chair. ‘He’s going to kill me.’
‘No he’s not.’
‘He’s going to play polo with my spine.’
‘Your head is too big.’
She slapped him lightly on the arm.
‘Everything you said is true, newbie,’ he said. ‘And he did back down.’
‘He’s gone to get something sharp.’
‘It’s Taylor, he would have already been carrying something sharp.’
‘He was. Three fae weapons on him. Probably knives.’
‘Did he stab you?’
‘With his finger.’ She grabbed the top of her shirt and peeked down at her chest. ‘Owie, bruises.’
‘He didn’t stab you, so you’re safe, at least as safe as you can be around here.’
‘Still feels like I did something really stupid.’
‘A break, newbie, give yourself one.’
‘If I was less worried that he was going to get that little nuclear bomb out of storage, I’d point out that I’m actually strong enough to break my own bones.’
He popped the next file in front of her. ‘Shall we continue?’
‘No, I just an earned an internet break. Like an all-day internet break. Like an-’
He put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Work first, Agent Mimosa, play later.’
‘But.’
He put a cookie on top of the file.
She snatched up the cookie, and opened the file. ‘Ok, maybe I can do a couple more.’
Taylor glared at the experiment, at the thing they had the audacity to call an agent. A tech recruit, he could have ignored her if she’d been a tech recruit. They wouldn’t be in this mess if Ryan had done his damn duty and assigned her to the right department.
He took a step closer, but she didn’t move.
Worse than Whitman. A hundred times worse than Whitman. Whitman didn’t have mirror. Whitman didn’t have a chance of ending the world if someone cracked open her chest and made a wish.
She had to die. She had to die. It was for the greater good. It was to keep everyone safe. It was to keep Magnolia safe. It was to keep him safe.
He grabbed her by the hair and bent her forward, her hands flailing as he forced her to face the floor. With a shove, she landed on the floor, thin limbs sprawled. He knelt beside her, one hand on the back of her neck, keeping her face pressed against the floor. His other hand grabbed at her uniform, pulling her shirt and vest up to expose her lower back.
She screamed, her head thrashing against his hand. He resisted the urge to crush it, like he had done so many time in her limit testing. It was so easy to collapse her skull, to watch the horror freeze on her face as bone caved under his hand, thoughts still sparking as he held her brains in his hands.
He placed his hand flat against the small of her back.
Snuff out one tiny life. Make everyone safe. It was so easy. So easy. So easy. No reason to hesitate.
Her screams were getting annoying.
He had no reason to hesitate.
He drove a finger through skin and muscle, and wrapped it around the vertebra that contained the toxin.
He closed his eyes and crushed it.
He let go of her, and stood. She flipped onto her back, eyes wide and staring as the toxin took effect. Her feet went first, melting into a boiling puddle of blue, bubbling on his gym floor.
She was crying.
It was supposed to be painless, but she was crying anyway. Her legs ballooned for a moment, then burst open, joining the bubbling mess. Her torso caved, leaving the heart exposed, burning, melting into a pile of dissipating silver.
She stared at him, still conscious, as her face melted away, and there was nothing left but a mess on the floor. The blue boiled itself away, and left nothing but a tacky stain on the floor.
‘Sir?’
He looked away from the floor. ‘What?’
Magnolia picked the discarded tablet computer up and stared at the screen. ‘Training sim?’
He grunted.
Her fingers moved across the screen and the stain on the floor disappeared.
‘I didn’t enjoy it.’
‘Want to run it again, sir?’
‘I didn’t enjoy it, Magnolia. There’s something wrong with me.’
‘Sir?’
He required the tablet away, took her in his arms and held her for a moment. Touch. Connection. Comfort. Still so new. Still so wonderful. Something he had to protect.
‘There’s something I have to do, Magnolia.’
‘Sir?’
‘But I want you first.’
‘Yes sir.’
* * * * *
Stef twirled the pen in her hand. ‘I need a favour.’
‘Stamp goes there, newbie.’
She gave him a withering look. ‘Thanks, I’d forgotten that in the last five minutes.’
He lifted his milkshake from between the shrinking piles of paperwork. ‘We only took lunch an hour ago, so you’re not due for an internet break yet.’
‘I wasn’t going to ask for one.’
The milkshake disappeared from his hand. ‘What’s up, newbie?’
She swung her feet for a moment, then turned her chair to face him. ‘I haven’t looked at certain files out of respect for Ryan, but now that-’ She paused for a moment. ‘But now I want to look at them. But I think it’s going to be bad, so could you look at them with me?’
‘What files?’
‘Well, mostly, the last day of Agent Whitman’s life.’
He was quiet for a moment, then nodded. ‘Yeah, Stef, I can do that.’
‘Now?’
‘If you want.’
‘We’ll use the training simulator in the gym,’ she said. ‘I swear, the minute I hit my six-month mark, my extra room is going to be a private holodeck.’
‘Yeah, you’ve been saying that since you found out you can have an add-on room.’
‘It’s not fair I have to wait six months!’
‘I’m still on probation and you’re arguing about not fair?’
‘You won’t be on probation forever, Aide O’Connor. Besides, I’m better at whinging than you, so I get to do it more often.’
‘To my infinite joy. Finish up this form and we’ll go.’
She stamped, signed and accepted the digital copy. ‘Done.’
He looked at the desk, and began to tap the remains of lunch, the empty wrappers and plates disappearing with a touch.
‘It’s so weird,’ she said as she held her last bite of burger in her hand, staring at it like Yorick’s skull.
‘Something in particular?’ he prompted after a moment.
‘I was raised in a house where money was no object. We had servants for fuck’s sake. Not just at grandfather’s house either, over here with just my parents. Kitchen staff, cleaners, a butler, James had a valet, my mother had all these girls who used to come and go doing her make-up and dressmaking and whatever else. No nanny though, they never sprung for a nanny, whatever needed doing with me just got shared among the household staff.’
‘I’m trying to imagine that.’
‘Don’t even try. Don’t think of all the cool butlers like Alfred and Niles and whatever, the reason those guys are cool is because they’re the exception. Not everyone gets a cool snarky butler or a cook that’s just like a grandmother. Most of the time you get what they really are, people employed to do a job. They’re not family, they’re not friends, they’re employees.’
‘And burgers made you think about the service industry?’
‘No. That’s the context. This is the sort of money I come from, I just want you to grok on to that. It was a hell of a culture shock to go from that to learning to love ramen because I was afraid of running out of money.’
He gave her a small smile.
‘Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I eat much anyway. Noodles and takeout. Cheap crap, so I didn’t really have to worry about cooking or whatever. But I got used to it really quickly, so that’s normal for me now. And it’s what I tend to require. Burgers. Fries. Honey chicken. Same sort of stuff I’ve been living on for years. I don’t require the hoity-toity dishes, I don’t require whatever the hell angry-TV-chef-of-the-week is pimping.’
‘So, for once, you’re like everyone else, congrats newbie.’
‘And that would be my really, really drawn out point.’ She wiggled her fingers. ‘Requiring is like having phenomenal cosmic powers, you can conjure pretty much anything you could ever want, but people don’t.’
‘Still not entirely sure what your point was.’
‘I dunno, it’s kind of comforting though to know people can stay the same even if something big changes.’
‘Yeah, and-’
‘She went crazy and killed people, and there’s nothing to say that I won’t do the same.’
‘Thanks.’
She looked up and blinked. ‘For what?’
‘For getting back to what’s actually bothering you.’
‘Sometimes it’s hard for me to face things head on, so I have to come at it from a weird angle.’
‘We going?’
She nodded, and shifted them to the door of the gym.
Every recruit stared at them as they entered the room. There was a big difference between an assumption due to circumstantial evidence, and the gossips spreading the announcement. He wondered who it had been – Taylor didn’t care, Magnolia associated with her fellow recruits less than he did, Ryan knew the truth, the techs didn’t share information across departmental borders, so it couldn’t have been Jones. Clarke, probably, disseminated directly, or through the Parkers. Secrets were hard to keep in an Agency. Their faces held curiosity to jealously and everything in between, but none of them said a word.
Brian caught his gaze and smirked.
He moved closer to Stef, like a protective boyfriend would, and glared back at Brian. Keeping up the image was fine by him, especially if it kept douchey closet agent fetishists away from her.
He turned and watched her enter her security code and open up an eyes-only secure directory. She scrolled through, and after a moment, a loading bar appeared and began to fill.
‘You need some help, Agent Mimosa?’ Brian asked as he strode across the gym – somehow managing to have lost his shirt in the last thirty seconds.
‘No thanks, recruit, we’re good,’ she said, the neutral tone of voice telling him she’d triggered /serious.
‘You really should get to-‘
The loading bar finished, and she turned to shake her head. ‘I’d say “maybe next time” but I don’t think it’s likely. You’re due to go on patrol in ten minutes anyway, so shouldn’t you be getting ready? Or at least finish dressing yourself?’
‘I only-‘
The door to the training simulator slid open and Stef pulled him inside, the whoosh of the doors blocking out Brian’s words.
‘I set it to skip to the end,’ Stef said, ‘I didn’t want to watch it in detail, just see the damage.’
‘Fair enough,’ he said.
One of the combat floor hallways lay in front of them. There were smears of blood on the wall, some of the lights were broken, and there were spent casings everywhere. It didn’t take long to find the first dead recruit, or the second, or the third.
‘Imagine what she could have done with a mirror.’
‘Not sure it would have made a difference,’ he said.
‘What do you mean?’
He pointed at the trail of bodies. ‘No thought went into this. All of these people were just in the way – there’s glancing blows, cuts that wouldn’t have been fatal if treatment had been available, or just big hits that kept them down. This wasn’t methodical, this wasn’t thinking violence, this was just reacting to things that got in the way.’
‘Then explain that,’ she said as they rounded the corner to the centrepiece of this slasher flick, ‘explain him.’
Taylor was held in place against the wall, arms pinned with knives like he was some sort of like, hyper-violent butterfly. Twenty years difference, and he still looked the same, except for the colour of his hair and the expression on his face. The Taylor that stalked the halls looking for weak prey wasn’t the hurt, beaten thing that hung crucified against the wall.
‘He must of kept getting in her way,’ he said, ‘the defensive wounds are incidental, the real damage came after she pinned him, and even then, there’s lots of damage that wouldn’t be there if she was thinking about what she was doing. Pinned, go for the throat, the heart, the major arteries, there’s no direction to this. She just kept cutting until something else distracted her.’
‘I could never do this. Even- Even if I was out of my mind, I wouldn’t do this.’ She sat on the ground, avoiding the biggest puddles of blood. ‘I’ve never hurt anyone when- I’ve never hurt anyone. I get locked in my own head, or I externalise by accident, I get so afraid that I can’t do anything, or so paranoid I come up with realistic reasons to hurt my furniture. I’ve done all that, but I’ve never hurt anyone. Hurt myself a couple of times, on accident, or on purpose, but never other people. Never. I’m not the danger Taylor thinks I am.’
He sat beside her, and she leaned against his shoulder. ‘I know, newbie, I know.’
‘I can’t even beat you up, what chance do I have of pulling off mass destruction?’
‘Is she why you’re powered down?’
‘Big, big resounding yes to that. I did finally get an auto-pilot off button, which is going to come in handy. I would like to be able to throw the first punch though, instead of having to provoke people into hitting me.’
‘At least you’ve still got plenty of ways to provoke me,’ he said.
‘You’re a huge target,’ she said, ‘fanboy.’
‘I’m not-‘
‘Jonesy never found anything wrong. He looked through every bit of code and he couldn’t find anything wrong. No reason why there’d be this massive lack of control or why she’d default to kill everything, especially because it wasn’t combat agent code she got boosted with. She just got boosted with cut and paste sections of default field agent code.’
‘Is that what you have too?’
‘Mostly,’ she said, ‘but Jonesy also did a lot of custom coding for me. I wasn’t time sensitive like her transfer was, so he had more time to play, and he had to make allowances for the mirror as well.’
She stood and stared at Taylor’s corpse. ‘It’s weird he used to be a blonde, he used to match Grigori.’ She slapped herself. ‘And now I’ve got bad head images again. Why, why, why did she have to tell me that? I’m not going to be able to look at either of them again without thinking about, er-’ she held up her hands, pressed her palms together and thumped the heels of her hands against one another.
‘That is not what sex looks like.’
‘I don’t care!’
‘You ready to head out?’
‘Is he ever going to look at me and not see this?’
‘I don’t know newbie.’
‘It’s not fair.’ She kicked the wall and then jumped around. ‘Ow, that actually hurt! Stupid wall.’ She kicked it again. ‘Ok, ow again.’
He pulled her away from the wall. ‘You didn’t complain about getting hurt when you were kicking that troll the other day.’
‘I like to focus on the small things.’
‘I don’t understand that.’
‘You want to know why?’ she said, her voice raising a notch and turning serious. She grabbed his hand, backed up against the nearest wall, and pushed it up under her shirt, leaving it rest over her heart. ‘This is why.’
He tried to pull his hand away.
‘You want to know why I whinge about the tiny things? Why I sweat the small stuff? It’s this. This is why I’ll dance around for two whole minutes after I get a papercut, even though that’s one hundred and eighteen seconds longer than it takes to heal. It’s why I let the papercuts bother me, but not the fights that leave me in shreds and swimming in Jonesy’s tank for an hour while he tries to figure out where my guts go.’
She pressed her hand on his for a moment, then lets hers slip away. He kept his hand over her heart, feeling the odd coolness under the skin.
‘If I stop and let all of this catch up with me, I’m afraid of what it’ll do. I mean, my logic aside, what if it’s inevitable that I do the same thing? Sometimes I think that maybe the only reason I haven’t gone on a rampage is because I was crazy already and that’s like, like it’s my protective bubble, that it’s rock-paper-scissors and my crazy’s just better.’ She looked left and right, then leaned her head forward and rested it against his shoulder. ‘This is why I don’t think about it, because as soon as I think about one aspect, I have to think about it all.’
‘Hey, it’s ok.’
He wrapped his spare arm around her shoulders, and held her close.
The floor hit him in the face.
He moaned in pain as he rolled and slammed against the wall. He lay dazed for a moment, imagining cartoon birds circling his head. He gave himself a moment to ensure everything had stopped spinning before standing.
‘No touchie, got it, but-’
Taylor held Stef by the neck, her feet kicking the air.
Require: gun.
He clutched his hand reflexively, but only grabbed air.
Require: gun.
‘Let her go,’ he said as he pulled his gun from his holster. ‘Agent Taylor-’
The agent turned his gaze on him. ‘Leave.’
He leveled his gun at the agent. ‘Let her go.’
‘Don’t raise a-’
‘-a weapon against you unless I intend to use it. I’ve heard your speech Taylor, do you know often you say that? I have the intent.’
‘You’re dead, recruit.’
‘Yeah, but I’ll take you out first. After I put on the suit, I didn’t think I’d go out killing agents, but given the circumstances, I’m ok with it.’
‘Told you to leave.’
‘Not happening.’
‘You can’t hurt me.’
‘You put up blackout conditions. You made yourself vulnerable.’
‘Don’t threaten-’
He pulled the trigger.
The shot was loud in the confined space, but Taylor’s arm buckled and he let go of Stef. She stumbled back against the wall, gasping. She turned to run to him, but Taylor’s other arm blocked her path. She retreated a couple of steps, but the agent didn’t grab her again. Taylor’s injured arm hung at his side, blood dripping off his fingers, mixing with the simulated blood on the floor.
‘I’m scared,’ she said.
‘You should be!’ Taylor roared.
‘Not of you. Of her. You’re the fscking Terminator and you’re so scared of her that you think I’m a threat. Look at me, do I look like a threat?!’
‘You are-’
‘Do I look like a threat?!’ she said, her voice louder and louder with each word.
‘Mi-’
‘In the time I’ve been here, what have I done to do you? Other than exist? Nothing. Save your girlfriend. I’m not her, and I’m scared of becoming her. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead, simple as that.’
Taylor growled, then raised his hand.
He pulled the trigger.
The combat agent’s knee exploded, and fell out from under him, for a moment, looking like he was proposing to Stef.
He took three quick steps forward, grabbed her hand, and pulled her out of Taylor’s reach. She stumbled and nearly fell over her own feet, but caught hold of his coat and leaned against him for support, for safety, for protection. He was going to keep her safe, he was going to protect her, he was going to-
Taylor pushed himself to his feet, coming up with both hands balled into fists.
Taylor reached toward his jacket, toward one of the probable hundred weapons he had about his person. A warning shot to the floor in front of his feet froze the combat agent’s hand. ‘I wouldn’t,’ he said, ‘if I were you, I really wouldn’t. You have to realise, I’m adept at keeping people alive to suffer.’
‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ Stef said. ‘I’m not going to stop him from hurting you, but I don’t want to do what she did to you!’
Stef stood straighter and took a little step forward. He moved to the side, to keep his aim on Taylor.
‘You weren’t the only one she hurt,’ she said. ‘What about all the recruits she killed? Do you think I’d want to kill techs? She had a go at Ryan too, I’d kill myself before I hurt him.’
He growled.
‘You want to hate me because I’m weak? Go ahead. Because you don’t recognise me as an agent? Go ahead. Because you think I should be working for Jonesy, or because I haven’t proved myself, any of that, go ahead, because that is all me. Hate me for me, go ahead, it’s mutual.’
He felt a smile creep onto his lips.
‘I’m going to kill you, Mimosa, it’s the-’
‘What then?’ she said, interrupting the agent’s threat.
‘What?’
‘What happens then? Presuming, you know, that you’re willing to take Curt out as well, and that he doesn’t get you first, what then? You can’t just hide the fact that you killed us both. Training sim blackout conditions only cover requiring, shifting and healing, all the surveillance still works, so that means you’ve got to take out the tech department as well. Doing that, you’re going to make a bit of noise, so the combat recruits will come up, and you’ll have to kill all them as well. And then anyone else who gets in your way. And then the Enforcers who come and try to deal with you. And anyone who gets in your way on your way to your escape, presumably to fairyland. And then you’ll spend the next however many years spending all your time looking over your shoulder for any black-listed fae they hire to take you out.’
She let out a long breath and Taylor just stared.
‘That tired me just thinking about, are you willing to do all that, just to deal with me?’
Taylor continued to stare.
‘Toss me into a blackout, rip out my heart, trip my off-switch or recite the shatter sequence, you’ve got four ways to kill me.’
Damnit newbie, don’t give him ideas.
‘Can’t you just wait,’ she said, ‘until I fuck up and deserve it?’
‘I could kill you.’
‘I could end the world. I’m not going to.’
Taylor stayed silent.
‘Truce, please?’ Stef said. ‘Can you just drop this? Just-‘
‘Fine.’
‘Fine?’
‘Are you arguing with me, Mimosa?’
‘N-n-no, sir.’
Taylor stood still for a few minutes, then shifted away.
Require: blue.
A small silver sachet with a sticker identifying it as Stef’s blue appeared in his empty hand. He holstered his gun, and walked across to her, avoiding the puddles of Taylor’s blood.
‘You ok?’
‘That was strangely anticlimactic.’
‘You really think he’s going to back off?’
She gave a shrug. ‘I can only hope. Otherwise, you can shoot him again.’
‘I would like to try and avoid that if possible, I’m trying to have a clean record here.’
‘Can I give you points for this?’
‘For the last time, newbie there’s no points system, you don’t get recruit XP or anything else. Now, let me look at you.’ He crooked a finger and slid it under her chin, slowly tilting her face up. It was a gentle motion, romantic in any other circumstance, the prelude to a kiss, not usually rewarded with a view of bruises.
‘You got off easier than he did,’ he said, took his finger away and ripped open the small packet of blue. ‘Stand still.’ He coated his fingers in the semi-solid blue and began to smear it across the red marks across her throat. The red marks disappeared and the blue soaked into her skin.
‘Are there any leftovers?’ she asked as he took his hand away.
He looked down at the small packet, sighed, then handed it over. She gave a small squee, tore the packet down the seams, then dug in the corners for any leftover blue, scooping it up with her finger, and sucking it off.
‘There’s nothing normal about this.’
‘It’s better than letting it go to waste.’
‘It’s required, it’s not going to waste. How can you even eat that anyway, it’s-‘
She waggled a blue-covered finger in front of his face. ‘Don’t say it’s gross till you’ve tried it.’
‘How is it different to drinking your own blood or lymph fluids?’
‘But it’s nommable magic…’
‘It’s gross.’
She pressed her finger to his lips. ‘Just try it.’
He shook his head.
‘Try it!’
He pushed her hand away and licked the residue she’d left on his lips. ‘It doesn’t taste like anything, really.’
She shrugged. ‘I know, but I keep eating it in case one day it tastes like electric blueberries.’
‘What.’
‘It’s what I thought it would taste like the first time I saw it. Makes sense, don’t you think?’
‘None whatsoever.’
She grinned at him. ‘Yeah, but what fun would life be if it made sense?’
Ryan had expected the aftermath of a paperwork hurricane. He had expected his office asunder, piles of paper, good intentions and ink in all four corners, attempting to be tamed by an undertrained Aide and his little girl. The office was clean, in the same condition as he’d left it – or better, judging by the faint lemony smell of freshly-run cleaning sub-routines and the shine of a polished desk.
Stef and Curt sat on the couch, Stef fidgeting with the game in her hand, Curt proud but full of trepidation – standard for the first few days after he took on new Aide duties – the knowledge that he’d done well, but the fear that he hadn’t done well enough.
‘There’s a few things in the Director’s in tray that came in during the last half hour, sir,’ Curt said, ‘we knew you were coming back soon, so we didn’t shoot them across, and there’s nothing marked as urgent.’
‘I’ll get to them in a moment. Is there anything else I should know?’
Curt shook his head, and poked Stef in the side.
‘I’m letting you do the talking, I’m about to break my record,’ she said.
Curt sighed, then stood. ‘If I’m excused, sir?’
‘Of course, Curt.’ He gave the young man a warm smile. ‘And thank you for the work you’ve done today. It can’t have been easy.’
‘Most of the forms-‘
‘I didn’t mean the paperwork.’
‘Oi…’
Curt failed to hide a smirk, then left the office.
He laid his jacket across the corner of the desk, then joined Stef on the couch. She looked up from her game long enough to give him a sheepish look. ‘I’m really seriously almost done.’
‘It’s all right.’
He required the contents of his in-tray into his hands and began to sort through the low priority requests to the director. There was nothing that couldn’t wait, so he digitized them, each form disappearing from his hand as a message appeared in his HUD.
‘And…and…and…wait, crap, and done!’ Stef said, punched the air, and let the machine disappear from her hands.
‘Did you get the top score?’
‘Yeah, but I totally fscked it up. Doesn’t matter, I’ll try again tomorrow.’
‘Did you have any plans for this evening?’
Stef shook her hands. ‘Trying to get some feeling back into my fingers? I felt like I actually did a hard day’s work today.’
‘What was that like?’
She shrugged. ‘New experience if anything else. ‘ She spun her chair in a circle and waited for it to come to a slow stop. ‘Felt like I actually earned my place here for once.’
‘You-’
‘Don’t. For once look at me like my boss and not my dad. I have been dragging my feet way too much, and I did good today.’ She smiled. ‘I actually did good.’
Dad. Still an unfamiliar word to hear. Still so wonderful to hear. He smiled. ‘You really did, the both of you did very well.’
‘Not as great as we could have though. According to Curt we only cleared the backlog, there’ll be just as much to do tomorrow, but give us a few days and we’ll start to get ahead. If you want us to keep doing this, I mean, I dunno if-‘
‘You did fine, and if you want to keep doing it, I won’t stop you.’
‘I want to,’ she said with a smile.
He held out a hand. ‘Come on, you haven’t been outside all day.’
‘But the sun burns us precious…’
He walked around her desk, spun her chair and aimed her at the windows, and the evening outside. ‘I didn’t plan on shifting you far enough to catch up with the sun.’ He paused. ‘You should do that one day though, chase the sunset, it’s something all agents should do at least once, it will give you a view of the world not a lot get to see.’
‘Sounds pretty, but...’
‘But what?’
‘Ok, so sometimes I get the urge to shift to Canada, or to some random country to do some really physical comedy, like shift to France, grab a beret and come back, or whatever.’
‘And your question is?’
‘Do I have to ask permission to shift into another Agency’s territory? Or check in with them or something? Everywhere I’ve shifted, it’s either been under our jurisdiction, or I’ve been going there to meet with another agent.’
‘For recreational purposes, no, not unless you’re going to be there for an extended period of time, say a week or more – it’s just common courtesy to let them know you’re around. If you’re just passing through, no, it would just create more work for nothing. Shall we?’
She gave a nod, and a shrug, and he shifted them across to Southbank.
‘Neither of us are scheduled for a patrol,’ she said.
‘We weren’t, but we need a chance to talk, and it’s comforting to take a patrol every so often. And Wednesday is statistically the quietest day for this area.’
She slapped him lightly in the arm. ‘You do know that now you’ve said that we’ll probably run into some sort of massively rare anomaly or fae that really likes to eat agents, or something end of the worldy will happen or-‘
‘Or there’ll be ice cream?’ he said, indicating to their left.
‘-or there’ll be ice cream,’ she said with a pout, before bounding up the counter, starting her order before the clerk had a chance to blink. [Are you sure that I can’t convince you to like ice cream?]
[If you invent a kind that doesn’t melt and doesn’t drip, then perhaps.]
[Can’t you just require it that way?]
[I’m sure you could, but I’ve never tried.]
She accepted the cone from the clerk, and he handed across a freshly required twenty-dollar note. He slipped the change into his pocket and pulled up the patrol route – a circuit through Southbank and the Cultural Centre, then to several close drop points to look for messages, and to generally be a presence in the area.
‘Let’s start down along the broad walk, you can always throw yourself in the river if you get too messy.’
‘Can’t go for a swim, trashmaids will eat me.’
‘Trashmaids don’t eat people.’ He paused. ‘Trashmaids don’t eat the living. They’re probably the most harmless creatures you’ll ever encounter.’
‘They’re freaking zombie mermaids,’ she said, ‘I’m allowed to be a bit freaked out.’
‘So stay on the surface then, and you’ll never have to see them.’
She jumped up onto one of the low concrete blocks that formed the safety barrier , and peered down at the river. ‘How many of them are there? I mean, there can’t be that many, otherwise they’d get dredged up all the time.’ She stepped onto the next block, to keep up with him.
‘They do get dredged up from time to time, just like other fae are caught on camera, or get medical tests for regular jobs and accidentally give themselves away. These things just happen, and we deal with them as best as we can, it’s our job.’
‘And it helps that people don’t believe in fairies.’
He nodded. ‘We’d be in a lot more trouble if there were more animal attacks, people are more likely to investigate a report of a strange-looking dog than they are of a fairy.’
‘I don’t think I’ve seen one weird fae-animal report, and that’s the sort of low-level stuff you push in my direction.’
‘That’s how rare they are. I don’t think there’s even been a dragon sighted outside of fairyland in the last six months, let alone-‘ He stopped at the sound of ice cream hitting the concrete block. He bent and picked up the ice cream, requiring it away with a thought.
‘I- I never thought to ask.’
He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the few ice cream drips from her suit. ‘I’m rather surprised you haven’t.’
‘You could have said something!’
He put his handkerchief away. ‘I could have, but I didn’t want to disappoint you.’
‘You just said-‘ she lowered her voice as a few people walked past. ‘You just said the d-word, right?’
‘I did. But it’s not what you’re thinking. Dragons are-‘ He stepped up onto the block beside her and pushed a video link at her. ‘They’re like crocodiles, I suppose is the best way of putting it, they’re large, they’re dangerous, but they’re just animals. They aren’t magical, they don’t talk and they don’t fly. Some have vestigial wings, but they serve little purpose.’
‘Bummer.’
‘That’s why I didn’t say anything.’ He stepped down from the concrete block. ‘Do you want to go back for more ice cream?’
‘Nah.’
They walked in silence for a few moments – she continued to walk along the blocks, stepping from one to the next to keep pace with him.
‘Nothing has changed, you know.’
‘I think a lot has,’ she said, turning her face toward the river. ‘And it would be stupid to pretend otherwise.’
‘All right,’ he said, ‘a lot has changed, and things are going to be different, schedules are going to change, I won’t be in my office as much – especially if you two want to continue like you did today – but the important things haven’t changed. I’m still here for you, and we’re not going anywhere until I’m sure that you believe that.’
She turned to him, fear obvious on her face. ‘But you’ve- You’ve got her now. And that’s going to take up a lot of your time, and I already feel guilty that you’re here with me now instead of with her. You deserve to be happy and-‘
He lifted her down, and held her. ‘I was perfectly capable of spending time with Eilise and Alexander, and I think I’ve only gotten better with my time management skills.’
‘But you got your reset button. Everything is back like it was, and I don’t want to screw that up.’
‘Things aren’t like they were,’ he said, ‘time has passed, circumstances are different, and that’s all right, that’s life.’
‘But I’m not going to come crying in the middle of the night if-‘
‘Please do.’
‘But-‘
‘I insist. I’m your father, it’s my job to look after you.’
She ground her foot in a half-circle. ‘…James used to end that sentence with “punish you”.’
He gave her another hug. ‘I will always be here for you. Always, and whenever you need me, Stef, all right?’
She nodded, and lifted her arms to hug him back. ‘Ok.’
* * * * *
Two Days Later
[Offer still valid?]
Ryan opened his eyes, and focused on the text-only message in his HUD.
[Of course, where are you?]
[Follow your nose.]
He sat up, and smelt coffee. He looked down at Carol, at her soundly sleeping form, kissed the back of her neck, and quietly slipped out of the bed. He straightened his pyjama pants, lifted his light dressing gown from the hook behind the door, wrapped it around himself, and closed the bedroom door behind him,. He padded through the strange-but-familiar living room to the small kitchen. Stef sat on the bench, coffee on the bench beside her, drinking it through an implausibly long straw.
'What happened?'
'I want to say nothing, I want to say I'm bothering you for nothing, but I don't want to lie to you.'
He pulled the straw away. 'Stef.'
'Warning,' she said, trying to keep her voice light, 'incoming unexpectedly naked Stef.' She bowed her head for a moment, then required away the oversized black shirt.
'Oh, gods,' he whispered as he looked at her.
Bands of bruising ringed her torso and midsection - looking altogether too much like she had been picked up and squeezed by a giant hand. Splotches of large blueish-black bruises ran up and down both arms, and a long, thin bruise ran across her collarbone.
'This is the worst yet, yeah?' she asked.
He nodded. 'Has any of it gone away yet?'
She lifted a hand to her cheek, wincing as she did so. 'I had a black eye, that went away almost straight away.'
'What have you tried?'
'Shifting, refreshing and respawning, I don't really have enough range of movement to try blue, and I figured you didn't want me taking a dip in one of the dump tanks.'
He gave her a small smile. He required a small container of gel-consistency blue, dipped his fingers into it, and rubbed at the smallest of the bruises on her arm. She whimpered in pain, but the bruise faded a little.
He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. 'They look worse than usual, but this is working like it usually does. We'll do this, and they should be gone by morning.'
'I hope so, haven't we got stuff to do?'
'The start of this quarter's recruit evaluations, so it will be a lot to learn,' he said as he coated the rest of her arm with blue and began to rub each bruise.
'When do I get to have an Aide to do this stuff for me?'
He gave her a paternal look. 'When you're older. This will be good for you to learn.'
'Speaking of which. No. Um, nothing.'
'What?' he said as he put her arm down, required another container of blue, and began to work on her other arm.
'Nothing. It's stupid and I probably can't do it.'
'Which law of man, magic, or science are you trying to break now?'
'There was no reason that-'
'Stef.'
'Yessir.' She looked away for a moment. 'Well, it's just...ok, so you know how we have an Academy?'
'I am somewhat aware, yes,' he said with a smile.
'And you know how I never even read the recruit handbook.'
'I am aware.'
'But I'm going to - ow!'
'Sorry.'
'But I'm actually going to blame you for that one, you really should have given it to me.'
'Would you have read it?'
'No.' She sighed, and her face immediately screwed up in pain. 'Ok, ow. Anyway. I need to build a better mousetrap, be a better agent, whatever...you think I could take some classes at the Academy, even just the online components or whatever? Just something so I can be less of a derp?'
He opened up a file and sent it across. 'Here are your credentials for the self-paced courses, you can do those whenever you have time.' He sent another file. 'This is the schedule for all the ongoing online courses - these are usually for recruits that would like to become Aides later in their careers but have no wish to attend the Academy, or their Agency can't spare them full time.' He sent a third file. 'And this is the class schedule. You're an agent, you can sit in on whatever classes you like, observations are common enough, just contact the agent conducting the class beforehand as a courtesy.'
Her eyes shone. 'You organised this all already?'
'I've just been waiting for you to ask.'
'Until June showed up I didn't even know it existed!'
'There's no need to tackle everything at once. You've been doing just fine.'
'You're awesome, just thought I'd tell you that.'
He put down her arm. 'Lean back.'
'Be gentle with these ones, ok?'
'Of course.'
He picked the container of blue, made a requirement and it reshaped itself into a tube, and squeezed the blue onto the skin. She hissed as the cold gel touched her skin. He put two fingers to her stomach as lightly as he could, and began to spread the blue out over the bruises.
'What the hell could do that?' she asked. 'I mean, usually they're just- ow. Just bruises, but these ones have shape to them. It's weird. It's weirder than it already was, and this whole situation is already fscked up beyond belief.'
'I had something that looked like this once,' he said, spreading the gel across some of her scar tissue. 'It was during a fight with an octopus.'
She looked up at him, her curiousity outweighing her pain. 'You got into a fight with an octopus?'
He nodded.
'You got into a fight with an octopus?' she said again, a smile slowly spreading across her face.
'He kept a mostly human appearance,' he said, 'other than the arms. It was an...interesting experience to say the least.'
'What did- Ow. Ow. Why does this hurt so much?'
'I'm almost done.'
'Ow. Ow! Ow!'
'What the hell is going on?'
He straightened, and turned to see Carol standing on the threshold to the kitchen.
'Carol-'
She took two steps forward and slapped him across the face.
'Hey!' Stef shouted. He raised a hand to quiet her.
'What do-?' Carol began.
'Do you really trust me so little?' he asked, requiring a cloth to wipe the gel from his hands. 'After everything we've-'
'There is a naked girl in the kitchen,' Carol snapped.
'I'm wearing pants,' Stef argued quietly.
He stepped aside. 'Look at her,' he said, 'she's hurt.'
Carol's face was stony. 'Cry me a river. Does the Agency not have doctors anymore?'
'She can't go to them for this.'
'So her alternate is to strip down and-'
'Stop, Carol.'
'What are you doing with her?'
'She's my daughter.'
Carol went still for a moment. 'What?'
'You heard me.'
'You should have told me-'
'You haven't been making things easy,' he said, 'there's a lot for you to take in, and I've been trying to tell you everything slowly. I thought this could wait.'
'You shacked up with some whore and-'
'No.'
Carol's eyes narrowed. 'They made a require: baby command? Or did you use fairy fruit?'
'She's adopted, and you owe her your life. She's the one who brought you back, she's the reason you're free. So I would appreciate it if-'
'No.'
He set his jaw and turned away from her for a moment, finished spreading the gel across Stef's bruises, and required her shirt back. 'Will you be all right?'
[Will you?]
He put a hand to her face. [Of course. It’s just a fight.]
[Okies then.] She gave him a nod, and shifted away.
He wiped his hands again and moved out of the kitchen, his suit appearing as he passed Carol. 'I haven't had a chance to tell you everything,' he said as he sat on the couch. 'I wanted to give you a chance to adjust to your own life before I told you everything I've done.'
'She was naked in my kitchen, how could I not think-'
'-the worst of me?' he asked, not hiding the bitterness from his voice.
'I can't believe that you've spent all this time celibate.'
'I haven't,' he said. 'On the rarest of occasions, I spent the night with- With paid companionship. It never meant anything, sometimes I just needed not to be alone. You can fault me for that if you want, I won't blame you. I am a man, I am fallible, and I have never claimed to be otherwise.'
She sat on the far end of the couch. 'We knew this wasn't going to be easy.'
'I've been trying.'
'And I haven't.'
'You jumped to an erroneous conclusion-'
'I saw a naked girl,' she said, 'show me a woman who wouldn't have had similar thoughts.'
'You could have asked,' he said.
'You could have told me you took in a stray.'
'Don't say it like that.'
'I wouldn't have stripped down like that for my father,' she said, 'are you sure that-'
'Don't make something out of nothing, please.'
'This is not nothing. You're a different man than the one I knew.'
'I still love you.'
'You love her.'
'Of course I do. For- For the longest time, I was alone. I shut myself off from my recruits, I stopped talking to my friends, I lost myself in my duty, I was an agent, and that's all I was. Stef...Stef was the one bright spot that broke through all of that.' He smiled. 'Because I let her in, I stopped being just an agent. I'm a father, I'm a friend, I'm a mentor.'
'Where did the mirror come from? Why was it her, and not you I saw first?'
'The mirror is hers.'
'They rescinded the law about having it?'
'She's a special exception. She was killed during a mirrorfall, by the mirror itself, it's why she was converted to an agent. She's kept alive by it.'
'Why didn't you wish me back?'
'Fear,' he said after a long moment. 'I didn't know what would happen, I didn't trust myself to make the right wish, or that you would be all right, I didn't want to make things worse for you.'
'But you ordered her to do it?'
'She chose to bring you back, she made the wish of her own volition. I never would have asked it of her.'
'Why not?'
'Because I wouldn't trade her life for yours.’
Ryan flinched as Carol slapped him across the face.
‘We need to talk-' he started.
She hit him again, and again, and again. His cheeks stung as her hand turned red from the effort. He grabbed her hand as she curled it into a fist to hit him again.
She tried to yank her hand away. ‘Let me go!’
‘Are you going to keep hitting me?’
‘You’re an agent, you can take it.’
‘Just because I can doesn’t mean I have to.’ She swung her other hand, and he grabbed it as well. He stood, holding both of her wrists still. ‘Stop it.’
‘Let me go, you’re hurting me!’
‘I’m not. I’m restraining you, to stop you from hurting me.’
She kneed his groin and he released her hands. He shifted to the other side of the couch, to put it between them, to remove himself from her range. ‘I abhor violence, you know that. Stop it, please.’
‘You brought this on yourself.’
He placed his hands on the back of the couch and leaned heavily on them. ‘I should have told you-’
‘You ruined my life!’
He stepped back, and she walked toward him.
‘You ruined my life,’ she said again.
‘I know I wasn’t there to protect-‘
‘Do you want to know why you weren’t there?’ she said.
‘You were late,’ he said, ‘I was waiting for you. You said you didn’t need help-’
‘It was a patrol, I shouldn’t have needed help, but I was stalling because I didn’t want to see you.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I was going to break up with you.’
‘Carol-’
‘I can’t do this right now. Not tonight.’ She turned, walked into the bedroom and slammed the door.
He stared at the door for a minute, then shifted into the bedroom. ‘I’m not leaving that easily-’
She stared out the window. ‘I can’t handle this right now.’
One question burned in his mind. ‘Do you love me?’
She still didn’t look at him. ‘I don’t.’
He shifted away.
* * * * *
Someone hit his cage, sending it spinning. His body was cramped from fitting into the tiny enclosure, and his head hurt from it being pushed up against the bars. There was the sound of a creaking chain, and a rush of air against his face as the cage fell.
It hit the ground, hard, and knocked all the air from his lungs. Bruises bumped against metal, but he held back from saying anything, from swearing, from crying, from begging, he’d done enough already. Any sound he made either set the beasts on him more, or was ignored. Then again, that was the nature of torture.
The cage disappeared from around him, but he stayed in his curled up position, not wanting to take the liberty of stretching, of making himself more comfortable. Not wanting to make his naked body more of a target. At least this way they knew they were getting to him.
A strong hand grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked. This time, he couldn’t hold back a scream as the hair was torn free from his head. The suit attached to the arm grunted and grabbed him again, this time by the neck-
A hand on his shoulder.
‘Curt?’
He opened his eyes.
Suit.
A scream locked in his throat. They’d come back for him. Finally. They were going to-
‘Curt?’
A girl’s voice. Stef. He let out a long breath, and unclenched his fists.
‘Hauggf?’ he managed to say as he tried to focus on her.
She was kneeling beside the bed, chin resting on the mattress, scared, in pain. He pushed himself closer. ‘What’s wrong? What happened?’ A hundred images formed in his mind, trying to displace the dream, filling him with possible new horrors from the waking world.
‘I think I ruined their OTP.’
He ground a hand against his head. Stef-English, not something he could handle at- ‘What time is it?’ he looked around for the glowing numbers of his clock. ‘It’s two in the morning, Stef.’ He required a shirt, so there wasn’t the added panic of “ZOMGNAKED!!!ONEONE!!!” as there always was on the occasions she had to wake him.
‘I know.’
He let his head drop back onto the pillows. ‘What happened?’
‘Carol. She saw me naked and then they had a fight and-’
‘Nightmare bruising?
She gave her strange bobbled-headed nod.
‘Couples fight, it’s not the end of the world.’
‘But-’
He reached over the side of the bed, grabbed her upper arm and gave it a tug. She straightened and he gave her a smile. ‘Come here.’
She stood, and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘I fucked everything up.’
‘Lie down.’
She grabbed one of his pillows, and laid on it, body as straight, stiff and rigid as one in a coffin. She flopped her head from side to side. ‘I was just trying to do good, but-’
‘Take off your shoes.’
The shoes disappeared, her socks didn’t.
He grabbed the blanket, required it away, required a fresh on, and pulled it up over both of them. ‘I will listen to every paranoid little thought, and explain every bit of couple dynamics, and tell you people fight, but for the love of god, in the morning, please. I need sleep.’
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ll just-’
He moved closer, and laid an arm over her. ‘Just go to sleep. Everything will be ok, I promise. Stop worrying, close your eyes and go to sleep.’
‘But-’
‘Everything is ok.’
She moved awkwardly under his arm for a moment. ‘I’ve got a bruise there.’
‘Sorry.’ He tried to pull his arm away, but she held onto his hand.
At a nearly glacial pace, she turned under his arm and backed up against him, so that he was spooning her. ‘There,’ she said as she moved his arm. ‘Just keep it there.’
‘Ok, newbie. Good night.’
He closed his eyes, and sank back into sleep.
* * * * *
Ryan shifted, his mind filled with the image of a desert stretching out into infinity, and the open expanse of space above him. The world blurred, then became crisp again. He looked to his left, saw the nominated black stump, and walked off into the emptiness of the outback beyond.
Dust and dirt filled his shoes before a door appeared. He stepped onto the threshold of the Lost, kicked his shoes clean, and stepped into the clean, welcome lobby of the Lost.
‘You’re an agent, you know,’ the blank behind the desk said, ‘we do have easier entrances for your kind.’
‘I’m not here as an agent.’
The blank morphed, its plain body and garment becoming a suit to match his. ‘So that’ll be our cue then,’ the blank said in his voice, ‘use this door, you’re here as a man, use the regular door and you’re here on official business?’
He stared at the blank’s huge green eyes. ‘It’s you? You were the one here last time?’
The blank shrugged. ‘Not a lot of people want to pull desk duty, customer service and spreadsheets just happen to be my secret talents. This about the girl again?’
‘It is.’
‘Remind me,’ the blank said, ‘she had a captain, right? Nemo? No, it was a pirate. Long John Silver?’
‘Hook.’
The blank snapped its fingers and nodded. ‘That’s why I got confused, that guy does Nemo as well. And he’s a backup Santa sometimes.’ It went behind the desk and slid into its chair. ‘Just let me pull up the file, because I think-’
‘She declared herself Found, yes.’
The blank looked up. ‘Then why are you here, Agent? She’s your responsibility, we don’t have the resources to look after our people as it is, let alone those who are strong enough to even think they might be Found.’
‘I-’
The blank came out from behind the desk and motioned to a pair of comfortable-looking chairs. ‘It’s the middle of the night, I sincerely doubt I’m going to have any more customers to deal with before my shift ends, so why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you?’ It lifted the top of the small table between the two chairs and lifted a pitcher of water and a bowl of fairy fruit from the refrigerated compartment. ‘Hungry?’
He lifted a piece of the fruit, unable to say no to the sweet fruit, and the good feelings it always gave him, and began to peel it. ’It’s not that easy to explain.’
‘I’ve read the file, I had a chat with her Captain after she became Found, and I remember you saying something about mirror making a big mess of things, you want to start from the top?’
‘She was two-’ he began.
Twenty minutes later, he had spilled the high and low points of his life story, all the while being encouraged by his own voice. Carol. Stef. The mirror. The oubliette. All of it. Enough to have him dragged before an Enforcer and recycled. All of it so good to get off his chest.
The blank leaned across, brushed a hand against his cheek, and laid a soft kiss on his lips before retreating. He looked up at the suited blank as the tingle on his lips faded. ‘What was that for?’
‘You looked like you needed it, Agent. And I think you need to be reminded that you’re loved.’
‘I know that.’
The blank gave him a small, mocking smile. ‘You know that, but I don’t think you feel it. You’ve got a rough patch going on in you love life, sure, but everything else seems like it could add up to a fulfilling life and you’re too busy guilting yourself to enjoy it.’
‘I’m trying.’
‘You shouldn’t need to try, Agent, that’s your first problem. The girl who was Lost, we’ve been talking for all of ten minutes, and I wouldn’t do you a disservice by calling her anything other than your daughter. You’ve got my vote for father of the year, if agents are eligible, of course,’ the blank said with a wink. ‘You’re the reason she declared herself Found, and you’re doing a hell of a lot better than the parents who made her one of ours to begin with.’
‘I stole her life, I-’
‘Sounds like you saved her life, in every way it’s possible to save it.’
‘I’ve locked her into this life, unless I do something, she won’t have a choice but to stay an agent. She-’
‘She could have run, Agent, she didn’t. When things were a lot scarier, and a lot more dangerous, and she chose to stay with you, that’s got to say something to you.’
‘I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘I don’t want her to hate me, I don’t want her to resent this life, I don’t-’
‘Ask her if she does.’
‘I can’t do that!’
‘So you’d rather plan behind her back and make arrangements for her to be taken in by a Court?’
‘I’m afraid of what she’ll say. Carol...I think Carol hates me, I can’t lose Stef too.’
The blank kissed him again. ‘Stop being afraid. If everything you’ve told me is true, the only way you’re going to push her away is if you’re so afraid of losing her that you push her away. And that makes far more sense than you might think.’
‘I should go.’
‘You’re in worse shape than when you arrived, Agent.’
‘I have things to do.’
‘In the middle of the night? Like what?’
‘There’s always something that needs to be done. I left paperwork undone, I-’
The blank moved to sit on the table, the suit morphing again – not back to its normal, plain state, but into a shorter, more feminine suit. The pants became a tastefully short skirt, the coat disappeared altogether, the vest undulated as the blank’s chest expanded into a pair of breasts, and long, loose red curls spilled down its shoulders. The huge green eyes stayed, staring at him with the same compassion and pity they’d held since he’d walked in the door.
‘What are you-?’
The blank kissed him again, not a chaste kiss this time, and he heard himself gasp as it pulled away for a moment.
‘What are you-?’
‘We’re not going to get very far,’ the blank said, still using his voice, ‘if you keep asking the same question.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘No, you don’t,’ the blank said as it pushed away his jacket, ‘and that’s a real problem.’
He didn’t argue as the blank loosened his tie and pulled it away. The blank smiled and slid across onto his lap, its chest pushing against his.
‘You’re Lost.’
He pulled back a little. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Not in the same way Stef was, and not so that you would notice, but here,’ it said as it brushed a hand across his chest. ‘in your heart, that’s where you’re Lost, and that’s why you hurt.’ The blank smiled and continued to undress him. ‘You’re a problem applicant, Ryan, you’re one of us, but there’s not much we can do to help, you’re functionally Found. You don’t need an imaginary friend, you need a real one, or you need to realise you can rely on the ones you’ve got.’
‘It’s hard,’ he said, his voice a whisper.
The blank kissed his neck, then moved back from his lap, and pulled him down onto the thick, soft rug.
‘I don’t-’ he started to argue. ‘I don’t do this.’
‘I know,’ the blank said, ‘but a bit of spontaneity will do you good.’
The blank beneath him was soft, warm, and utterly uncomplicated. There was no life and death decisions, there was no guilt, there was nothing, except the pleasant, warm sensations of being intimate with another being. It laughed at him as he fumbled with its skirt.
‘What?’ he asked, pulling the skirt down past its knees.
‘You look so, so serious,’ the blank said, pulling itself close enough to kiss the creases in his forehead. ‘Stop being so serious, Agent.’
‘I didn’t mean-‘
‘It’s adorable, but you need to relax.’
‘I am relaxed,’ he insisted.
‘You. Are. Not,’ it said, mock-scolding. It pushed against his chest and he let himself fall back onto the rug, the soft fibres caressing his back as the blank stripped him of his pants. ‘I will make you relax. Now close your eyes, and enjoy this.’
He closed his eyes, he enjoyed it.
Ninety minutes of thoroughly enjoyable lovemaking later, they lay as a sprawl of tired limbs on the much abused rug. The blank laid its head on his head, its red hair tangled and dripping with sweat. He ran his hand through the curls, almost unconsciously as his mind drifted content, carefree, relaxed…happy.
He lifted his hand away for a moment to grab at his coat and pull it over them as a makeshift blanket, to shield them from the cold, and from anyone who might enter the lobby.
‘I didn’t know you were a virgin.’
He tapped open his recent memory in his HUD and replayed the sentence, just to make sure he had heard it right.’ I beg your pardon?’
‘No, you can’t have my pardon,’ the blank said, touching its tongue to his chest. ‘I already gave you too much tonight.’
‘I’m not sure if your Court has a different definition, or if-‘
‘I think you well and truly proved you’ve had sex before, Agent. Answer me this though, who have those other women been in bed with? The man? The agent? Their client? They’ve all been fucking aspects of you, not your whole. I just had sex with the whole of you, so I hope your first time was all right.’
‘I never- I never characterise myself as someone who has sex in public, but we-’
‘Like I told you, it’s pretty dead this time of night, it’s as private as it gets. And you’re avoiding the question.’
‘I feel good, and that’s rare for me.’ He sat up and shook his head. ‘I- We- I don’t generally do things like this.’
‘So you keep saying, Agent.’
‘I don’t mean it to sound like an excuse.’
‘You never even asked my name.’
He hung his head, shame filling him. The blank reached out and stroked his face. ‘It’s Vink, and it was nice getting to know you.’
He stood and began to get dressed. The blank smiled, stood, and pulled his tie from the pile of discarded clothes. ‘Mine,’ Vink said with a smile. ‘It’s the little bit of you I get to keep.’ The blank slipped it over its neck and cinched it loosely like a necklace.
The curls disappeared as the blank resumed its mannequin-like appearance, retaining only the large green eyes.
‘I think you were right,’ he said as he buttoned his shirt, ‘I think I am Lost.’
‘Just try to remember that sometimes,’ Vink said, ‘give yourself permission to be unsure, and you’ll be fine.’
* * * * *
The agent stood in front of him, a monster of inhuman proportions. A gatekeeper of hell. The stories, the rumours, the whispers, they all said that if an agent killed you, that you went to hell. Right now, he could believe it.
‘You aren’t leaving here alive,’ the agent said, growing even taller, so tall now that its hair brushed against the ceiling. It lifted a huge foot and stamped it down on him, holding him in place.
He beat his hands against the foot, hands covered in blood he just knew wasn’t his. He opened his left hand and saw a blue eye sitting there. It rolled to stare up at him, somehow crying without help from the socket and tear ducts it had been torn away from.
He felt himself shake from the nightmare, and consciousness began to seep into his mind.
He wasn’t alone.
There was a warm body pressed against his. Pleasant. Soft. Not the spectres from his nightmare. He adjusted his arms, one tingly and nearly numb beneath the slim body, the other lying across it, being gently lifted and up down by the simple act of breathing. Breathing. Living. Not dying in a cold room kicked to death by sadistic agents, not served up as dinner, not executed for his crimes. Breathing. Living. Spooning.
He smiled, and began to caress the chest beneath his hand. Teri, maybe, or Mirribel, both of them stayed until morning if you paid in advance. But he hadn’t-
‘I can assure you, those are not the droids you’re looking for.’
His hand froze. He sent out a tiny prayer that he was still dreaming. ‘Stef?’
‘Yup.’
He yanked his hand away at warp speed, sat up and scooted to the other side of the bed, his cheeks burning. ‘I am so, so, so-‘
‘Did you know it was me?’
‘Of course not! ‘ He hung his head, unwilling to look her in the eyes. ‘Gods, I am so sorry.’
‘I’m not going to crucify you for something you did while unconscious.’
He stared across at her. ‘Who are you and what did you do with Stef?’
‘This is me. This is me just trying not to have a disproportionate reaction to something innocent. And it’s not like there’s anything there to grope anyway, so you couldn’t have done any damage even if I hadn’t kept smacking your hand away.’
He considered her words, but something stuck out. ‘What do you mean “kept”? How long was I-’
‘Only for like the last ten minutes. You’re surprisingly persistent.’
‘You didn’t shift away.’
‘I wasn’t sure what the etiquette was, and I’m starting to think “shift away and ask later” is sort of rude, and I need to stop doing that. And it was warm and comfy, so I saw no need to move. Sorry?’
‘You sure you’re ok?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine.’
‘So long as you’re sure.’ He smirked at her. ‘I’m comfy?’
A tiny blush coloured her cheeks for a moment before it disappeared. ‘Different sort of comfy to Ryan.’
He looked down at his chest. ‘Sara did like falling asleep in my arms after I fed her.’
‘I am an agent you know, I’ve got the authority to be your escort any time you want to go visit, or just for a peek.’
‘I’ll keep it in mind.’
‘Is there a “but” somewhere in there?’
He stood and slapped his butt. ‘Well, there is, but it’s going over there, because I have to use the bathroom.’ He walked across the small main room, closed the bathroom door behind him, smiled at the freshly-cleaned bathroom, the mess of wet towels and used uniform he’d left from the previous night’s shower cleaned away by whatever bits of practical magic that kept the Agency sparkling.
He used the toilet, washed his hands, and opened the bathroom door.
Stef sat on top of a freshly-made bed in a fresh uniform.
‘No shoes on the bed,’ he said as he climbed back onto the bed.
‘They’re brand new, they’re cleaner than you.’
‘My bed, my rules. No shoes.’
She pulled her sneakers off and neatly pitched them into the kitchenette. ‘Happy?’
He wiped the sleep from his eyes, and required his own uniform to avoid her question. Happy. Still working on happy. ‘Can I assume,’ he said, ‘that you don’t want to head off to training this early?’
‘You are correct, sir!’ she said with an over-dramatic flourish.
‘Then you’re requiring breakfast, something light, because I am dragging your ass to the gym when I’m done assuaging your paranoia.’
Five plates of bacon appeared.
He sighed. ‘Wasn’t exactly what I was thinking, newbie.’
‘Eat your bacon, it’s man-food.’
‘Are you ever going to wear a training uniform?’ Curt asked as his formal uniform rippled and replaced with the blue BDUs of the training uniform.
‘Not unless it becomes my regular uniform,’ Stef said as they left his room, ‘I suck enough-’
The recruits milling in the hall turned to look at them as Curt closed his door, and her super-duper-agenty hearing picked up on all of the whispers, and theories as to how she was going to finish her sentence. Command of language left her, and she wondered what sort of requiring combination it would take to get the floor to swallow her whole.
Curt grabbed her hand, fingers threading through hers, and pulled her gently through the staring crowd.
The gym was already empty, and Curt slammed the big double-doors shut, and locked it by swiping his access card over the small control panel on the wall.
‘There are a lot worse things,’ he said as he moved to the weights rack, ‘than to be the subject of fetish and rumour.’
‘Yeah, but I don’t envisage the world going back to dial up, so this is pretty bad.’ She stared at the ground. ‘I’m not built to handle this kind of crap.’
He took a step back, then slowly circled her, giving her a critical eye. ‘Sure you are, ma’am. Agent software version 3.5, upgraded to 4.2, just like every other agent here. So you are in fact, built to deal with whatever’s thrown at you.’
‘Why don’t you be the agent, and I’ll be the bossy recruit?’
‘You want this, right? To be wearing the suit, to be conscious, to be alive?’
‘...yeah.’
‘Then actually act like it,’ he snapped. ‘I’ve got Aide clearance, and I’ve read your file, the parts that aren’t classified anyway, and they can pull the plug on your project at any point. If you aren’t doing your duty, if you aren’t showing willingness to go above and beyond, if you aren’t good enough, you...die. Or get recycled, or locked up in the basement.’
‘I know,’ she said, ‘you don’t need to remind me.’
‘So hit me.’
‘You always win when I throw the first punch.’
‘We might, with a decade, be able to get you to throw a decent punch on your own. If you want that, you have to practice throwing punches on your own, not using your autopilot.’
‘Weak hacker arms are weak hacker arms.’
‘I will get you to run laps if I have to. All day. With no internet breaks.’
She punched him in the chest, and he brought his arm around to hit her. As she saw this, the program kicked in, and she dodged. He required a gun and aimed it at her, which she quickly knocked out of his hand. A fast, flat palm to his chest knocked him back a few feet – just far enough to let him require another gun and fire it.
The shot hit her in the knee, and it collapsed from under her, two rounds to the chest finished her off, and she disappeared from the gym. A few boring seconds later, she respawned.
‘Gun play,’ she said, ‘that’s new.’
‘You’re an agent,’ he said, ‘people are going to shoot at you.’
‘My favourite Captain is Archer!’
He shot her again, and this time, she dodged.
‘Better,’ Curt said after a few minutes of successful dodges.
She took half a second to smile, and to force the about-to-fall feeling from her mind, as he jumped up and came at her again. He grabbed her arm and brought it around, trying to pin her, but a quick shift had her out of his grasp, and gave her the distance to put two dye rounds in his back.
‘Oh great,’ she said, ‘that time I didn’t even choose to shoot you.’
‘You still shot me,’ he said, ‘for whatever that’s worth.’
She required away her gun. ‘I am never going to get used to this.’
‘I had to get used to fighting for the system instead of against it. I had to get used to drinking with fairies instead of bottling them, and learning about magic all over again from people who didn’t hate it.’
‘If you really were my friend, you’d let me wallow in self-pity.’
‘You don’t know much about friends, do you?’
She shot him a withering look. ‘Duh.’
She required a thick gym mat and sat down. ‘I’ve been practicing on my own, you know. A little bit at least. I’m an agent. I don’t have to sleep that much and just sometimes I don’t feel like surfing the net, so I do my duty. Sometimes.’
‘You’re running sims by yourself?’
‘No, automations – trying to get used to this. It’s not helping. Part of the problem I have is I’m not a fighter, I wasn’t in fights before I got this nifty suit, so I’m practicing with physical actions that are actually familiar to me.’
‘And that is?’
‘Not for you to know.’
‘You’re kidding me.’
‘What? I’m allowed to have secrets. And an embarrassing past.’
He joined her on the mat. ‘Now you’ve got to tell me,’ he said as he required a bottle of water.
‘No.’
‘Newbie.’
She buried her face in her hands and told him.
‘I can’t hear you.’
She kept her face in her hands, but spread her fingers enough to let some sound out. ‘...ballet.’
‘Oh wow, you really were a little rich girl weren’t you?’
‘Dance, mainly ballet, riding lessons, language lessons, etiquette and decorum classes.’
He stared at her. ‘...I have no response to that.’
‘Probably the safest course of action.’ She required a can of soft drink, downed a few mouthfuls, then burped.
‘None of it stuck, did it?’
She glared at him, then required away his half of the mat, leaving him to sprawl on the floor. He curled an arm behind his neck. ‘Fine, but just so you know, this time isn’t being deducted from your training.’
She leaned closer. ‘Enterprise was the best thing to happen to the franchise since they killed off Tasha Yar.’
He grabbed her by the vest and dragged her off the mat, rolled her over him, then let her flop on the floor beside him. His gun appeared, and her control over her body disappeared, her leg swinging up to kick away the gun, before jumping up and placing a foot on his chest.
He knocked away her foot, jumped up and bounced back. ‘Your height always has you at a disadvantage. You sure you can’t get Jones to add six inches to you?’
‘Good morning.’
She turned, saw Ryan, and waved on impulse. He seemed…fine. He was smiling, not like the kind of person who had experienced the ruination of their OTP. She swallowed, and started to adjust the apology notes sitting in her HUD to compensate for just fucking things up, instead of ruining everything forever.
‘Stef, are you done here?’
‘Yeah.’
‘She’s only done ten minutes, sir,’ Curt said, ‘and most of that was insulting me.’
‘Nonetheless,’ he said, ‘I need you.’
‘There wasn’t anything scheduled sir,’ Curt said as he stood.
‘It’s just come up,’ Ryan said, ‘a Solstice informant wants to talk to us.’
‘Name?’
‘Bill Turner. He’s been informing for us for a few years now, about a thirty percent success rate.’
Curt nodded at this. ‘Then he’s probably for real,’ he said, ‘but still afraid of the Agency. He wants to give you scraps of truth because he’s starting to feel it’s the right thing, but the indoctrination is strong, and he still fears the suits.’
‘And your opinion, Aide O’Connor?’
Curt seemed to swell at the use of his title. ‘Trust his success rate,’ he said, ‘thirty percent of what he says, don’t go into a blackout zone with him and don’t use the good silver.’
‘You never use the good silver,’ she said, ‘only the second best, third best for the children, sometimes even the really cheap stuff, unless you like them, or want to impress their parents. You only use the best silver for royalty, potential royalty, or money better than yours, and then, claim it’s not the best, blame the help, and fire the closest serving girl if you sincerely need to make a point.’
Curt stared at her, then let out a low whistle. ‘Ok, wow.’
‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, ‘tangent.’
Ryan squeezed her shoulder, and the comfort banished thoughts of her old family. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘we’ve got work to do.’
She smiled. ‘Kay.’
He bent down to her level, and she felt her clothes ripple as her suit refreshed, then he straightened her tie. ‘No matter how many times I scan you, I can’t be convinced that your ability to get dirty isn’t some sort of fae power.’ He stood straight. ‘I just hope you’ll grow out of it.’
‘You can hope all you want,’ she said as they walked out of the gym.
[I’m not going to specifically introduce you,] he said as they passed a group of displaced recruits, [as either a recruit or an agent, only by name.]
[Ashamed of me?] she asked, before quickly calling up a text window to send [:P].
[More that it’s an advantage that we can use.] He opened the door to his office. [Just like we do with actual infiltration agents, just like we’re designed to do.] He sat. ‘Some Solstice automatically assume everyone is an agent, these people are difficult even within their own ranks, and it’s a symptom of a larger paranoia and largely makes them unsuitable for field work.’
‘Cause otherwise they’d just walk into the mall and start shooting everyone.’
‘...they have Stef, and not just here.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Most common is the kind of person who will believe everyone is human unless given reason – however flimsy – to believe otherwise. You’ve seen this. Did the question of whether you were an agent ever come up in Russia, or were you accepted as a recruit because of Curt’s say so?’
‘True.’
‘In your case, your height and appearance really do help.’
She pouted. ‘Everyone is calling me short today.’
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s ok, it’s true.’ She said as she joined him on the couch. ‘So why does he want to talk to us?’
‘He won’t say, usually he does letterbox drops. It’s a public place, a decent way from any of their territory...other than the Wintergarden, of course, so it doesn’t really mean anything. On the other hand, it could mean he’s ready to convert.’
‘I haven’t actually looked up the stats on this stuff, how often does it happen?’
‘Honestly? Not as often as we’d like. Some people get afraid and stop informing, some are plants...most are plants, some are killed. The majority of people who do turn are just sick of the life and want a way out. Most of the time it’s twenty minutes with the Parkers then a relocation and a pension. One less enemy is one less enemy, so it doesn’t really matter if we have to pay for their retirement.’ He shuffled the papers on his desk. ‘People like Curt are the truest minority, long term missions, blackout bombs set off in Agencies, lots of agents killed, we’ve had these things happen more often than we’ve had a turncoat become an Aide.’
‘That’s why it took something so extreme for you to trust him?’
‘Yes, precisely.’
‘Do you trust him now?’
Ryan stared at her for a moment. ‘I do. I still second-guess myself sometimes, but I do. ‘
‘I could have been Solstice, you didn’t have any reason to trust me.’
He smiled. ‘Bias was also a factor in your situation.’
‘If that’s the case,’ she said, ‘if you don’t like Solstice, why did you take him on? You’re in charge, why not send him to Ipswich or something?’
‘Because I knew I wouldn’t kill him.’
‘Huh?’
‘Traitorous actions are traitorous actions, but a lot of agents, when it comes to people like Curt, would take any opportunity to construe a relatively innocent action and use it as an excuse of execution.’
‘”Relatively innocent”?’
‘For example, Curt used to have a habit of walking into blackout zones. He didn’t have them all memorised.’ He stood. ‘Now, let’s go, we don’t want to be late.’
‘Not even fashionably so?’
‘Only when meetings are held here, where we know, barring any extreme mitigating circumstances, we control the situation.’
And the horizontal, and the vertical?
‘Where are we meeting him?’
‘Just down in the mall.’
‘Anything more specific, or are we just going to walk up and down the mall calling out “here Solstice, Solstice, Solstice, sooooooo-eeeee!”?’
‘The bottom level, in the food court there. He comes in by bus and leaves the same way - I think he believes it helps keep his dealings with us unnoticed. So far, if he’s being truthful, it’s working.’
‘...if we’re in the mall, can I go buy video games?’
He looked down at her. ‘Be truthful, how much of your paperwork is Curt doing?’
She stared at the ground. ‘Only like half.’
‘Not all of it?’
‘No, not all, I am learning!’
‘Then yes, after we’re done, you can go buy video games.’
‘How much of everything did I ruin forever?!’ the question poured out of her mouth before she had a chance to stop it. She slapped her hands over her mouth, and closed her eyes. [I’m sorry, but we’re acting like everything is normal, but it can’t be normal after what happened last night and I need to know-] Arms wrapped around her, and cut off her ramble. She opened her eyes. ‘I know I screwed up. I shouldn’t have come over last night, I’m sorry. Just tell me that-’
‘All you did was catalyse an argument that was due to happen. Things are…strained, and for reasons nothing to do with you.’
‘But I really didn’t help things.’
‘You did nothing wrong.’
‘Stop protecting me, I did bad, and I know it.’
‘You gave up so much to try and make me happy,’ he said, ‘I’ve got nothing but gratitude.’
‘Maybe I made the wish wrong, I should have-‘
‘Do you want to be an agent?’
She closed her mouth, then looked up at him. ‘You just did a me. That’s my thing, get your own thing.’
‘Stef.’
‘What does that have to do with anything?’
‘Everything, please, answer the question.’
She stared down at her knees. ’More than anything. I mean, now that being a recruit isn’t an option. I fit in here, at least enough. I’m still a massive screw up who doesn’t do all of her paperwork, or know everything about what an agent is, let alone what it means, but of course I do.’
‘Really?’
She clapped her hands to her chest. ‘Lookie, uniform. I don’t default to wearing this cause I’m lazy, I love it. It feels right.’
‘Would you leave if you could?’
She laughed at him. ‘And go where?’ she said. ‘And do what? This is my life, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything unless you told me to.’
Tears rolled down his cheeks.
‘Crap, what’d I do now? If you’re worried about getting stuck with me, I can-’
‘No,’ he said, cutting her off. ‘I don’t want you to leave.’ He wiped his eyes with his handkerchief. ‘It’s just-‘ he went quiet for a long moment ‘Carol. She resents that I trapped her into this life. That I-’
‘Consider me willingly cats-cradled into this life, for as long as you want me here.’
‘If you ever want to leave,’ he said, ‘I’ll help you, we’ll figure out some way-’
‘Not gonna happen. Now are we going to chat to the Solstice or what?’
He smiled. ‘Yes, let’s.’ He rose, and the world blurred after he snapped his fingers.
‘People really are stupid, aren’t they?’ she asked as she fell into step beside he after the world became clear .
‘I’ll reserve judgement until I know your context,’ he said as he put a hand out to stop her from walking into a wave of commuters fresh off a bus. ‘Or I may insult myself.’
She contrived to look hurt. ‘I’d never call you stupid. Other people though…we shift in and out of the mall, and people don’t really notice, if something twigs their weird-o-meter, they just ignore in place of believing reality is exactly like they think it is.’
‘You didn’t always know about magic, Stef.’
They picked an empty table in the small food court. ‘Yeah, but I always believed. Even if only a little. When’s he due?’
[He’s already here,] Ryan said, [the thin man at the back table with a tray full of chicken. He makes us sit for five minutes before he makes contact, just in case we were followed.]
[Take it from someone who knows, that sounds paranoid.]
[Sometimes it’s warranted.]
[And sometimes it means attacking your fridge with a baseball bat, or being afraid to pee because there might be a decapitated head in the toilet.] He gave her his nearly patented, concerned dad!face and she gave him a quick smile. [Doesn’t happen a lot,] she said, [most of the time, I remember to be sane. You don’t want to know what I thought about my room at the Agency when it was still technically my cell.]
The Solstice moved – apparently not bothering to wait for his five minute timer to expire, quickly getting up from the table and nearly upending his tray – he managed to catch everything, except the drink, which fell to the floor in a splash of wasted liquid. He ignored it, and sat across from them, his face tinged red with embarrassment. He smiled, then stopped himself, trying to frown, but this appeared to take too much effort, so he let his face go neutral. A Solstice /serious.
‘You I know,’ he said, ‘Ryan. Her, I don’t. Who?’
[ESL or nerves?] she asked, careful to keep her gaze on the Solstice.
[Nerves,] Ryan said, [his command of the language will come back in a few minutes after he realises we’re not going to shoot him.] ‘Stef Mimosa,’ he said out loud.
The Solstice swallowed. ‘I still get meal allowance, right?’
Ryan held up a hand, a folded twenty-dollar note appearing between two fingers. He handed it across, the Solstice grabbing it gingerly, careful to touch only the money, and not the agent.
The twenty was quickly pocketed. ‘It’s counterfeit, right?’
‘Mr Turner, if you’re going to insult us, then-’
‘No, I mean, the...serial numbers. They’re copies of existing notes, right? So technically counterfeit? No offense intended, just asking questions.’
[Questions are good,] he said, [the more questions asked is the more holes poked in the Solstice philosophy.]
[You mean fail-osophy.]
‘Any money that we require,’ he said, ‘has unique serial numbers.’
‘And the Treasury is fine with that?’
‘We’re the Agency.’ Ryan leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the table. ‘Draw your own conclusions.’
She turned to him, a grin on her face. [Wow, you can be really bad ass.] She quickly switched to text mode. [+10 to your awesome.]
‘Uh-huh,’ the Solstice said, clearly unconvinced. ‘So what do you tell them?’
‘Whatever mint we’re dealing with...it’s essentially processed the same as it would be for the federal police, or an intelligence agency.’
‘So that’s everywhere, then?’
‘Of course, Mr Turner, we’re everywhere.’
[Another +5]
The Solstice stared for a moment, then looked down to his tray of food, picked up a few chips and chewed on them.
‘You had information for us?’
The man nodded. ‘Yeah, this time it’s something big. And it’s real, I’ve verified it.’
‘Only one in three things you tell us is true,’ Ryan said, ‘forgive me if I don’t automatically trust the veracity of your claim.’
‘I get that, but I think I’m coming around. You’ve got to give me a break, I mean, you aren’t even human, that takes a while to get used to.’
‘That isn’t my problem,’ Ryan said, ‘what’s your information?’
‘The Solstice have a phoenix egg.’
Ryan laughed, then turned to her. ‘You can go do your shopping now, I trust you can get your own way home.’
[Um, lolwut?]
Ryan stood. ‘Consider this your last second chance. The next time you bring us false information-’
‘I’m not lying!’
Ryan turned to walk away, and the Solstice lunged across the table to grab his arm. ‘I’m. Not. Lying.’
Ryan shook the man’s arm away. ‘What you’re saying is impossible.’
‘Then I guess agents don’t know everything.’
Three things seemed to happen at once. A bloody hole appeared in the Solstice’s chest, there was an explosion somewhere ahead of her, and someone grabbed her from behind.
After shrieking like a girl, she threw her head forward and bit into the arm across her chest. Then she let her legs crumple, and she slid out from under her assailant’s arm. She was free, but stuck in vulnerable, and somewhat embarrassing position of being on her butt.
Ryan took two quick, neat steps that would have impressed Madame Cousteau, came up against the man who had grabbed her, and then there was the muffled sound of a shot.
Explosions not being a common occurrence, there was chaos. Shouts of confusion, swearing and attempts at calm from cops and rent-a-cops alike.
None of that was important though. The important message was flashing across her HUD. [Blackout zone: Type M].
Shitshitshitshitshitshit.
Ryan pulled her to her feet without really looking at her, moving towards their injured informant before remembering to let her go.
‘If I die,’ the Solstice said as he spat blood on the table, ‘you don’t get to know what I know.’
Ryan’s pressed a hand to the man’s chest, and turned to look back at her. ‘Blackout.’
‘I know.’
‘There’s too much interference, it’s significant.’
‘If it’s so heavy, means it can’t last too long, right?’
‘It means I don’t know.’
Ryan’s eyes were scanning, looking for shooters, dangers, being an agent. Being an agent, not a scared hacker suffering the urge to crawl into the nearest convenient hole and hide until the danger went away.
A scared hacker that-
Wait.
Yeah, what is it...There’s something...
‘Ryan!’
His attention snapped to her. ‘What?’
She yanked on his arm, pulling him closer to her height. ‘We aren’t being shot at,’ she hissed. ‘Two agents and a traitor, and we had one measly pot shot taken at us. That guy wouldn’t have grabbed me, he would have just shot me, and probably you first. This isn’t Solstice...I think.’
Ryan looked to the now, much paler, Solstice. ‘Who else knows about this?’
‘Blue. Earth,’ he wheezed.
‘...that makes sense. We still need to move.’
A hundred questions danced on her tongue. Who, what, how, where, when, why, if. All questions that couldn’t wait. All questions that could wait.
Think, think, think.
The mall. Familiar enough, not as much as the Valley. Food courts. Game stores. Department store where she did the majority of her clothes shopping. Buses.
Bus. Bus. Bus. Bus.
And you’re doing what?
Making bus noises to help me think?
...Spyder, just...sigh.
Got it!
She grabbed the Solstice. ‘Phone. Gimme!’
‘Pocket,’ the Solstice said.
She groped the pockets of his jacket, and found the phone – luckily free of blood and bullets. She unlocked it and quickly dialed for a cab.
‘Address?’
She gave them the details.
‘Stef?’ Ryan asked as she pocketed the phone.
‘There’s a hotel entrance. The cabs come down here. You always see it when you get the bus in. It’s really close. Can you carry him that far? We can just drive home, and it’s not an exit they should be guarding.’
‘Brilliant.’
Pride burned in her cheeks. ‘I’m a coward, and I’m paranoid, escape plans are second nature.’
He lifted the Solstice, looking as though it took barely an effort...but it was bad as it looked like it took effort at all – normally, something like lifting a full-grown man wouldn’t make him blink.
The area past the food court was bad – the scared and the injured that had only been on her periphery were now right there. Screaming. Wailing. Making all kinds of noise that made it too hard to concentrate or pretend to be a narc. The explosion had been fairly insignificant, after all – it had barely shaken their table, and hadn’t dislodged many of the roofing panels, but it was causing the mass panic of an explosion ten times its size.
What had been a photo booth was now a smoking ruin, the windows that looked out onto the buses were all blown out. Large chunks of the doors and walls were missing...definitely costly to replace. Unless of course, they paid for it.
It was slow-going – people were everywhere, getting in their way, trying to help, impeding their path in every possible way.
What usually took about a minute took nearly five – every second of which made her feel more and more like pounding a hole in concrete and making her own place to hide until the danger was past. The crush of people was maddening, and any of them could be a shooter, be a Solstice, or a...one of the anti-Solstice bad guys, or even just an opportunistic fae with a vendetta against the Agency.
If you devolve into “I’m not gonna make it, I’m not gonna make it”, I am going to seize control of your body and slap you.
...you can do that?
Do you want to see me try?
No, not really.
She pushed ahead a few steps – her easily mockable shortness a blessing for once, as it was far easier for her to slip through the crowd than it was for Ryan – especially with another man thrown over his shoulder.
Free of the crush of people for a moment, she pressed her face up to one of the unbroken windows, looked up towards the hotel entrance.
The cab was there, waiting for them, their orange getaway car with a meter.
This part of the bus stops was fairly quiet – there were a couple of open doors, presumably opened by those fleeing the blast. It was good – it meant one less piece of property damage that had to occur. That, and she wasn’t sure if she could bust through one of the heavy glass doors. Maybe if they were in a system area, and if it decided to attack her. That part would have been the simple part though – doors were easy enough to provoke.
They passed through the nearest open door, and past a bus whose radio was alive with a mess of emergency services chatter.
We’re gonna make it!
Knock on wood.
She rapped her knuckles against the side of her head.
Ryan was less than his usual impeccable self – more effort was showing on his face, and the Solstice’s blood was all over his clothes.
‘That’s our cab,’ she said as they crossed to it, feeling the need to say something, anything. ‘We’re ok.’
She moved ahead of him, and pulled the taxi door open. The driver began to protest, but she glared at him as Ryan placed their bleeding contact into the backseat as gently as was possible.
‘Hospital?’ the driver asked as they slammed the back doors closed, the dying Solstice between them, his breathing far from regular, his blood leaking out onto what had been a very clean cab.
‘Queen street,’ Ryan said.
‘You’re already there, mate.’
She kicked the back of the driver’s seat. ‘Drive, arsehole!’
The back windscreen shattered.
She froze as small pieces of glass covered her.
There was glass everywhere. She couldn’t feel her legs. There was blood everywhere. The seat belt had snapped tight, and she could feel the bruises forming. No. She couldn’t feel anything. Cold. So cold. There was nothing but-
Spyder, down!
There was a sharp tug and her head hit the driver’s seat.
Ryan let go of her tie. ‘Keep your head down.’
She blinked, saw her hands gripping her knees so tight her knuckles were white. She blinked again, taking stock. She wasn’t bleeding. She wasn’t dying.
‘Oh fuck this,’ she heard the driver say, and the car jostled as he sprang from his seat, and ran from the cab.
You here?
She fought to get the accident out of her mind.
Tell him to slap you.
Huh?
You’re back then, you need to be right here, right now.
Ryan grabbed her hand and pressed his gun into it. ‘I’ll drive, but I need you to cover us.’
She grabbed his hand. ‘Slap me.’
‘What?’
‘Slap me!’
He winced as a smattering of bullets hit the boot of the taxi, then exhaled a small breath and slapped her. Her cheek throbbed, and tears welled up in her eyes, but bleeding to death in a crumpled car fled. She clutched the gun and turned in her seat, carefully looking through what had been a solid piece of glass a few seconds ago.
The bleeding Solstice coughed, and she adjusted herself so that her spare hand was applying pressure to his wound. She fired off a few rounds as Ryan climbed through to the driver’s seat. There were three of them – Solstice or Blue Earth, it didn’t matter, both had murder death kill intentions towards them.
‘I want my magic gun,’ she whispered.
At least targeting worked in a blackout zone – it wasn’t as accurate as it was in a system area, but it was far, far better than what she could manage on her own.
She heard the driver’s door close, and she aimed for the shooter on the left, her targeting overlay appearing as she concentrated. She squeezed off two shots, and both missed.
The taxi’s engine roared, and she slipped from her position as it lurched forward. It broke the slow speed limit, and she grabbed the loose seat belt for stability as Ryan swung around the tight roundabout, and back towards the shooters.
‘Keep your head down,’ he said again, his voice retaining his narcy calm despite the car’s increasing speed.
Bullets hit the bonnet and a few struck the windshield, but it thankfully stayed intact. One of the shooters from the right moved, running out onto the road, getting a better angle to take more shots.
Ryan hit the man without swerving or slowing, the crumpled body flying back to the right, and out of sight as they hit daylight. A few more bullets hit, but then there was only the sound of the engine, and her stressed breathing.
Two comparatively calmer minutes later, they pulled into the Agency garage, the boom gate already up, the Parkers waiting near the lift with a gurney. She kept out of the way as they extracted the injured man, then smiled as Ryan climbed out of the driver’s seat and offered her a hand.
He stooped, held her chin and tilted her head to the side. ‘I hope I didn’t hurt you.’
‘I needed it,’ she said, ‘traumatic flashbacks, yadda, yadda,’ she said as they walked towards the front door. ‘Not that there were guys with guns or failed terrorists when the car crashed. You know what I mean.’
He squeezed her. ‘I do.’
One quick shift later they were in his office. He sat on the couch, his bloody jacket and vest disappearing, and a glass of ice water appearing in his hand. He took a long drink, then placed the glass on a freshly-required table.
She flopped down on the couch beside him and required a Coke.
‘That was,’ he said with a smile, ‘more complicated than expected.’
‘It’s far more complicated than you realise,’ Death said.
Stef looked up to Death, and gave a nervous smile.
Ryan was on his feet in a second, and bowing to Death. ‘My lady.’
She quickly followed suit, disappearing the Coke with a thought. Death smiled at them both, then her expression went serious. ‘Sit, please,’ she said, 'and listen.'
They sat, and Death moved to the centre of the room. ‘What you’ve been told is true, but incomplete. They have two phoenix chicks.’
‘The eggs hatched?’ Ryan asked.
Death was silent for a moment. ‘Phoenix eggs are…they are more of a security blanket than anything else. Phoenixes are delicate at this age, and often need to hide themselves, they create eggs around themselves to achieve that. It’s also relatively easy to break them out of these eggs, and once broken, it takes a long time to create another. They are just babies after all.’
‘Were they stolen, my lady?’ Ryan asked.
‘No, they went exploring and fell from the aviary during the last full moon.’
So, um, do phoenixes live in the moon? That’s kind of-
‘They do not, the moon is just the most common gateway.’
‘Sorry, forgot you can read minds.’
‘I realise it’s ignorant to ask,’ Ryan said, ‘but can’t you retrieve them?’
‘I cannot,’ Death said. ‘Even if they are my creatures, it’s interference, and I cannot interfere.’
‘I’ll say this out loud since you’ll hear it anyway. And I’m sorry, but my brain thinks stupid things. You’re like, all powerful, right? What’s stopping you from interfering?’
Death’s human mask slipped away for a moment. ‘The universe always ends so quickly when I decide I have the right to interfere. It is a terrible, miserable existence when you have to fear Death. I do not interfere because as soon as I decide I have the right to choose who lives and who dies, I cannot help but interfere all the time. The most I allow myself now is to facilitate people interfering with each other.’ The human mask reappeared, and she smiled. ‘And sometimes that works out for the best.’
‘What do you need us to do?’
‘The danger is not the chicks,’ Death said, ‘it is in what people will do to them. On their own, they are harmless enough – a singed garden, or the birth of some small follies-‘
‘A red and a blue?’ Ryan asked.
Death nodded.
She rose her hand, but Ryan pushed it down. ‘I’ll explain later.’
‘If they are killed,’ Death said, ‘they will accomplish what they were born to do.’
‘We will find them, my Lady,’ Ryan said.
‘The most assistance I can give you,’ Death said, ‘is to tell you that they are both within your territory, if that changes, I will tell you.’ She gave them a nod, and walked away, disappearing on the third step.
‘Ok, so you’re going to have to-‘
There was a knock at the door. ‘Come in Curt,’ Ryan said as he looked up.
Curt walked in, am clipboard in his hand. ‘The taxi is dealt with,’ he said, then paused. ‘…ok, what did I miss?’
She shrugged. ‘End of the world, I think?’
Curt looked to Ryan. ‘Sir?’
Ryan stood still for a moment, his eyes unfocussed, then a meeting invite popped up in her HUD. A glaringly red meeting invite, with URGENT branded all across it. She expanded the invite list, and it included all of the agents and aides he was in charge of.
‘I’ll go reconfigure the meeting room,’ she said. She stood and tugged on Curt’s arm. ‘Come on.’
‘Sorry,’ Ryan said, sounding a little strained. ‘This is complicated, and I have no wish to explain it a half dozen times.’
‘It okies,’ she said as she pulled Curt out of the office. ‘See you in a few.’
‘So, explain,’ Curt said as he fell into step.
‘Not sure I can,’ she said as they rounded a corner.
‘Try, newbie, that was supposed to be a routine contact. There was blood all over that taxi, that was not routine.’
‘Phoenixes,’ she said as they stepped into the conference room, the lights immediately going on. ‘And that’s apparently bad. And the fact that Ryan is doing that quiet-deliberately-not-freaking-out thing means that we should be really worried.’ She grabbed the small tablet computer from a holder near the door and started to set the room requirements.
‘Is it a mirrorfall?’ he asked as the room quadrupled in size.
‘I don’t think so,’ she said as the table disappeared and reappeared in a long horseshoe shape. ‘Cripes, is this what a full meeting looks like?’
‘Yeah, guess so, I’ve never been to one,’ Curt said.
She tapped the screen and name cards, tablet computers and glasses of water appeared at each place, and the wall was replaced with a large screen.
They slid into their seats, and she pulled up an expanded version of the invite on the large screen – each agent and Aide was represented by a small square – coloured to indicate if they’d accepted their invite.
‘It’s got to be pretty intense if you’re pulling this together immediately.’
She turned to him. ‘Does Death usually give the Agency missions?’
‘No. No, newbie, she does not.’
‘Then use that to calculate the appropriate level of intense.’
Jonesy appeared and took his seat, quickly followed by Darren and the nice Aide Hammond, rather than the scary Aide Hammond. The scary one appeared a minute later, with Taylor, both of them sweaty and dishevelled – obviously pulled from training.
The room filled quickly, and quietly, with all of the invited Agency staff appearing.
Ryan came into the room last, closed the door, and walked to the centre of the horseshoe shape.
‘I will make this as quick as possible, I don’t like the idea of all agents being pulled away from their duties at once. Two phoenix chicks have escaped, and to the best of our knowledge, are being held by the Solstice.’ There was a murmur, but he silenced it with a look. ‘Yes, this is possible, and yes this has been verified, and I would thank you all to stay out of communication mode until I am done.’
A few of the agents managed to look sheepish, before tripping their own version of /serious.
‘A red and a blue,’ Ryan continued. ‘If either is killed, we will have failed to perform our duty, and be the shift that let the lights go out. The Agency will no longer be required,’ he said to clarify. ‘The red is the worst. Most of you know their purpose, for the benefit of the Aides and the newborn among us, red phoenixes are born to destroy. They are sent to worlds undergoing a mirrorfall, or an event of a similar magnitude, and purge the world of all remaining life – the remaining agents, the fae, the mortals, the animals, the plants. They burn the world until there is nothing left but ash. If it is released here, every living thing on Earth will die. There is no defence, and no way of fighting it. We have to keep it alive, at all costs. And I do mean at all costs. If it costs you the continent, if it costs you a million lives, keep…it…alive.’
There were mutterings of unease, and she shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
‘At least against the blue,’ Ryan said after the room quietened. ‘There is some recourse. The blue is the one most of you will not be familiar with. They bring magic and new life to a world that Life has blessed-’
This made the room loud, and arguments began to form.
‘Ignore your damn indoctrination for a moment. No matter what we have to say,’ Ryan said, struggling with his words. ‘We know the gods do not bring life to a world. Life allows it, and a blue phoenix facilitates it.’ He went still from the effort for a moment. ‘Magic everywhere in the universe is magic. Even if this chick is killed, we are safe, the fae are safe, and probably the majority of halfbreeds. For those that do not have immunity by birth, we have Contingency 32.’
The room erupted while her internal wiki loaded the contingency. There was one loud, clear voice above the rest – Clarke. ‘You cannot be fucking serious, Director!’
‘Quiet,’ Ryan said, and the room seemed to find a collective mute button.
‘Again, for the Aides and the newborns. Contingency 32. To summarise, it is a plan to inject humans with blue in order to give them immunity. It has never been done on a scale of this size. It has never been contemplated on this scale, and implementation on this scale would be, will be, logistical nightmare the likes of which the Agency has never, ever had to deal with.’
‘It can’t be done,’ Clarke said. ‘We can’t do this without exposing the world to magic, unless we want to-‘
‘I told you to be quiet,’ Ryan said, and Clarke sank back down into his seat. ‘It is an option that has to be voiced. For now, we need information, we need personnel, and we need resources. Inform all of your recruits that until further notice, they are all on active duty, all personal leave is cancelled, and they are to remain within their Agency unless directed otherwise. Activate all reserves and those on extended leave, withdraw those on study breaks and loan to other Agencies. Pull in contacts, contractors and informants, offer double the standard contract rate to all those willing to work for the duration, anything more than that, consider their skills, and submit an expense request, I guarantee I’ll pretty much approve anything. I will turn a blind eye to expense accounts and to financial requests, empty the coffers, I do not care, we cannot fail.’
‘What do-‘ Darren started.
‘For now, start with gathering your recruits and your contacts, I’ll give you further instructions as we develop a plan. Techs?’
Several agents looked up.
‘I don’t have to tell you I want eyes on everything. Increase your drone surveillance by a thousandfold.’ He turned to Clarke. ‘I want everyone the Academy can spare, and I want our military personnel on standby.’
‘You’ll need to clear that with Central,’ Clarke said reproachfully.
‘I’m headed there next, but start to organise it.’ He looked over the room, then nodded. ‘Dismissed for the moment, we will be meeting again later, so be efficient, but be quick, I want updates from everyone.’
The agents and their Aides disappeared, all except for Jonesy, Taylor and Magnolia.
Jones stepped forward first. ‘Not questioning you, sir, but I can’t make nearly ten million birds in a couple of hours, it will take time.’
‘As quickly as you can,’ Ryan replied.
Jonesy nodded, then disappeared.
Taylor stood, a quiet volcano for a moment, before he walked from his place in the horseshoe to the front of the room. ‘I can probably get you half of Russia,’ he said after a moment.
‘I would appreciate that,’ Ryan said.
‘They’ll need somewhere.’
Ryan looked to Magnolia. ‘Do you know how to reconfigure floors?’
She gave him a nod.
‘Take level three, no one is using it, I’ll set your permissions, just do a room-by-room before you change anything. Then work on the capacity for your own floor. And lay in supplies enough for a war, because that too is a possibility.’
Magnolia nodded again. ‘I do have contingencies of my own,’ she said. ‘We’ll be prepared.’
Curt rose from his chair as Ryan walked over to join them, but she stayed seated. ‘You haven’t asked me,’ she said as she looked up at Ryan.
‘Ask you what?’
‘This seems like the sort of situation where an Agency resource should be used for Agency reasons, but you didn’t ask me to yet.’
‘We can’t use the mirror for this,’ he said.
‘You just said to fuck the world if we need to, I don’t think you’re allowed to play favourites and protect me.’
‘Mirror magic won’t work, Stef,’ he said.
‘But it’s wishes-‘ she stared.
‘And if it were that simple, I’m sure Death would have given us a lock of her hair.’
‘Huh?’
‘What colour is Death’s hair?’
She thought for a moment. ‘Silver.’
‘The same silver as your heart, Stef.’
‘Her hair is made out of mirror?’
‘Yours is made of blue,’ Ryan said. ‘It’s just the different levels of magic we work at. That’s astounding to you like our level of magic would be astounding to a normal human.’
‘So there’s no point in even trying? What if I’m sneaky, and wish for the location, or like, a phoenix Marauder’s Map? Or for all of us to be teleported to wherever they’re holding it?’ She looked up at him. ‘I’m not worth more than the whole world.’
[You are to me.]
‘You were just asking me if I wanted to be an agent!’ she snapped.
‘I can’t-‘
‘You owe it to your duty,’ she said, ‘and so do I. We need to at least try.’
Ryan closed his eyes, and gave her a nod. ‘Somewhere safe though, with the doctors or with Jones.’
‘I think you gave Jonesy enough work. The tech channel is chatting about having to build ten million birds?’ She stared at the tech general channel in her HUD. ‘And now someone has staring copy-pasting the lyrics to that red balloons song. Why are there birds?’
‘Oblivious as people are, I think they would notice ten thousand UAVs flying around. We have bird programs we use for monitoring instead, no one looks twice at birds.’
‘Okies, that makes sense. And the Parkers will be busy prepping the infirmary for a lot more injuries than normal. And I don’t want to die in a hospital, so here or your office, your choice.’
The world blurred, and his office reappeared. ‘You can reconsider this,’ he said, ‘wait until you’re ordered to do it.’
‘If we wait,’ she said, ‘they might just bypass me and use the mirror, I’d rather show willing and do it now, so that if I’m ok, they can’t try and make me do it again later.’
‘They still might.’ He said as he sat on the couch.
‘Yeah, I know, but I really don’t want the world to end.’
‘The night I recruited you,’ he said as she stripped of her vest and unbuttoned her shirt, ‘you said you weren’t signing up for the “saving the world crap”.’
She required a scalpel. ‘Yeah, well, I grew up a bit, didn’t I?’ She smiled. ‘I’ll only make a small wish,’ she said as she cut into her chest.
‘Be careful, newbie,’ Curt said, moving to stand next to Ryan.
She bit her lip, dug into her chest, let her mind focus, then touched the mirror.
I want to know where the phoenixes are.
She felt fire, and heard something breaking. Blue and red swirled in her eyes, never mixing to become purple, felt fear, felt fire, heard something breaking. Her hands grew heavy and there was singing. She felt fire, heard something break, and everything went black.
Someone was shaking her.
‘Stef! Stef, wake up!’
Ryan.
Everything felt floaty.
‘Wake up!’
A hand at her neck, feeling for a pulse.
‘I’m here,’ she said.
‘Stef?’
She opened her eyes, the blue and red swirl slowly dissipating. Ryan appeared in her field of vision, looking more than a little scorched. Ash and soot dirtied the side of his face, and a chunk of his hair had been on fire.
Something smelled like bacon, and the sinking feeling in her gut told her the source.
A mad-scientist-sized needle of blue was jabbed into her neck, and feeling in her extremities started to return. After the needle was tossed aside, Ryan lifted her and carried her what seemed like a long way back to the couch. The blurry form of Curt moved to her side, and hooked an IV into her arm.
She slowly sat up, and saw a mess.
The couch beneath her was melted, and the carpet beneath her feet had been on fire. The glass windows had been blown out, and a soft breeze filtered into the office. The desk was upturned, and papers were everywhere.
She slowly turned, her neck cracking into place as she did, and saw a hacker-sized hole in the wall. She stood on sore legs and saw a similar mess in the next room, and another hole in the wall, a another mess, continuing all the way down to her office, half a dozen rooms down. Doors had been required in all of the walls – all of which were open and clean compared to the mess she’d created.
‘Oops.’
‘Are you all right?’
She sat back down on the melted couch, and looked down at herself. Her sneakers had melted, her pants had large sections that had burned away, but the skin beneath was fine. The area around her heart though, was the source of the bacon smell, all the flesh scorched and ugly.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Ouch,’ she said, but it didn’t really hurt, it was a distant pant.
She lifted a hand to poke at the burn, and saw a flash of gold.
‘Are you all right?’
Both of her hands were gold, crusted in jewels like the pimped-out crown with something to prove. She flexed her fingers, and they moved normally, despite looking like the ostentatious cousin of the T-1000.
‘Um?’
As she stared at her hands, the gold and jewels began to slough off, creating a rich puddle in her lap before solidifying.
‘Are you all right?’
The question finally registered and she looked up. ‘I think so? I think the Agency took a worse hit than I did.’
‘That’s easy enough to repair.’
‘They’re scared,’ she said as he stared at the gold. ‘They don’t want to be found, because they don’t trust anyone.’ She pushed the gold from her lap and onto the floor. ‘That was a bribe to make us leave them alone.’
‘Do you know where they are?’
She shook her head. ‘I didn’t- It’s all like after-images. I’ve got no idea, sorry.’
‘Thank you for trying,’ Ryan said, ‘it was dangerous, but thank you.’
‘That’s your way of saying it was stupid.’ She touched a hand to the burnt flesh. ‘I think this could have been a lot worse.’ She stuck a finger into her chest, healed herself, sealed the wound – for once, with enough presence of mind to heal with to work with her blue, instead of lining up to get random body parts cut off by Jonesy to be replaced with proper agenty flesh.
‘It could have,’ Ryan said.
She required a fresh suit. ‘I’ll listen to you from now on, ok? It does sorta feel like we’re going low-tech on this though,’ she crinkled her nose. ‘Low magic? Or-’
‘What can we do?’ Curt said before she could start a ramble. ‘We’re spare resources at the moment, sir.’
‘I have something I need you two to do.’ He looked to her. ‘Stef-‘
‘I’m fine, I just exploded is all, that’s nothing major. Gimme something to do.’
‘I need you two to go to fairyland.’
Curt considered this for a moment. ‘Carmichael?’
Ryan nodded. ‘We need all the information we can get our hands on, and he’s a valuable resource.’
‘Who?’
The turned to look at her, and Curt seemed uncertain. ‘I can handle it by myself, sir, I don’t need an escort.’
‘Oi,’ she said, ‘I already caused enough property damage today, I think I’ll-‘
‘Shut it, newbie.’ Curt looked to Ryan. ‘I’ll go by myself.’
Ryan shook his head. ‘An agent needs to go with you, for the sake of legitimacy, and I can’t spare anyone else at the moment.’
She waved a hand between them. ‘Anyone want to clue me in?’
Curt sighed. ‘He’s an agent fetishist, and he’s really good at it, he’s sort of got this “gotta catch ‘em all” attitude, except “catch” with “fuck”. You go come with me, and you’re gonna look like a bribe.’
‘He’s an information broker,’ Ryan said. ‘He has an excellent network, and hiring him for the duration will be well worth the expense.’
‘I’ll go,’ she said. ‘It’s gotta be easier than exploding anyway. And I’ll have a knight in a slightly burnt suit to protect my honour.’
Curt rolled his eyes, then nodded.
Ryan walked over to his desk, lifted it and set it upright. He pulled open a drawer and pulled out a small cashbox. ‘Petty cash for transport and necessities,’ he said as he handed each of them an envelope, ‘I expect he’ll extort us on the rates, agree to it, just get him to cover us until this is over.’
There was s sucking sound as the temporary door disappeared and the hole in the wall went away. The carpet repaired itself and the couch refreshed. There was a tinkling sound as the glass in the windows replaced itself. ‘Whole again,’ Ryan murmured. ‘Good sign.’ He turned to them. ‘Curt, you know how to find him, go through the Marches, it’ll give Stef some more time.’ He handed her full IV bag full of blue. ‘Drink that once you leave the Marches, and you’ll get an extra seven hours. Try not to be that long, but just in case.’
‘We’ll be as quick as we can, promise.’
Ryan gave her a quick hug, and gave Curt a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
She grabbed Curt’s hand and shifted.
Curt exhaled after the long shift, mentally counted his limbs, then looked over to Stef to make sure she hadn’t lost or gained anything. Normal. As normal as she got anyway.
‘That is so weird,’ she said as she walked around the edge of the blue-painted shifting circle, arms out like she was on a balance beam.
‘What?’
‘Shifting down here, or up from here, always feels like I’m getting hit with server lag. I don’t want to know what happens if I get an IRL disconnect.’ She hopped out of the circle, a strange, but proud look on her face.
‘You broke rule one,’ he said.
She tried to look innocent. ‘Which one was that?’
‘Always be considerate to your partner?’ he indicated to his singed suit. ‘We’re headed deep into fairyland, I need a couple of minutes to prep. We’re going to be gone for hours out of a system area, some slight forethought is needed.’
‘Like?’
He fought a sigh. Baby steps. Everything was baby steps. He’d checked, and her profile matched her often claimed cry of genius – but that was on paper, abject genius was of very little use in the real world, if she couldn’t focus for two minutes. She was getting better, but she was still so…tangential to what was going on in the real world, interacting with it when it suited her, not glued to it full-time like everyone else.
He caught her gaze and held it, the eye contact focusing her for a moment. ‘Are you disarmed?
She nodded. ‘I set my Marches shift to convert my gun into a low-wattage taser – which, yes, is street legal without a license-‘
It was a smart move. ‘Good thinking. Are you working on your licence application?’
She stared at the ground. ‘I can’t apply yet.’
‘What?’
‘Citizens have to be sixteen, non-citizens have to be eighteen, unless your race doesn’t live that long, then it’s a case-by-case basis, agents have to be at least five, and I should be grateful, because they only lowered that last year down from ten.’
‘Sorry, newbie.’
‘It’s ok, I don’t usually come down here with the intention of getting into fights.’
He made a macro requirement, and a shoulder bag appeared in his hand, and he crouched to open it and check it. ‘Haven’t been down here on a mission, so I could only plan ahead so much. Water, map, required currency, all my usual stuff, and trust me, having a bag is always useful.’
She smiled. ‘Yeah, but you’ve got one, so you can carry all of our stuff.’ She handed him down the IV bag of blue. ‘Do you mind?’
‘Remind me again which one of us is the agent.’ He said as he gently shoved the blue into the bag before zipping the main pocket, careful to keep it away from anything that could pierce the plastic and leave his things covered in liquid agent.
She stuck her tongue out at him and headed for the door. ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘we don’t’ have all day.’
He let her walk towards the door, and sighed before jogging to catch up. ‘You’ve got to follow me,’ he said, ’you don’t know which way you’re going.’
‘I-‘
‘Point in the direction of the capital, you’ve got a one in four chance of getting it right.’
She pointed south.
‘Wrong.’
She pointed west.
‘Wrong.’
She pointed south.
‘Wrong;’
She pointed north.
‘Wrong.’
‘How can all four be wrong?’
He smirked. ‘Because you pointed in the same direction twice.’
‘I did?’
‘Bus is this way, newbie.’ He pointed an arm east. ‘And it’s that way.’
‘How do you know? How can you memorise this stuff?’
‘This one’s actually easy,’ he said, ‘there’s a massive interchange this way, the Marches Terminus, half of the buses that go from there will at least get us going in the right direction.’
‘I’m no good with public transport, least not here. I mean, I can probably still draw half of the tube map without peeking, but I’ve never really gone anywhere since I came back. I came back, got my flat, and haven’t left since. I know what buses go between the city and the valley, and on the train it’s one stop.’
‘So, functionally, I know more about the city than you do, and I’ve only lived here a year?’
The first thing he had done after feeling comfortable enough to leave the Agency on his downtime was take the major train lines to their end points, to see the limits of the city by rail, by bus and by ferry. He’d made sure to announce his travel plans each time – even if it wasn’t something Ryan had asked for, just to keep on their good side, so they didn’t think he was running. Running was bad. Running led back to the cold, black room and-
He swallowed, and casually brushed his fingers against his throat, phantom agent fingers there, choking him until he saw red, till he saw black, till he was sure he’d seen Death out of the corner of his eye, then leaving him winded on the floor, before doing it again. Over and over and over-
He faked a sneeze, turning away long enough to make sure his eyes were still dry.
Stef was rambling, a good natured rant about the things he was better at. ‘Congrats,’ she said as her rant wound down, ‘you win again.’
He fought to remember what they’d been talking about. Public transport. The sights and sounds. Well, he knew the sights, she knew the sites.
He brushed his arm against hers as they crossed a narrow street, glad of the tiny bit of contact, of comfort, of being reminded of the present.
‘It’s not a competition,’ he said. ‘I feel kind of sorry for you.’
‘Don’t be,’ she said as they walked past a sign announcing the Marches Terminus was only half a kilometre away. ‘I’ve been to plenty of places, Silverpine, Loch Modan, Elwynn Forest-‘
None of the names sounded familiar. ‘Never been.’
‘I could take you,’ she said, ‘anytime you want to start up a WoW account.’
‘Oh, newbie,’ he said with a groan. ‘If they’re not real-‘
‘They’re real enough,’ she said, ‘so are the memories attached to them.’ She turned and walked backward so she could face him. ‘The Enterprise isn’t real either, but I’d say you have some real familiarity and attachment to it, even though it’s been a purely non-interactive experience.’
‘I still don’t think of it as a real place.’
‘I know what’s real and what’s not, doesn’t change the fact that Ironforge is always warm and comforting, and the perfect sort of background image while you’re lying on the bed with a head full of snot.’
He grabbed her and turned her around. ‘You need to look were you’re going, there are people here shorter than you, and “I accidentally committed a murder” isn’t going to wash with a judge.’
‘I will get you gaming,’ she said.
‘Not in this life, Stef.’
She gave him a shrug, and they walked in silence the rest of the way to the bus interchange.
‘Oh…wow,’ she said as they stepped through the large arch that had “Marches Terminus” spelled out in large red letters, and smaller letters of a half dozen other languages.
The rounded, child’s-drawing buses sat at stops that led to sloping tunnels. Information booths – both automated and manned sat to their left; ticket booths were to the right, and several small food carts sat scattered through the place, selling drinks, cakes and strange-looking delicacies.
He stared at the screens above. ‘Seventeen minutes until the next express, or five minutes till the next all-stops, your choice.’
‘What’s the difference?’
‘Two hours versus four hours,’ he said. ‘The all-stops is coach though, so it’s more comfortable.’
‘Wait for the express,’ she said as a small cart carrying four Barbie-sized fairies whizzed by her foot.
‘Stop sixteen then,’ he said, and she followed him through the mostly-fairy crowd.
Only four other passengers waited for the express – two fairies, a hob, and a nymph dressed in a Beatles shirt and her own vines. The nymph watched them as they sat, orange eyes staring and making him self-conscious. For every fae he’d help catch, there were five or more that had slipped through his fingers, every step in Fairyland was another chance to run over someone who had known him, someone who wouldn’t mind-
The nymph beckoned him with a slim finger, and he rose, passing his bag to Stef.
He walked across to the woman – full nymph, at least a fae crossbreed, there was nothing human to be seen in her. Flowers were threaded through her hair, and there was a brand of knotwork running down the side of the arm, wood grain mixing seamlessly with skin.
‘If I asked you to go buy roses,’ she said, ‘would you know what I meant, Agent?’
Agent. Definitely full fae. Halfbreeds and less generally made an effort to distinguish between agents and recruits – unless they’d been raised fae, with the traditional values instilled.
He couldn’t help a slight smile at the “roses” though. ‘It’s not my first time in fairyland.’
Buying roses. A casual, non-expletive way to ask for anonymous sex. As open and sexually liberated as the fairies were, there was still something crass about being in need and walking up to people you found attractive and bluntly asking if they wanted to fuck. “Buying roses” had been coined by one of the larger sexporium chains as a way to capitalise in on those that couldn’t get to one of their establishments, and quickly entered everyday use.
It also helped them brand their interests. The app – which he knew he’d need in a minute; the jewellery that shone or otherwise let out a signal for those bashful about initiating the “I really need to get laid” conversation.
He looked up at the clock. Sixteen minutes until the bus. Perfectly achievable.
‘There’s rooms just over there,’ he said. ‘Meet you there.’
She gave him a nod and quick stepped toward the rooms. He went back over to Stef, grabbing his phone and wallet from his pockets before slipping off his jacket and dropping it beside her. ‘There’s a Gameboy at the bottom of the bag, can you amuse yourself for five minutes?’
‘What’s up? Anything I can help with?’
He gave himself credit for slipping into a poker face before he laughed at her. ‘Nah, I’m good. I’m just going to show her the tourist map. Ten minutes, tops.’
He left her digging for the Gameboy – it had been on the tech-suggested list of “toys to keep Stef busy”, along with a pouch full of games, surprisingly Pokemon heavy – and headed for the room, and the nymph.
She had her hand near the scanner of an unoccupied room – a Rose-branded room to little surprise, they were fast becoming the preferred provider and servicer of the public rooms, other than in establishments that insisted on maintaining their own. ‘No, let me,’ he said as he tapped his wallet against the scanner, and waited for the door to slide open – the single tap had bought them twenty minutes, more than enough time.
She stepped in, he followed, and locked the door behind them by hitting the large black-and-red rose-patterned button.
‘Don’t get that courtesy from a lot of guys,’ she said as she stripped off the shirt and began to unwrap the wide, flat vines she was using to cover the rest of her body.
‘I figure it’s the least I can do,’ he said as he stepped out of his shoes, placed them on the small rack, and unzipped his pants.
He hung his pants over the rack, and dropped his boxers on top of his shoes – there was no point in modesty, no point in keeping unnecessary clothes for the allure, or to be stripped during foreplay. He took off his shirt, but left on the tight t-shirt he wore under his formal shirt, the one he used to hide his tattoos, no point in scaring her. No point in reminding himself.
A vine wrapped around his leg and snaked up to skate across his groin as he pulled on a condom. He reached out a hand, grabbed the vine and turned to face her.
‘You’ll do,’ she said with a grin as she looked him up and down. She held out her phone, the Rose app already loaded and waiting for him. He retrieved his Fairyland phone and booted the app, then tapped his phone against hers. Their screens swirled in unison for a moment, then announced that their mutual details had been recorded, recorded under their usernames of course – their real details wouldn’t be disclosed without contacting the company and following proper procedure.
Even in Fairyland, STIs could be lied about, but with the details recorded for each anonymous encounter, there was paper trail. Failure to disclose an STI was considered a crime – even if it was generally dealt with without the help of the law, or at most with a civil case. It was generally quite a non-issue – the payment for the treatment or medications needed to deal with the frankly weird spectrum of sexually-transmitted nasties the fae could carry. In the rarer cases, when it was something that could last a lifetime, then the punishments were a lot more severe, so the app was a little insurance for all concerned.
‘What’s your preference?’ he asked, ‘bed, wall or floor?’
The Rose Rooms were adequately equipped to handle all quickie styles. Packed into the space was a wide single bed, a sloped section of wall to accommodate those who preferred to stand, and a carpeted section for those who wanted it…uncomfortable and with carpet burns.
‘Bed,’ she said, pushing him onto the supportive mattress.
Two thin white vines reached for the hem of his t-shirt, but he pushed them away. ‘No.’
She stepped up and onto the bed. ‘I’m letting you see everything,’ she said, roots moving across her breasts, teasing the nipples erect.
‘Scars. Car accident. It’s really not a pretty sight, and I’m not comfortable letting anyone see,’ he said, lying with a straight face.
The nymph pouted, but moved forward, settling herself onto his erection without further comment or complaint. He hissed in pleasure at the intimate contact, of the moist warmth, the pulse of life beating against him. He knew well enough not to move – the first moments for a nymph were very important, and all about them, not about their partner.
She reached her arms over her head, and they twisted and melded together, forming a strong trunk that reached toward the ceiling. Reaching vines and branches touched the off-white ceiling and began to spread out. Her spread legs spread further, taking him deeper as her calves pinched against him, thick roots moving beneath his back and wrapping around him to keep him in place.
‘All right,’ she said, and began to move against him.
Sex with a nymph – especially anonymous Rose Room sex with a nymph – was a largely one-sided affair. She pounded against him, enjoying herself without any real need of assistance from him. It was enjoyable to be serviced like this, to have nothing expected of him, but he always felt guilty, as if he should have been doing more. Half-nymphs like a more equal experience, but they still generally preferred to be on top, as it gave them more room to spread out.
Tiny roots flicked and teased his body, eliciting sounds he hoped were suitably manly. The vines against the ceiling spread and curled, and Curt made a promise to himself to try nymph sex on sensory stimulants one day. He came with a soft sigh, but she continued to pulse against him, drawing out the experience. She continued to move against him, keeping him inside her, and a minute later, she came, flowers bursting into life across the vines covering the roof.
Soft petals fell down on them as she collapsed onto the bed beside him, the flowers withering and disappearing as she retracted all of the roots, branches and vines back into the appearance of clothing.
She gave him a pat on the chest, then stood and began to dress. ‘Thanks Agent,’ she said as she pulled her Beatles shirt back on. ‘I really need to be able to focus this afternoon.’
‘Work or class?’ he said, grabbing a tissue from the courtesy stand and wiping himself off.
‘Class,’ she said, ‘engineering.’
He dressed quickly, and smiled as she left the room. He pulled on his shoes, straightened his tie, and pulled a few petals from his hair. He checked himself in the mirror, making sure he had none of the tell-tale signs of getting laid – not that Stef knew what the signs were – and gathered his phone and wallet, then left the room. The sign on the door changed from “occupied” to “awaiting clean” as he closed the door. A small Rose Room maintenance golf cart was already zooming towards the room as he walked back to the bus stop.
The nymph had taken a seat, her face buried in a university-branded tablet computer, bright blue headphones cutting her off from the world.
Stef had a similar ignoring-reality expression as she concentrated on the Gameboy. He grabbed his coat and slipped it back on, then sat, nudging her in the arm before she even noticed his presence.
‘Miss me?’
She gave a shrug, and didn’t look up from the machine. ‘There’s still three minutes until the bus.’
He looked up at the screen – she was correct. ‘How are you keeping track?’
‘I synched a countdown in my HUD.’
‘Of course you did.’
The bus pulled in two minutes later. ‘Come on newbie.’ She turned off the machine and passed it back. ‘Got your card?’
She pulled her card folder from her pocket and extracted her bus card from behind her Agency ID. They tapped on, their uniforms making the bus driver do a double-take and then claimed the backseat on the nearly empty bus.
‘Thought it would have been busier.’
‘On a weekday. After the morning rush. To a city two hours away?’
Concern flashed across her face. ‘Two hours?’
‘You’ve got plenty of time,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry. And if for some reason we get caught up and you get close to your time limit, there’s quicker ways back, but two hour taxi rides aren’t cheap, let alone anything more expedient, so we’ll save those for back-up plans, ok?’
‘And if I need to use the bathroom?’
He pointed to a red pod that sat where most buses had a back door. ‘That’s a toilet, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.’ He took off his jacket and settled into the relatively comfortable seat. ‘Settle in, like I said, two hours.’
She stared out the window for a moment. ‘Can I ask a newbie question?’
‘Of course.’
‘Why is it two hours? I mean, I know there’s not fairy stairs everywhere, but it seems a little extreme that’s there’s nothing closer.’
‘It’s the exclusion zone around the capital,’ he said. ‘It’s so that the stairs can’t be used to bring down invading armies. It’s paranoid, but it’s also prudent, there’s nothing to say people would use it for evil, but there’s too great a chance for exploitation, sort of the same reason recruits can’t shift, it’s not worth the risk.’
‘This is the closest point?’
‘There are a couple of closer ones, but most are useless because we don’t have cars down here – something the Agency really needs to work on – and the other place with busses is a much small interchange than this, so we get transport quicker, and your blue lasts a little bit longer.’
She stared past him, at something up behind his head.
‘Stef?’
She squeaked, and started babbling. He tried to pick out words from the stream of happy-excited sounds. ‘Nonsense?’ he asked. ‘What’s nonsense?’
Her babble stopped as she moved across the seat and knelt in his lap to get a better view at the advertising banner that ran along above the windows. ‘Nonsuch!’ she said, bouncing happily in his lap. ‘But, why, how, what?’
The bus went around a corner, and she fell back, happily sprawling onto the seats.
‘Sit up,’ he said, ‘we don’t want to get kicked off the bus.’
‘But that’s Nonsuch!’
He looked up at the poster, it was an ad you saw everywhere in Fairyland, a picture of the royal palace, with the prices and times for tours. ‘It’s the royal palace.’
‘It’s Nonsuch!’
He gently grabbed her by the shoulders and brought his face closer to hers. ‘I’m happy you’re happy, but I have no idea what you’re on about.’
She stared up at the poster again. ‘It’s Nonsuch Palace. King Henry – the one with all the wives – built it, but it got ripped to shreds hundreds of years ago.’
‘So they copied the design? I still don’t get what’s so special about it.’ He hated himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth. She deflated like a balloon, turned around properly on her seat and sat as still as he’d ever seen, hands folded in her lap. He looked from the poster, down to the agent, and wondered if he could get the driver to stop long enough to let him throw himself under the bus.
He touched her shoulder, and she shuffled away. He felt a stab of regret in his chest, and he withdrew his hand. ‘Sorry,’ he said, trying to cram every bit of sincerity he could into the word. ‘I’m really sorry, newbie. Explain it to me?’
She continued to stare down at her lap. ‘It’s nothing,’ she said, her voice flat, she’d tripped “slash-serious”. ‘You should tell me the plan, how do-‘
‘I want to hear about the palace,’ he said. ‘Seems to be something more than a landmark to you.’
‘What should I expect from Carmichael?’ she asked. ‘If he’s private intelligence, does he work out of firm, or-‘
Voluntarily talking about work, her shields really were up. ‘Stef.’
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to.’
‘I’ll take you on the tour if you tell me.’
She snapped her head up, and slowly turned to look at him.
‘I’ll even pay for it,’ he said, ‘and all the gift shop stuff.’
‘I’m interested in the Tudor period?’ she said, her voice still emotionless.
‘Turn off your macro and try again.’
She turned away, wiped her eyes, and smoothed back her hair, tucking it behind her ears. Her eyes were still wet, but the hurt was gone from her posture. ‘It’s Nonsuch,’ she said again. ‘Henry the Eighth built it, cause he wanted it to be better than anything that had come before, “nonesuch place more magnificent” I think was the idea. Had some production hell issues, stood for a bit, then got torn down and buried.’
She stared at him to make sure he was still listening. She tapped out something on her knees. ‘It- I- I guess I like the idea of it more than the building. Nonsuch, it seems so…fairytale. It seemed like such a shame that it just didn’t exist anymore, so I hoped that like-‘ her cheeks flushed so much he prepared to grab her in case she fainted. ‘I hoped that maybe fairies or elves or something stole it away, that it was saved, not destroyed. It’s a replica, obviously, but I’m still so close to being right that I could burst!’
Her excitement had returned, though far more restrained.
‘Don’t get me wrong when I say this,’ she said, ‘but I find sometimes that I’m a little at odds with myself when it comes to magic. There’s the awesome of it being real with the disappointment of it not working exactly like I thought as a kid. It would seriously drive me insane-‘ she stopped to smirk at that. ‘-if we had to do these big-ass incantations every time we wanted to do something. I couldn’t live without requiring though, but I don’t mind the sparkly, frippy stuff sometimes.’
‘When we’re done with Carmichael, presuming it doesn’t take all day, we’ll go. If it does take all day and you’re running out of blue, we’ll come back tomorrow.’
‘But Ryan said-‘
‘If the world is going to end,’ he said, ‘shouldn’t we get to have a bit of fun first?’
She gave him a small smile, and nodded.
He squeezed her hand for a second, then let it go. He pulled his phone out. ‘Want to have the tourist commentary so you can see the landmarks?’
‘…you has a fairy phone?’ she asked as she took it and began to examine it.
‘It’s kind of necessary down here, I’m surprised you don’t.’
‘I come to Fairyland to ride my pony. And occasionally other ponies. And muck out stalls. And eat as much cake as a gnome can pile onto my plate. It’s more like visiting the country than anything else.’
‘I picked this up on my third trip. It’s nothing fancy, it’s a fairly basic model, and because I’m a non-citizen they can screw me on the plan rates.’
She fingered the magic lamp symbol on the back of the phone, and it cycled through a rainbow of colours before turning to gold again. ‘Oooh.’
‘It’s Genie, it’s sort of like the Apple of Fairyland.’
‘I’ve never had a mobile,’ she said, poking the lamp symbol again.
‘You haven’t, but you’re-‘
‘Who would I call?’ she said, staring down at the phone. ‘I never needed to call anyone, so I couldn’t justify the expense.’
‘We’ll grab you one this afternoon,’ he said, ‘you can call me.’
She stared off into space for a moment. ‘Oooh,’ she said after a moment. ‘That’s nifty.’
‘Share it with the class?’
‘So, like, when there’s stuff I don’t know I get these automated tips, or agent wiki stuff pop up. There’s one for fairy phones. If I’m reading this right, the Agency has a sort of corporate account thing, so we won’t get screwed by the plan rates.’
‘You can if you want.’
‘Huh?’
‘Some degree of separation from the Agency is nice. Just that little bit of protection for situations like Carol.’
She smiled. ‘When I hear you preaching paranoid, I listen. But yeah, my first phone, this afternoon.’
He laid the phone in her hand and opened up the app. ‘Go with the text, the voice is sorta annoying.’ She leaned against him, folded her legs up and stared down at the phone, flicking through the information as it loaded.
He rested his head back against his jacket and closed his eyes, happy for the moment, despite the threat of apocalypse.
The bus went through a tunnel, and pulled into an exchange that could have been a clone of the Marches Terminus, other than the signage that identified it as “Basin’s Passing”. Like at the Terminus, the bus sat at stop sixteen. ‘Is this it?’ Stef asked.
‘Has it been two hours?’
‘I’m used to shifting, it feels like ten.’
‘This is the halfway point,’ he said. ‘Give me the phone for a minute.’
She passed the phone across, and watched him compose a message.
‘Texting Carmichael,’ he explained.
‘Shouldn’t you just call or something? How do you even know he’ll have an appointment free?’
‘He does very little work himself,’ he said as the phone beeped. ‘And he always has time for the Agency. Always.’
‘How do you know so much? I’d never even heard of this guy.’
Curt went quiet for a moment.
‘They threw me in the deep end,’ he said at last, moving closer so he could keep his voice down. ‘I-‘ He fidgeted with the phone for a minute. ‘Do you know why I’m a recruit, Stef?’
‘You wanted to be a good guy,’ she said.
‘No, I wanted to stop being Solstice. I didn’t think about anything further than that, I couldn’t hurt people anymore. It doesn’t automatically follow that they’d recruit me, especially not with-‘
She took his hand and squeezed. ‘You don’t have to-‘
‘I want to,’ he whispered, ‘I want to talk about this. Not all of it. Never all of it, but- I want to.’
‘Okies.’
‘They interrogated me,’ he said, ‘let’s just say that. I wasn’t as cooperative as I could have been, but they- I’d had a couple of close encounters with Agents, but always gotten away, it wasn’t until they-‘ he swallowed. ‘They made it really easy to understand why Solstice kill each other rather than be captured.’
‘But aren’t there rules about-‘
‘Not if there’s no paperwork,’ he said, ‘I was there for a two weeks before there’s one official mention of me. Unless there’s a real reason, Agencies can only hold a prisoner for a week before moving them on to Central or prison. Recruits, however, recruits they can keep forever.’
His words sank in, and she heard blood pounding in her hears. ‘Oh my god.’
‘They were going to push for the death sentence. I wouldn’t have minded. Gods, I would not have minded that at all.’
The bus pulled away from the stop.
‘Petersen left me the form and the pen and an hour to decide. I think at that point I hadn’t eaten for a week. I was hurting, I had nothing left. Dignity, pride, self-worth, none of it. Nothing they hadn’t taken. And…if I didn’t sign that form, then it was all going to be over. At least they feed you in prison before they execute you.’
‘Why’d you sign it?’
‘Honest to god, newbie, I couldn’t tell you.’ His fingers threaded through hers. ‘I don’t think it was any one thing. It was all the things I hadn’t done or wanted to do. I’d never been in love, I’d never been on a roller coaster, and I- I I was just too damn afraid to die, I didn’t want to die. I wanted the pain to be over so much, I don’t think I’d have put up a fight if he’d come in and put a gun to my head, but I couldn’t just lie there and not do this one tiny thing that would give me a chance.’
He was sharing, the least she could do was reciprocate, especially when it was relevant. She swallowed, then looked over to him. ‘There’s nothing wrong with a good, healthy dose of fear,’ she said, ‘I think that’s what stopped me.’
‘When you tried to-‘
She nodded. ‘Sleeping pills. Started to fall asleep, and I think I did, for just like a second, but I woke up, and then I was more scared than I’d ever been. Went and threw everything up, and hated myself more than I ever had for that, but the hate was better than the fear.’
He put an arm around her and held her close. ‘We’re so fucked up, aren’t we?’
She heard his heart pounding in his chest. ‘Yeah, like, Olympic-level mixed-doubles amounts.’
‘Once I was on the books,’ he said, ‘they could get away with a lot less. Still worse than what Taylor did to Mags, but not as bad as what they’d been doing. And at least I got food, water, and a chance to shower. Then he just…ran out of steam, or it stopped being amusing, or something, and he was stuck with a recruit he didn’t want and had no idea what to do with me.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Their doctor, who was like the only one who’d had an issue with the way they’d treated me, made the argument that I was already on the books as a recruit, I was fit, I was smart, and yanno, that I had damn well surrendered. I-‘
She felt him shaking.
She pulled away from him, and looked at his barely composed face.
‘I’m ok,’ he said, his voice cracking.
‘No, you’re not.’
He tried to look cocky, but it fell apart in a second. ‘Well I’d better be, cause if I’m not, then-‘
She wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pushed his head down into her lap. He struggled for four seconds, then stopped, wrapped his arms around her like he had done in the hotel room, and sobbed quietly. Just like in the hotel room, she stroked his hair until he calmed. After a moment, he twisted in place, head lying flat in her lap so he could look up at her, tears rolling from his eyes down his cheeks.
‘There was nothing I could do,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t save the girl, I couldn’t save the agent, I could only save the baby.’
‘I believe you.’
‘She begged me. She knew she was going to die, she knew they were killing her agent, and she begged me. I did it, I let her kiss the baby, and then I ran. I surrendered and they still tortured me. I couldn’t have saved them, and at least I got the baby out and safe, and they still tortured me.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘The mother was Petersen’s ex, so I got told. The baby wasn’t his, but he still loved her, and I murdered her.’
‘You didn’t.’
‘That’s the way he saw it.’
Silence fell for a few moments, and he stayed in her lap, eyes half-closed as she played with his hair. ‘Have you thought about, I dunno, pressing charges or something?’ she asked after a moment.
‘No,’ he said. ‘No. It’s over, and I’m trying to forget it ever happened. I’m finally starting to stop looking over my shoulder for Petersen. I really thought he was just going to show up one day and off me. I made Aide and he didn’t do anything, so I think I’m safe.’
‘You are safe,’ she said.
He smiled. ‘I hope so. Do you mind if I stay?’
‘You’re the one who said we had another hour to go.’
‘Not on the bus, newbie, here. Here where I am here,’ he said, leaning into her hand.
She shrugged. ‘Can I has the phone back?’
He passed up the phone. ‘Give it back if I get a message though.’
‘Sure,’ she said as she started to flick through the other apps. Halfway through a game of Solitaire, he started to snore.
She felt a note of panic as she looked out the window – they were about an hour from the capital, but unless there were fireworks upon reaching the stop, she had no way of knowing what stop they needed to get off at. She looked back at the phone.
Tech don’t fail me now.
She found an app with the logo for the transit service and waited for it to boot. As it did, the screen went grey and asked if she wanted to sync with their current transport. She carefully tapped “yes” and the bus’s route information appeared, along with a stop list and a live-updating map. The panic disappeared as it let her select the stop she wanted, and gave a running countdown of the estimated tine, along with changing the map to give their stop a little star icon. Everything was fine.
Curt moved in her lap, turning, a shoulder digging into her thigh as he planted his face against her stomach, exhaling warm breaths into her uniform. She wiggled her leg until his shoulder moved to a less-painful position.
She’d thought mothering the Lost Boys would be easy, and she had told Peter as much. Peter had believed her boast, had agreed, had crowed in delight at finding someone “wonderful”, a “wonderful girl” no less because apparently girls and boys were different kinds of wonderful. Mothering them had seemed like an easy prospect from afar, a kind word, a comforting gesture, a simple presence that made things better.
The theory was great, the reality wasn’t so easy. Torture by agents wasn’t something that someone could just get over. Starting over, starting in a new life that had been forced on you wasn’t something that could be made better with a kiss and a bit of medicine. Feeling alone, feeling unworthy and feeling like dirt weren’t things that went away after one good adventure. Happy thoughts, maybe, but solid years of happy thoughts with facts and feelings to back them up.
The bus pulled over, and changed drivers before starting off again.
To be counted as a friend was wonderful. To contribute validated her. To be relied on was terrifying. She looked down at the sleeping lost boy taking refuge in her lap again. He was welcome to whatever small comfort she could give, for the next hour anyway.
The building looked innocuous enough.
‘Are you sure that’s the place?’ Stef asked.
‘I’ve been here at least a dozen times,’ he said, ‘yeah, we’re at the right place.’
‘Then what are we-’
He put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Wait here for a minute, newbie?’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s a sexporium and I need a way of getting you through it without you going weird?’
She sat on the nearest bench. ‘I’m waiting.’
Curt disappeared into the revolving door, then returned with two bracelets and a blue blindfold. ‘Turn around,’ he said.
She obediently turned, and stood still as he tied it around her head.
‘Here, feel my arm,’ he said as he put it under her hands. ‘Hold on and I’ll escort you in.’
She grabbed onto his arm with both hands as he lead her through the door and into the music-filled space of the sexporium. There were two close beeps as their bracelets were inspected, and then they walked across a tiled floor – it was a lot bigger than she expected – and then carefully up a flight of stairs.
There was the sound of a door opening, and he pulled her across the threshold.
‘Curt,’ she heard someone – presumably Carmichael – say. ‘Someone to take care of O’Connor for you?’
‘Maybe later,’ Curt said as he guided her to a plush leather seat. ‘Business first.’
‘As you wish, but allow me to conclude this first,’ the fairy said.
‘Sure thing,’ Curt said. ‘I’ll go over your menu.’
She stared intently into the blindfold, very, very glad of it, judging by the strange sounds in the room. Sticky sounds. Fleshy sounds. Sounds of things she didn’t want to see. She heard the fairy give a sigh of relief, then sound of feet. Two pairs of feet. There was the sound of clothing moving, and the lighter set of footsteps leaving the room and the sound of a door closing.
After another moment, Curt pulled on the blindfold she was exposed to the room for the first time. It was surprisingly simple – a low, round table, three leather couches, menus and catalogues scattered around, and a phone.
The fairy, Carmichael, stood across from them, blue and gold wings extended. Other than the beautiful wings though, he could have passed for an agent – a simple haircut, a simple suit. He crossed and slapped Curt on the back. ‘It’s been too long.’
‘Lower your prices and you’d see me more often.’
‘Or you could give me reasons to give you free passes,’ the fairy said with a smile. ‘And who’s your friend?’
‘Agent Mimosa.’
Shock broke through the fairy’s affable expression. ‘Pardon?’
‘Agent Mimosa,’ Curt said again. ‘Isn’t intelligence supposed to be your game, Carmichael?’
‘I noticed the name a couple of months ago,’ Carmichael said, ‘I didn’t have a face to go with it until now. You’ll have to forgive me, Agent, you’re not what I expected. You’ve been holding out on me, Curt.’ The fairy reached for her hand, and bent to kiss it before she could protest or yank it back. ‘Charmed,’ he said, before returning to his chair. ‘Payment is-‘
She elbowed Curt in the ribs.
‘I told you,’ Curt said, ‘it’s business.’
The fairy sat straighter at this. ‘You’re here under the auspices of the Agency?’ He looked to her. ‘This is an official visit?’
She gave a nod, unable to find her voice.
There was a knock at the door, and a scantily-clad waitress walked in. Carmichael raised a bottle of red alcohol. ‘The same again please, you two?’
‘She’ll have what she is,’ Curt said to the waitress with an all-too-cocky smile. ‘A virgin Mimosa. And I’ll take a bottle of the house special.’ The waitress nodded and left.
She felt her cheeks flush, and there was a soft tinkle of glass as Carmichael dropped his drink. Curt had been right about the effect the word would have on the fairy. By the time she looked over at the fairy, he was composed and pouring himself a new drink in a fresh glass. ‘Nice, Curt,’ he said, ‘you still manage to catch me off guard.’
‘Sometimes truth makes for a convenient joke,’ Curt said.
Carmichael stared into his drink for a moment before looking up. ‘Agent,’ he said, ‘is what your recruit says the truth?’
She swallowed, and nodded.
‘Let’s get all of this out of the way,’ Curt said. ‘So that we can get down to business.’ He looked across to her. ‘Give me your hand.’ She lifted her hand and Curt grasped her wrist, and pulled it across towards Carmichael, and held it still. ‘Taste.’
Fear, hot and sharp, drove spikes into her neck. She tried to pull her hand back, but Curt’s grip was immovable. She trusted him, but he’d said nothing about being offered as a snack. She stared at the fairy, catching snatches of her reflection in his wings, half-expecting him to grow fangs and go down on her wrist.
Carmichael reached into a leather satchel beside his chair and pulled out a small, slim black device. He waved it over her hand, and a blue light sit up on the polished surface. She felt a pinch against her skin for a second, before blue began to spiral up, forming into a perfect, slow-moving tornado held aloft above the black device by science or magic or both.
He pulled it away from her hand, held it to his mouth and lapped at the blue until none remained. Curt let her hand go, and she pulled it back, sitting on it to keep it safe from another harvesting.
Carmichael’s mouth moved as though he was tasting some fine wine, or some expensive cheese, and she felt her stomach turn. He was tasting her. Comparing her against the other agents he’d had, and enjoying himself. It was one thing to nom on blue if you were an agent, it was another thing to treat it like it some sort of exquisite treat.
‘Three-point-five,’ the fairy said, ‘upgraded to four-point-two. But it’s…different. Less of a punch than usual. Now I’m even more curious.’
She stared at the fairy, dumfounded that he could taste the version number of her software.
‘Mind if I…?’ Curt said. She gave him a nod. ‘Human into agent experiment. One of Jones’. Does that explain the taste?’
‘That isn’t what an augment tastes like.’
Augment?
Ask the Boy Wonder later.
‘Full conversion,’ Curt said. ‘Blue through and through.’
Carmichael smiled. ‘That would be something to brag about.’
She looked away. ‘But I’m not a real agent.’
‘So you can speak,’ the fairy said. ‘If you were human, what’s your name?’
‘Stef.’
‘Stef. Short, simple, perfect for an agent. I’m not sure if Curt explained this to you-‘
‘We’re here for business,’ Curt said. ‘And you’re wasting your time.’
‘I like Agents,’ Carmichael said, undeterred. ‘We are all allowed our fancies, and your kind happens to be what works for me. I also wish to experience as many of your kind as I can, it would be far simpler to settle down with one, a few, or a dozen, and I have had more than enough offers, believe me, but that does not appeal. Therefore, I allow myself generosity in attaining each new experience. I cannot give you the world, but anything less than that should be negotiable.’ He smiled. ‘Sometimes it’s quite simple. The first one your recruit brought to me wanted a pet dragon, and agents are unable to apply for exotic pet licences. I got him the beast, a licence by proxy, and we both had a very enjoyable evening. What is it you want?’
She kept a level gaze on the fairy, not trusting herself to look at Curt. He’d said he knew the fairy, knew his habits, he’d never said he’d procured agents for him. It didn’t change anything. It didn’t change anything. It didn’t mean that he was looking at her like a payday.
Her mouth felt dry.
She trusted him.
He should have told her. He should have told her. He should have told her.
Concentrate.
She blinked and shrugged. ‘Nothing. I won’t want anything.’
‘Come now, Agent. For a rare experience such as yourself-‘
‘Carmichael-’ Curt said.
‘Ten times your finder’s fee,’ Carmichael said to Curt without looking away.
Ten times. An offer of ten times any usual rate without blinking was serious. The fairy was brandishing serious money, whatever the finder’s fee was, it wasn’t just a burger and drink at Famous Fry’s.
‘She’s not interested.’
This time, Carmichael turned to look at Curt. ‘A hundred times, if you convince her.’
Blood pounded in her ears, and the room started to spin. The fact that he had a thing for agents was fine. There was nothing wrong with that. The fact that he wanted her was less fine. It was weird and it was stupid, but he seemed dead serious. There was nothing about her to want, but he was pressing on anyway. Pressing on, and offering a crazy finder’s fee, a fee that had pale in comparison to what he’d actually give her.
She wondered if Curt felt like a pimp.
She wondered how far friendship went when money was on the table.
Curt shuffled on the seat beside her, pulled a menu from behind his back and leaned forward to drop it onto the table. As he sat back on the couch, his arm moved to rest against hers. Touch. Warmth. Closeness. Comfort. Safety.
The fear subsided.
‘I don’t want anything,’ she said.
‘An agent is special enough. Virgin agents are common enough, but they’re never more than a year from newborn. You’re an experiment outside of a basement, that makes you one in a million. All of that combined…there isn’t much I wouldn’t give for a week with you. I may even be able to bring myself to part with a piece of mirror, I have several, you know.'
Mirror. Something familiar at last.
She gave herself for keeping a straight face without /serious. ‘I have no use for mirror.’
‘They can give you whatever your heart desires,’ the fairy said.
She didn’t desire anything she couldn’t require.
Liar.
Huh?
Liar.
Want to clue me in?
Come on, Spyder, you know what you want.
Her heart sat cold, hard and still in her chest. An immovable lump of dead planet.
I want a heartbeat.
Good girl.
I can’t tell him that.
No, but you needed to realise it.
‘Think it over, but for now,’ Carmichael said. ‘I’ll accept your answer of “no” so we can move along to whatever business the Agency has with me.’
‘The end of the world,’ she said, her voice coming back.
‘What?’
The waitress came back into the room, put down the drinks and left.
‘What?’ Carmichael said again.
‘The Solstice have two phoenixes,’ she said, ‘babies, and Blue Earth probably knows as well.’
‘Of course they would,’ Carmichael said, ‘their organisation is named for the blue phoenix, do you know which colours?’
‘One red and one blue,’ she said.
‘I would have preferred two blue,’ he said, ‘red isn’t good for anyone.’
‘Can we count on you?’ Curt said.
‘I can never say no to the Agency,’ he said. ‘But I am starting from scratch, I haven’t heard anything about this.’
‘They’re in Brisbane,’ she said, ‘start there. That’s all we know as well, and the only advantage we have is that we’ll be informed if they leave the city limits.’
‘It’s such an innocuous place for the apocalypse to start. Red we have no chance, but blue…Contingency 32? To do the whole world would be impossible,’ Carmichael said, ‘without letting everyone know of magic, and that may destroy things faster than a red phoenix ever could.’
‘Do you think they know what to do with them?’ she asked.
‘I think that when they manage to hurt one and a blackout the size of Barai-‘ he saw the blank look on her face. ‘Sorry Agent. The size of…Romania, I guess is a fair comparison, opens up. And that’s if it’s only a blackout, it could be a blast wave that takes out everything. You’ll have to have your PR guy fake a nuclear explosion, which will lead to so many problems. A blackout – possibly a permanent blackout right across your city – is the best thing you can hope for.’
‘I’ll have Jones patch you in once the emergency stuff is set up,’ Curt said.
‘We didn’t’ talk money yet.’
‘This is for your benefit as much as anyone else,’ she said. ‘Red phoenix, everyone loses, blue phoenix and all of our lives get a lot more complicated. You might get more customers, you ‘ll have more information to play with, but you also may find this city being very glad of its exclusion zone. Human nature is what it is, and if the masquerade drops, you can’t expect humans not to come knocking.’
‘Our military-‘
‘War may be good for your intelligence business,’ she pushed, ‘and even the traffic here may increase, but the everyday will get harder. Hoarding, stock fluctuations, banks being more cagey with their business, upping the repayments on loans, calling in their larger loans. Every bit of systematic normalcy that you count on everyday can go out the window if there’s one bullet fired.’
‘You make a good point, Agent.’
‘As of right now, you need to dedicate all of your resources to this. We will pay those at normal rates, including overtime, meal allowance and travel, but still, non-emergency rates. Your fee, however, will include a twenty-five per cent per diem bonus, on top of your personal emergency rates.’
‘I-’ Carmichael started.
‘Of course you get an expense account, Keep your receipts,’ she said with a smile. ‘As to resources that can be required, we’ll have some people on that, and you can keep anything that’s required, so long as its within reason, and it’s not restricted.’
‘I didn’t think it was possible,’ Carmichael said, ‘but I think I want to fuck you more than I did five minutes ago.’
She felt her face flush, but tried to keep her expression stable. She bit the inside of her cheek and leaned forward. ‘So we have a deal then?’
‘Agent-’
She pulled back, reached into Curt’s bag, and threw her bag of blue into the fairy’s lap. ‘And that, sir, is your signing bonus.’
‘You have a deal, Agent.’
She stood and held down her hand to shake. He took her hand and kissed it again. She gave him a half-second smile, then pulled her hand back.
‘We’re going to head back,’ Curt said as he stood.
‘You don’t want to use your day pass, Curt?’
Curt looked tempted for a moment, then shook his head. ‘You could comp it to my account.’
‘I could,’ Carmichael said, ‘but I won’t. If all turns out, then I’ll comp you a free day, but it wouldn’t hurt you to spend some money here once in a while.’
Curt shrugged. ‘Maybe.’ He shook the fairy’s hand and they turned to leave.
‘Blindfold, newbie!’ he yelped as she pushed the door open.
There were boobies everywhere.
‘IRL...jiggle physics engine...’ she managed before Curt grabbed her head and wrapped the blindfold around, sinking her back into safe, boob-less darkness.
She heard Curt sigh as they walked down the stairs, and the faint sounds of Carmichael laughing.
‘Oh, newbie, what am I going to do with you?’
‘Boobies,’ she said. ‘Boobies. Lots of boobies.’
‘You do have a couple yourself you know.’
‘I do not and you’re a horrible liar for saying so!’ she pulled away from him. A pair of breasts brushed past her, and she whimpered.
‘Ye gods and little hackers,’ Curt muttered as he grabbed her by the shoulder and steered her to freedom.
Stef felt Curt push her up against a wall, then let her go. He grabbed at her wrist and pulled off the bracelet, then removed her blindfold.
‘Wait here,’ he said, ‘just got to return this stuff.’
She blinked in the bright sunlight as he went back through the revolving door.
‘And the first words out of your mouth are going to be “I want lunch”,’ he said when he returned.
‘I want lunch,’ she said obediently.
He gave her a smile. ‘Come on, there’s a big Fry’s just down the street, you’ll love the playground.’
She followed him down the street, away from the boobies, and adjusted the timer she’d set for her blue so that the bag was no longer accounted for, and entered approximate times for the walk back across the city to the bus stop, the return trip and the walk back out of the Marches. The numbers were empirical, and incapable of lying.
‘We won’t have time for Nonsuch today,’ she said.
‘We’ll see what we can do. You gave up your blue,’ he said, ‘you didn’t give me time to stop you.’
‘It was to seal the deal,’ she said, ‘he was about to argue, and we probably would have been up for at least another twenty-five per cent jump in his fee, this way saved the Agency a ton of money.’
‘Seriously newbie,’ he said as he slowed his pace to walk beside her, ‘how the fuck did you do that? You just- That was amazing, Stef.’
She blushed. ‘I haven’t even had to negotiate my way out of paper bag for ages, so we didn’t get the best deal, if I knew what I was doing, I probably could have made him roll over and beg, but we didn’t do too badly.’
‘He would have rolled over and begged if you’d asked.’
‘I meant metaphorically. Can we please not- I want to forget about everything that happened in there.’
‘This is why I wanted to come alone.’
‘And what deal would you have given him?’
He stared at the ground. ‘Nowhere near as good as you got out of him.’
‘So it’s a good thing I came,’ she said.
‘How did you do it?’
‘I grew up around money,’ she said. ‘Unlike the princess training, some of it stuck. Like I said, this wasn’t the best deal we could have got, and I think he would have pushed for a better deal if-’ Words. Images. Phrases. All of it. None of it. Concepts that weren’t supposed to apply to her. ‘If he wasn’t distracted by how much he wanted to shag me.’
‘You sure you’re ok?’
She stared at the ground. ‘I didn’t expect him to be so overt.’
‘The good thing is,’ he said, ‘you only have to go through it once. He does the pitch to every agent he meets, but once you know the offer’s on the table, he leaves it alone.’
‘You sold him agents.’
‘Jesus, Stef, don’t say it like that.’
‘But you did.’
‘Don’t.’ His voice was strained. ‘I’ve seen the results of agents being sold, and the result is not a pet dragon.’ He looked down at her. ‘It was bad enough when I believed that agents were monsters, but now- Now it’s so easy to take memories and imagine it being you or Ryan or Jones. This is shit I wouldn’t wish on Taylor.’
She hugged his arm, keeping it trapped as they continued down the street. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge up stuff. But you sorta got distracted when you started to tell me how you met Carmichael.’
‘Stories over food?’ he suggested. ‘We’re here.’
Big was an understatement, the restaurant was huge – three levels, tubes connecting the playground on each level. She let go of his arm and started to run towards it.
‘Cars, newbie!’
She stopped dead as she looked up to take in her surroundings – her foot was poised to step into the street. ‘Oh. Right.’
They crossed at the pedestrian crossing, the blue stripes on the street glittering in the sun. ‘They’re so much prettier than regular zebra crossings,’ she said.
‘They’re solar panels.’
‘Eh?’
He pulled her the rest of the way across the street, then crouched and pointed to the closest glittering blue stripe. ‘They’re solar panels.’ He turned and motioned to the glittering flecks in the concrete footpath. ‘And so are those.’ He stood. ‘It all pumps into the central grid. The footpath, tops of streetlights, tops of bus stops, backs of signs, pretty much every unused surface actually serves a purpose.’
‘Ooh.’
‘Food, c’mon.’
A chute beside the door opened, and blasted a fairy into the air.
‘Did we come on circus day?’
‘It’s just a booster, they’re a convenience for customers.’ They walked in, and her attention turned to the brightly coloured entrance to the playground.
‘You sure I’m not to big?’
‘You could make the argument that you’re too old, but not too big, you got any idea how big some fae kids can get?’ He picked up a silver electronic bracelet – very similar to the one they’d worn at Carmichael’s place, and snapped it around her wrist. ‘Press the button when you’re ready to come out.’ He held up a matching pager. ‘And this will buzz me.’ He opened the door. ‘Have fun, newbie, I’ll order food.’
She stepped into the playground and took a running leap into the giant bubblepit. She sank through the semi-solid bubbles, watching the holograms that ran through them, reflected from the screens surrounding the pit. She grabbed one of the head-sized bubbles with both hands and squeezed it until it burst into a hundred smaller bubbles.
She wiggled and half sank, half swam to the bottom, finding a half dozen fae kids there, each smashing bubbles or drawing shapes on the surface and pushing them up, messages to be found by other kids.
A girl with pointy, fuzzy, green ears pushed a bubble at her, a smiley face drawn on the surface. She added hair to the face and pushed it back before moving towards one of the corners of the hexagonal pit. Three of the corners were occupied, but the fourth was free. She pushed the bubbles out of the way, laid on her back on the rubbery mat and stared up through the ten feet of bubbles.
Oily rainbows ran across the surface of each bubble. It was a hundred zillion times better than a regular ball pit. It was magic, and it was safe. There were just bubbles, there wasn’t the threat of the end of the world, there wasn’t a fairy-
Her mind still baulked at the thought. She grabbed one of the bubbles pressing down on her and held it tight – it was a poor replacement for Alexandria, but it would have to do.
Agent fetish or not, there was no reason that…keenness should have been aimed in her direction. There was nothing there to want. Nothing about her that was good. Nothing about her that should inspire lust. Broken mind. Broken body. Broken soul. Broken girl.
She felt tears on her cheeks.
The bubble in her arms burst and she grabbed another.
‘It’s not fair,’ she whispered.
Careful, you said that out loud.
It’s not fair.
What isn’t?
Come on, don’t make me-
You’re never going to get any better if you don’t face up to what’s bothering you.
I don’t want to.
You don’t want to what, Spyder?
Oh fsck off, would you?
If I leave you alone, you’ll stay in here forever.
I can live off scraps.
You-
I just want it to go back to being simple. It’s all too complicated now. I want it to be my life again. I want it to be that making dinner for myself was an actual damn achievement. Or showering more than once a fortnight. I could handle that. I can’t-
You’ve been doing fine so far.
And how many more good days can I have? How long till I just stop working, and what if that’s during a fight? It was fine to just stop before. I could switch off without consequences. I can’t do that anymore. I can’t live in my wardrobe for three days. I can’t hide under the covers and pray the world disappears. People count on me. People actually count on me and I can’t handle that.
Spyder…
If they’re counting on me, I can disappoint them. If I disappoint them-
Ryan can’t exactly send you to boarding school.
He can transfer me. He can give me to the Lost. He can lock me in the basement. He can-
He’s not going to get rid of you.
‘That’s what fathers do!’
Inside voice, Spyder.
She sat up and wedged herself into the corner.
Ryan is not James.
She drew a sad face on the bubble in her arms and pushed it away.
I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve any of this.
She grabbed another bubble and pushed her face into it, suffocating herself for a moment before it burst – a built in safety measure to stop accidental deaths on company property.
Her wrist buzzed.
She held it up and looked at it. The red LED blinked on and off as the bracelet vibrated.
‘Sigh.’
She wiped her face with the back of her hand, crouched, then pushed off up into the bubbles. Going up was always harder than going down. She stepped onto bubbles and jumped up, making her way up the ten feet of the pit bit by bit until she could grab onto the ladder at the top and pull herself up and out.
She went to the door, and waited for Curt to buzz her out.
The bracelet came loose, and he put it back in the rack before showing her to the table.
The tray sat on a warming circle, keeping the foot hot. She slid into the other side of the booth and waited as he distributed burgers, fries, aole chips, drinks and sauce sachets, the brikni slab he left in the centre of the table.
She dug into the small box of aole chips – savoury chips of bark that aided in digestion – they were supposed to be eaten after the meal, like fortune cookies, but she could never resist eating them first. ‘They didn’t have purple?’ she asked.
‘I didn’t know you liked the purple ones.’
‘Ok, new rule for buying me food, if you can choose between a nifty colour and a boring colour,’ she said as she lifted a green chip, ‘pick the cool colour.’
‘At least I got orange brikni.’
‘Like anyone eats brown brikni if they have a choice.’ She stared at his burger. ‘What the hell is that?’
He pulled the piece of plastic out of his burger and twirled it. ‘Unicorn horn, it’s a fauxnicorn burger.’
‘You got two, you must be feeling horny.’ She laughed and it came out as a snort. ‘Ok, sorry, even I know I didn’t mean to say that.’
He stabbed the end of the horn into the brikni and pulled off a chunk. ‘Have you ever had real unicorn?’
‘Is there still meat around? Seems like it should have gone off by now.’
‘It’s ten times rarer than the wine, but it still exists. Apparently the fake stuff isn’t a bad reproduction of the taste. I just got you regular, wasn’t sure if you had a preference.’
‘Trade you one?’ she said as she held up one of her plain burgers. He nodded, and handed across a fauxnicorn burger – this one with a small purple horn stabbed into the top.
‘I was watching,’ he said, ‘you spent your whole time in the bubbles, you get stuck down at the bottom?’
She shook her head. ‘Nah, it’s just really neat at the bottom. And sometimes there’s loose change. I’ve only been in the bubblepit in the park near Patty’s before, and that one only does the holograms on the top layer of bubbles.’
She pulled out the purple horn, laid it on the edge of the table and unwrapped the burger. The top of the bun had a silhouette of a unicorn toasted into the top. ‘I’m not sure that’s necessary,’ she said. ‘And why don’t they do it for the other burgers?’
Curt swallowed, wiped his mouth, then smirked. ‘A question to answer your question: what flavour are the regular burgers?’
‘They’re-’ Beef. Pork. Chicken. Llama. No, not llama, that had a distinct taste. The regular burgers tasted like- Everything. Nothing. Like burgers. Like meat. Her eyes went wide. ‘What the hell have I been eating?’
Curt stared.
He watched as Stef looked down at her burger, the look of sheer terror still plastered to her face as though he’d told her she was eating kittens.
After a minute, she looked back up. ‘Should I be worried?’
He leaned forward, his chin resting on his hands.
‘Curt?’
He started to laugh. He slid away from the table, laying lengthwise on his side of the booth, legs hanging off the end of the seat. More than a few of the fae looked over to see what must have appeared to have been one of the Agency’s finest experiencing a mental break. After a couple of solid minutes, he sat up, took a long drink, and shook his head, and tried to settle back into his role as the more sensible one.
‘Who are you,’ she asked, ‘and what did you do with my padawan?’
‘You should have seen your face,’ he said, then took a big chomp of his fauxnicorn burger. ‘Oh, gods, your face.’
‘Your face!’ she retorted, then she gave him her standard not-really-that-mad-pout. ‘I’m glad I amused you.’
‘I haven’t laughed like that-’ he cut himself off. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever laughed like that.’
She was still staring at the burger like it could grow legs at any time.
‘It’s vat meat,’ he said. ‘Grown in a company lab. A lot of stuff in fairyland is manufactured like that. You hadn’t picked up on that yet?’
She shook her head.
He took another bite of his burger. ‘Population of about a billion,’ he said, ‘it’s so much more efficient to make stuff in vats than waste the land on cows. Most of the farmland there is mostly goes to fruit, vegetables, orchards, that kind of thing, and specialised animals that aren’t grown for food, ones that are grown for like, wool or feathers or whatever – and even then, organic fabrics are a niche industry.’
She poked her burger. ‘It’s future-y, I should like it.’
He broke off a chunk of brikni and leaned across the table. ‘Open.’
She opened and he dropped the orange-sauced chunk in her mouth – and he was glad she didn’t make an attempt to bite his fingers off. ‘Chew and swallow.’
She chewed, and swallowed.
‘Still like it?’
She nodded.
‘It’s made of the same stuff your burger is, so shut up and eat your science burger,’ he said with a wink.
She nodded as she reconstructed her burger. ‘Yessir.’
They ate in silence for a few minutes.
Memories stirred and old pain surfaced.
‘The agent who-’ he started as he upended his chips onto the tray and squirted sauce onto them. ‘Once he realised that unless he just killed me, I was stuck being a recruit. I did all the tests and passed. I probably could have gone combat if I’d pushed, but I didn’t want to chance the mortality rate, that’s why I’m field. I’m glad I did that, I don’t think my life- It wouldn’t be- My life would be shit if I was anywhere else.’
She gave him a little nod.
‘He wanted to prove me unsuitable. He- I had to last a month in Fairyland. Provisions were put in place so I couldn’t cheat and come back up.’ Provisions. A nice way of putting it. A nice way of saying “bomb in brain”. ‘He got me some shitty hotel room, like the one we used, gave me enough money to ensure I’d stay just this side of starving, and yeah.’ He cast his eyes down onto the table, went quiet for a long moment. ‘You’re my only friend, Stef.’
‘What about-’
‘You’re my only friend,’ he said again, ‘and I need to get this off my chest to someone, I need to-’
She stood, walked around to the other side of the booth and slid in beside him. ‘Talk, padawan.’
He picked up a chip and tapped it against the table, leaving little sauce stains. Red sauce. Red stains. Blood. He looked down at her, trying not to see her covered in blood, trying not to see her in pain. He tossed the chip back into the pile, and looked away from it.
‘He wanted proof that I could change. Proof that it was worth his while to leave me down here. He took me to a place like Carmichael’s, but not as nice, got me a girl and watched. I mean, what’s more proof of a change than letting a fairy be intimate with me? Wild fairy too, and not wild like- Not the good in bed way. The kind with teeth, and claws and a real mean streak.’
The fairy’s black and blue skin had been alluring at first, exotic. She’d been beautiful, a world away from the monsters they’d always shown him. The teeth showed themselves when she’d smiled. The claws had come out when the agent had ordered him to take off his shirt and expose his tattoo.
The skin was camouflage, the claws were to catch and kill, and the teeth were to tear flesh from bone. Wild fairies still hunted, still preferred to eat their food raw. It made them cruel. It gave them pleasure in hurting people. It-
‘Most humiliating experience of my life. She knew what I was, and showed me no mercy for wanting to change.’ He unbuttoned his cuff and rolled up his sleeve to the elbow, and showed her three thin scars.
There’d been so much blood, for such a shallow cut, for a wound that turned into a barely noticeable scar, it had bled like a mortal wound. And she’d laughed at his pain. Laughed harder when she’d sterilised it with liquor and he’d cried.
‘Everything else healed, but this left a mark.’ He rolled his sleeve back down, buttoned and rolled his drink between his hands, slicking his hands with the condensation. It wouldn’t wash away the memory, but it gave his mind another sensation to focus on.
‘I couldn’t get it up. Between the two of them. The insults, the judging. My- I think the relevant parts just tried to retract into my body out of some sense of self-preservation instinct.’
He took her hand, but didn’t look at her. ‘They drugged me so I could…perform. He was staring at me the whole time. Just…staring. I can’t even remember the sex, not really.’ A lie, but easier than trying to explain to her the lack of passion, the utilitarian way in which he’d been fucked. It wasn’t worth remembering.
‘When she was done, she left me tied to the bed, then went and fucked him.’ She had enjoyed the agent a lot more, and the agent had demanded he watch. The fairy had shown her passion then, screaming and moaning, laughing, parroting whatever the agent demanded. It had been open, pornographic sex, showing him what he hadn’t gotten, what he wasn’t worth.
He bit the inside of his cheek. He flexed and splayed his spare hand against the edge of the table. ‘It wasn’t rape,’ he said. ‘I knew what I was getting into, and I agreed, and she probably would have stopped if I’d said anything, but it wasn’t- Sex isn’t supposed to be like that. If that’s your kink then fine, but then you’re enjoying it, not lying there, hating every single second of it. It was his test, and I passed, so because of it I got everything I have now, but-‘
He heard her breath catch.
This was it. It was over. She was going to get up, and walk out of his life. Like he deserved, like he deserved, because he was-
She shifted a little beside him, and he fought the urge to reach out, to grab her, to beg her to stay.
She was going to leave, and he deserved it. He deserved it.
He was still holding onto her hand. It was the reason she hadn’t moved. Obviously. He was holding there, holding her prisoner. He jerked his fingers straight and pulled his hand away. He moved along the booth seat, putting a bit of distance between them, so she knew she was free to leave,
She was still there, he could hear her breathing.
‘Go,’ he said hoarsely.
There was no need to drag it out. No reason to-
‘Just get the fuck away from me, Stef.’
He cherished the attempt at anger, it would keep him strong until she as gone, keep the emotion back long enough so that-
‘You don’t want me to leave.’
‘Go.’
‘When do we get to the part where you shut up and put your head in my lap?’
‘Huh?’
She grabbed his head and pulled him sideways, forcing his head down. He struggled. ‘Stop it!’ he said. ‘It’ll look like I’m going down on you.’
‘You are going down on me,’ she said. ‘Head. Lap. Now.’
He stopped struggling – struggling would make more of a scene than the one they were going to make. It was Fairyland, and public sex – or the impression of such – was usually no more than an informal warning, screaming or arguing in a restaurant, however, could result in them getting kicked out.
He adjusted himself, pulling his head away from the edge of the table, and stared up at her. She wasn’t supposed to comfort him. He wanted it. He didn’t deserve it. He-
‘Stop glaring at me,’ she said.
He made an effort to soften his expression.
‘Now,’ she said, ‘do you want me to leave?’
He shook his head.
‘So why say it?’
‘I knew if there was one story that would push you away,’ he said, ‘it would be that. You shouldn’t- I’m damaged goods, Stef.‘
‘Who isn’t? Ryan’s messed up about Carol, and has been for nearly as long as we’ve been alive. Taylor wanders around imitating Trogdor because he can’t feel feelings. I’m crazy. At least you know what’s messing you up, and the fact that you can vocalise it, that you can talk about it, even a little, means you have a really good shot of getting over it. Part of it will be there forever, of course, but maybe you won’t have to hate yourself forever.’
‘I don’t-‘ he stopped. ‘I do, don’t I?’
‘You do. A lot.’
‘But I’m-‘
‘Even realising it helps a bit. But you shouldn’t. You’re good.’ She poked his chest with her pointer finger. ‘You are, trust me.’
‘I-‘
‘Let it go for now, just keep it in mind, ok?’
‘I needed- That part was important so you could get an idea of- It’s because of what happened there that I met Carmichael.’
She gave him a nod.
‘After-’ He shrugged against her legs. ‘After. He dropped me back at the hotel room and left. I finally got cleaned up, dressed my cuts, then I just sat around. Didn’t want to do anything, didn’t know where anything was, wasn’t even grateful I was alive. I was just-‘
‘Just sitting there existing?’ she asked.
‘Pretty much, yeah. I think I ate that night, but I’m not sure. Next day I turned the TV on, figured out how to order from the food channel. Just sat and ate and, gods, I wanted to get drunk, but I knew I had to budget the pittance he gave me.’
She nodded, and started to play with his hair. It was relaxing, even if she only seemed to do it to keep her hands busy. It was comforting, and even if he didn’t deserve it, it was too nice to argue with.
‘Fourth or fifth day, I had a shower, got changed, tried to take a walk around the place. Was on the edge of the city, so there wasn’t much to see. Found a park, sat, tried to keep out of everyone’s way. Just sat and watched it all go by, trying to draw attention to myself, trying to figure out what the fuck the Solstice have against the fae when most of them are just people stuck with shit jobs and shit lives like everyone else. It’s not like the human race has a patent on crappy existences.’
He reached up and grabbed his box of aole. ‘Got dark, and I got hungry, so I tried to head back to the hotel, but I got lost, just walked around and around because I wasn’t’ gonna ask anyone for directions. Heard a fight, tried to ignore it, but it sounded like an unfair fight, so I went to have a look.’
‘Carmichael?’
He nodded. ‘In a seriously one-sided fight. Did you get a good look at his wings?’
She nodded.
‘All that gold you saw, that was because of this fight. That’s how much of his wings had to be replaced. Him fighting…six, I think, guys. A couple of other fairies, and some random fae. I only took enough notice to hurt them.’
‘How’d you know he didn’t deserve it?’
‘He didn’t look like he deserved it. We managed to beat enough of them down to scare the others off, then I dumped us into a cab and we went back to the hotel room. Didn’t want to risk a real doctor, and my first aid is good enough. He got lucid enough to shrink down his wings so the bleeding wasn’t dangerous, he let me bandage everything else, then he fell asleep without even thanking me.’
He chewed on the aole. ‘He only slept for a couple of hours, and woke up paranoid and swinging – tried to take me out with the lamp cord before I got him to calm down. He told me who he was, what he did, and then pretty much indebted himself to me. It was worth a lot more, apparently, because I’d saved him without hope of reward, or knowledge of who he was.’
She was still playing with his hair. It was absurd how relaxing it was. How good it felt to lie in her lap, to just be close to someone for reasons other than a Rose Room quickie.
‘First thing he did was get us a real doctor, then we went back to his place and he finally asked who I was, what I was doing, if I wanted a job, that kind of stuff. Almost said yes to the job, but I knew the agent would come after me, or get some grey-listed fae to off me, so I declined. He offered me a better hotel, I declined, terms were that I had to sleep in that shit hole. He offered me new clothes, that I was grateful for, since I’d had to rip up most of my stuff for bandages. New wardrobe, and a couple of real nice suits. Tailored, not off the rack.’
‘I like a good suit,’ she said with a smile. ‘Show me when we get back home?’
‘They’re not back at the Agency,’ he said.
‘Oh man, do not tell me you got rid-‘
‘They’re at my place.’ He tried to sit up, but he couldn’t muster the will to leave the safety of her lap. ‘I didn’t need a job, I couldn’t use a car, a massive amount of fairy gold would do me no good, so he gave me an apartment. It’s only like a studio, but it’s mine. I’ve only used it a few nights total, but it’s in a building he owns, so it’s maintained, and I have a foothold in fairyland if they ever decide to close their borders. It’s not citizenship, but property ownership also means a great deal.’
Her fingers were tapping on his head now. No. Typing. She was using his head as an imaginary keyboard.
‘And-‘ he started.
‘And,’ she interrupted, ‘you’re about to use your serious voice and tell me that the Agency doesn’t know and that I should keep it a secret.’
He smiled. ‘Yeah.’
‘Can I see it?’
‘Not today, but yeah. When the world is saved-‘
‘Thanks to the Powerpuff Girls!’ she said.
‘I am not a Powerpuff Girl.’
‘See? You already think you’re gonna save the day, you can’t be that bad.’
‘That’s stupid trickery and you know it.’
‘The world runs on stupid trickery.’
‘Not today,’ he said again. ‘but sure.’
‘And if the world blows up?’
‘Then we wait. For fifty trillion years for every life form to die out, for Chaos to come back, live out his life, die again, restart the universe, and the whole of history and creation happen all over, until we’re sitting right here again, and then I’ll say, “sure, let’s do it today”.’
She looked stunned for a moment. ‘I think that may be the most epic thing anyone has ever said to me.’
His phone buzzed and he sat up. He unlocked it, and opened the alert, saw a countdown and two options. He grinned, and hit accept. ‘Guess who gets to go to see a palace?’
‘I’ve only got like three and half hours until I have to be out of fairyland, or in the Marches on the way out at the very least.’
‘I got us tickets on an express,’ he said. He waved the phone. ‘This is an app for one of those last-minute ticket deal sites. There’s a bus that stops here, then goes directly to the Marches, it’ll be a longer walk out than the Terminus, but the trip only takes just over an hour. They’ve just had a couple of cancellations and I snagged the seats. We can’t do the tour, but you can at least see the damn place and hit up the gift shop.’
She looked almost ready to cry. ‘Thank you.’
He kissed the top of her head, and gave her a slight shove. ‘Come on, sooner we leave, the more time you have.’
She stood and grabbed her drink. He tossed the box of aole into his bag and straightened his suit before crooking his arm to her. ‘Come on, you’ll like this part.’
They walked out the back door of the Fry’s, across a small street and to a paved square, containing a couple of fruit trees and a half dozen benches. ‘You’ve never been to the city before,’ he said as he took his arm away, ‘so you probably haven’t noticed this. I’m going to see if you can work it out.’
She turned in a slow circle, then shrugged.
‘Try looking down, newbie.’
She gave him a wary look, then did as instructed. She let out a small gasp of surprise as she saw that she was standing on the intersection of a eight coloured paths. ‘Ok, pretty, but I don’t get it.’
‘They’re guide paths,’ he said, ‘they each lead to a different part of the city, or to a different landmark.’
She jumped from one to the next to the next, before landing on the yellow one and stopping dead. She looked up at him. ‘No.’
He couldn’t hold back a smile. ‘Yes.’
‘No way!’
‘Way.’
She took a couple of small, careful steps along the yellow-painted stones. ‘Follow the yellow brick road? Seriously?’
He walked ahead of her. ‘Are you coming or not?’
‘Are we skipping?’
‘We are definitely not.’
The palace loomed on a hill, high above set apart from the high glass and steel towers of the city, the image from a fairy tale.
‘Hook,’ Stef said suddenly.
‘Huh?’
She looked over to Curt. ‘It was Hook.’
‘Full sentences, newbie,’ Curt said as he chewed on some leftover aole.
‘It as Hook that told me about Nonsuch, I didn’t remember that until now.’ His face was still blank. ‘Captain Hook?’ she prompted, forming a curve with her fingers.
‘Captain Hook? Like, the pirate?’
‘Like there’s another. He was my Court of the Lost-appointed imaginary friend when I was a kid.’
This made him nod. ‘Saying that part at the beginning would have helped.’
She poked out her tongue. ‘Yeah, but I like confusing you.’
‘Nerd.’
‘Trekkie!’
‘My favourite Doctor is Bones.’
This made her stop and grin. ‘Padawan, you’re learning. Plus one to your geek.’
‘You needed one of the Lost though?’ he asked. ‘I don’t know much about them, but I thought they-‘
‘I was ignored,’ she said, ‘not abused.’
‘Still-‘
‘I never wanted for anything. I never knew what it was like to be hungry or cold or worried for the roof over my head. I had everything I could ask for, and more. Most people have it so much worse, so I’m not going to pine for the things I didn’t have. Besides Ryan is doing an exceptional job at making up for a lifetime of not having loving parents, and I know damn well he wouldn’t leave a five-year-old in Kensington Gardens for six hours by themselves, so I think everything worked out for the best. ‘
‘Stef-‘
‘If you keep dawdling,’ she said, ‘I’m not going to get to see anything.’
‘Yes ma’am.’
‘Stop ma’am’ing me.’ She poked him in the arm. ‘And if you go “yes ma’am” to that, I am-‘
‘You’re going to what, ma’am?’
‘Plan very, very strange revenge. Be scared.’
‘Stef?’
‘Yeah?’
‘You going to focus on enjoying this?’
They walked up the long, winding garden path, and into the building. Tour tickets and the gift shop lay in front of them, a roped-off area to the left, for those taking the tour, and a long wing to the right that could be viewed without tour tickets.
‘Go have a look down that way,’ he said, ‘I just want to go to the gift shop, you can go next time, when we do a tour.’
She gave him a nod, and began to wander down the wing. Portraits and tapestries hung on the wall, all carefully labelled. On the lower section of the wall was a running history, describing the real Nonsuch and the one she was standing in.
She stared out the window, at the rain that was determined to stop the from having an adventure.
’I’m sorry, dear one,’ Hook said as he drew treasure in the condensation on the window. ‘Piracy will have to wait for another day.’
’Tell me a story instead!’,
‘What kind of story?’
‘One I haven’t heard before.’
He lit his pipe. ‘I think I know just the one.’
She stared at the wall, at the detail, the centuries of wear and care. A Tudor palace, the Fairies’ palace, there was so much power and history running through the building that it was almost intimidating. She looked back towards the gift shop, saw Curt lost in a sea of fae, and moved on to the next section of wall, reaching out to touch it when she was sure no one was looking. She held back a squee as she laid her hand flat against the wall. Half-remembered stories that Hook had told her inspired the awe, but the reality took her breath away.
There was a balcony to her right, this part of the palace looked newer – different materials, a slightly different design, an addition made sometime in the last few hundred years. There was a crowd gathered on the balcony, far too excited to be a tour group. She stared at them for a moment, their jubilance and excitement familiar, but it took some of them chanting a name until their identity crystallised in her mind: fangirls.
They all started to shriek the name – something fairy or fae that she couldn’t make out, and waved their phones around, snapping photos and shouting for autographs. She watched them for a moment, before getting bored.
A flutter focused her attention again, and she immediately looked for the source.
The sound was familiar, but she’d never heard it.
Wings.
The crowd pressed in on the man, and she saw the tips of white wings above the fairies and the fae.
She watched, trying to see more of the wings, trying to see who was connected to them, but the crowd of fangirls kept his identity shielded until they started to disperse. Soon, the crowd was gone, sated with photos and autographs. The fairy, alone with a palace guidebook, started to turn towards the edge of the balcony, but stopped as he spotted her. She saw him give a quick sigh. ‘Come on, I’ve got time for one more autograph, give me your phone.’
‘Um,’ she said as she approached.
The wings were flat-out gorgeous. Big, fluffy, strong, and in impeccable condition, compared to Taylor’s one-winged-angel moment. One bloodied-winged-angel moment.
‘Come on, come on, I don’t have-‘ He looked down at her and saw her universe. ‘Oh.’ He flared his wings and she jumped back a little. ‘You’re here for these, not for me. Do you want to touch them?’
She reached a hand for the closest wing.
‘GET. THE. FUCK. AWAY. FROM. HER.’
Curt’s voice. Angry. Savage. Taylorish. There was a yank on her vest, as Curt pulled her away from the angel-winged man.
The man looked insulted. ‘These were given freely, young man.’
‘They always are,’ Curt growled as he pulled her further from the fairy.
‘And my preference is not for newborn wings, I want ones that have flown.’ The man stared down at her and smiled in a way that made her stomach turn. ‘But I could make an exception.’
‘Turn around, newbie, and walk.’ She turned and walked towards the exit.
Once she was on the gate path, she hesitated and looked back. Curt came storming out of the door and pointed toward the gate. ‘Keep walking.’
She kept pace with him, nearly running to keep up with his long strides. Only once out of the palace grounds did he even start to relax.
‘Hey-‘
He shook his head and pointed to a small green area with one of the converging circles for all of the coloured paths. ‘Over there.’ She kept quiet as they walked back down the yellow-lined footpath to the green space, then they took one of the unused picnic tables. He nearly threw the brown gift shop bag onto the table, and sat, hands balled into fists.
She sat across from him, and waited for him to speak.
After a moment, his fists unclenched and he looked up, stress still obvious in his expression. ‘I didn’t hurt you, did I?’
‘Surprised me a little,’ she said, ‘but you didn’t hurt me.’
This seemed to relieve him a bit. ‘Good.’
‘Is this the explanation bit?’
‘You saw his wings.’
‘Yeah.’
‘They would have been ripped out of an agent for him. Guys like that are- I’m struggling to put this gently, but I can’t. They’re fucking scum, Stef.’
‘He said they were given-‘
‘Agents have to choose to grow their wings. You can’t force it, it has to be a conscious choice. You can force them with torture, and drugs, and all kinds of cruelty, but in the end, they have to decide to grow them. It’s coercion, it’s violation, and most of the time, they kill the agent afterwards. Angel wings are so rare, they’re a status symbol, that guy you saw, he’s like the Prince of fairies-‘
‘You yelled at royalty?’
‘Like the musician, newbie.’
‘Oh. Sorry.’
‘Guys who have one pair are more likely to want another pair, because of all the offers they would have had on their own. You can’t begin to imagine what they’re worth. Favour beyond compare, power within a Court, millions upon millions if you’re just after cash.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, ‘I had no idea. I just wanted to look. The only pair I’ve ever seen were Taylor’s, and they weren’t pretty.’
‘So when we go home, we’ll boot up a training sim and you can stare at a pair as long as you want.’ He let out a long breath. ‘Sorry this all got screwed up. Soon as we can, we’ll come back, and do the proper tour.’
‘Unless we all die, first.’
‘Unless we all die first,’ he said. ‘Sorry. Really sorry, Stef.’
‘I already forgave you. Show me what’s in the bag and I’ll doubleplus forgive you?’
This seemed to shake him out of his funk. He grabbed the brown bag and began to pull items out of it. The first was an oversized history book. ‘Least you’ll have something to read on the trip back.’
‘Thank you.’
He stared into the bag. ‘Ok, shut up and give me a chance to explain these before you say anything.’
He pulled out a toy crown and a fake magic wand.
‘Cute.’
He stood, rounded the picnic table and placed the plastic crown on her head. ‘I dub thee Princess Stef,’ he said as he gave her a light bap on the head. There was a tingly sensation over her skin, and a flash of light.
She stood and stared down at herself. Overlaid on her uniform was a see-through image of a fancy dress. She reached a hand to touch the holographic fabric, but felt only the tingle again.
‘During the tour it’s interactive, changes to match the outfits in the paintings, outside of the palace though, there’s only like three or four options.’ He handed her the wand. ‘I knew the crown was a bit of a risk, but you should like this.’
She took the wand and waved it. Nothing happened.
‘Try turning it on first, newbie.’
She stared at the plastic, star-headed wand and pressed down on the biggest jewel. It lit up, played a small music clip, and began to glow. She looked to him, and he nodded.
She gave it an experimental wave, and a blue trail of shapes hung in the air for a moment after each movement.
‘IRL particle effects!’
Non-geek confusion returned to his face. ‘Is that good?’
She waved the wand around. ‘Better than good. Requiring is fun, but I sometimes wish it was a little bit less incognito. Apparently you can mod your requirements to make them fancier, but I don’t want to chance it, seems like it’s got great potential for Clarke to yell at me about being a bad agent, and I don’t want to give him reason to give me an even worse mark on my next evaluation.’
‘He gets a say in that?’
‘I thought you read my experiment parameters.’
‘Some of it is above my clearance level.’ He took the wand and unscrewed the bottom, pouring candy into her hand. ‘When’s your next evaluation?’
‘At six months. There’s one every month, technically, but the next one that counts is at six months, then one year, then every year after that, unless they’re given reason to bring me in for a review.’
‘I know you did it to draw suspicion away from Ryan, but I think Clarke is vindictive enough to use our fake relationship against you.’
‘Probably, but I can always claim I’m helping rehabilitate you. So, are we heading back to the bus stop now?’
He gave a shrug. ‘Sorry. There’s not much else we can do in the time we’ve got left. You’ll get to see the transit centre at least.’ He put the book bag into the paper bag and plucked the crown from her head.
‘I could have been a princess,’ she said as he packed the crown away, ‘but it didn’t work out.’
‘Oh?’
‘For real,’ she said.
‘Feeling like sharing?’ he asked as they started along the red-lined path.
‘I met a prince once. The short-short version is he needed a beard.’
‘Didn’t want in on a sham marriage?’
‘No, the sham part I was ok with.’
‘So what happened then?’
She shrugged. ‘It didn’t work out. Still came close. I like being an agent better though.’
‘If-‘
‘Is this what the end of the world is like?’ she asked. ‘Ignoring it and just having regular conversations?’
He took her hand as they crossed the street. ‘Are you scared?’
‘Of course I am.’
‘There is, at best, a fifty per cent chance of the end of the world. The other option is a massively changed world. Worst case scenario is the world at large finds out about magic and everything turns to shit. If that happens, the answer is simple, we run here before they close the borders.’
‘I was just starting to like the world,’ she said. ‘Just. And it has my stuff in it. I don’t think I’ve ever said this, but I don’t want the world to end.’
‘Most people don’t,’ he said. ‘We’re not going to sit by and just let it happen. And don’t forget, the Solstice got into this to save the world, not to destroy it, so that’s a big factor in all of this. Blue Earth could be a problem though, even if they’re a bit of a joke.’ He let her hand go and pointed. ‘Missing out on the palace does mean you’ve got time to go get candy.’
She followed his point and saw the shop with the gingerbread-façade, and felt herself smile.
‘I have a favour to ask first,’ he said.
‘Ask.’
‘I want to go Contingency 32 my daughter.’
‘Ok.’
‘You’re not going to argue or ask questions or-‘
‘Of course I’m not,’ she said, ‘soon as we get back up, we’ll shift down, it shouldn’t take long to do, I’ll agent-wiki the instructions and then we won’t even have to go through Jonesy to get it done. Everything’s getting rubber-stamped anyway, and I’m pretty sure everyone else will be doing the same for their non-Agency family members.’
‘Thank you, I mean it, truly, thank you.’
‘Hey, what are friends for?’ She paused. ‘Is this the kind of situation that you use that phrase? Is it supposed to be an actual question or a declarative? Is-‘
‘You’re overthinking it. Yes, the right timing, and yes it’s a question.’
‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I’ve never actually used it before.’
‘You’re doing fine, Stef. Candy?’
‘Candy!’
Ryan knocked on the door. He focused on the small new experience, he’d been to the apartment dozens of times, nearly lived there the month Stef had been in suspension, and back and forth as much as he could in the small amount of time Carol had been back. So much time spent in the flat, but never once entering or leaving by the front door.
Carol opened the door. If he’d held out any hope for the situation, he would have taken it as a good sign. Hope was gone, and it was more cathartic than he could have imagined. There’d been no time to grieve for all the time lost, to take in what he’d done with Vink, how it had flown in the face of remaining faithful for two decades. No time to process just how much he’d enjoyed it. Any other circumstances, and he knew it would have taken weeks, even months to adjust.
The threat of the phoenixes had somehow crystallised everything. Over a hundred years of life, and there had been less than a handful of times he’d had to experience a threat like that, and with the fear, it brought clarity.
‘May I come in?’
Blue eyes glared at him, but she stepped to the side, and let him walk into the apartment. The radio was playing softly, and there was the smell of something cooking. Soup. Her comfort food.
‘I’d like to talk to you.’
‘That’s what you used to say when a recruit was in trouble.’
He walked into the living room and required a simple chair for himself and sat. She stalled in the kitchen for a moment, the sound of bubbling soup and clinking herb bottles mixing with the radio. After a couple of minutes, she sat on the couch, wiping her hands on a paper towel.
‘I truly did love you,’ he said.
This broke her resolve a little, and her hardened expression cracked a little. ‘I know,’ she said, ‘that’s what makes all of this so hard.’
‘I have a blind spot when it comes to my romantic relationships. It’s why I blamed myself for Eilise’s unhappiness, and it’s why I thought you were happy. I never meant to hurt you.’
‘You gave me the world,’ she said, staring down at her hands. ‘Dresses and jewels and Paris and fine dining. You were James Bond and a millionaire and everything a girl could ask for.’
‘Just not you.’
‘It was the Agency,’ she said, ‘more than you, but everything you are, is Agency. It was exciting, but then it was terrifying. All the death, all the danger, all of the secrets, and I can’t imagine that it’s gotten better over time. That wasn’t the life I wanted for myself. I wanted to be able to leave my job at the end of the day, and go home to a husband, make love, plan for the future, have a glass of wine and just relax.’
‘We could have done that.’
‘No,’ she said, ‘we couldn’t. We tried. You told me yourself, you separated Alex and Eilise from your Agency life and they barely saw you. There’s no point of delineation between life and work when you’re Agency. Even off-hours aren’t guaranteed, because an emergency can happen at any time. Work at the Agency, live at the Agency, it consumes your whole life. Every conversation becomes work, or policy or fae.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ she said, and she gave him a small smile. ‘By the gods, you are a good agent.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because you loved me so much,’ she said. ‘And you hadn’t done anything wrong, and it’s always hardest to break up like that, I wanted to put off feeling like the bad guy. I wanted to see if I could adjust, if I could get used to Agency life, but I couldn’t, and then it was too late.’
‘I told you that you’d be an agent, you must have known what that would mean.’
‘Any life,’ she said, ‘is better than none. I wasn’t even thirty, I didn’t want to die, Ryan. People my age don’t die, and they’re not shot and left to bleed out alone.’
‘I could have transferred you-‘
‘It would have been the same anywhere. Here, at least I had you, I may have resented the life you trapped me in, but it was better than being alone.’
‘It doesn’t comfort me,’ he said, ‘to know I was the lesser of two evils.’
‘That’s why I was going to leave,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to cause you more pain.’
He looked across at her. ‘Where would you have gone?’
‘I was owed a favour by one of the Liars’ courtiers,’ she said, ‘it’s a good place to start a new life.’
‘New life,’ he said, ‘that’s why I’m here.’
She looked intrigued, but said nothing.
‘You don’t want be here, you have no reason to be here, and there’s nothing but bad memories. I want to give you a fresh start, and I hope it can make up for some of the grief I’ve caused you.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You can go, and not look back, you can have the life you wanted.’
‘I’ve been out of the world for twenty years, the little time I’ve had to adjust-‘ she began to argue.
‘You won’t be alone. I’ve enlisted the services of someone who is used to being a step out of time. It cost me little in comparison to the chance it’ll give you. He’ll be your guide for as long as you need until you feel you’re ready to go your own way. Papers will take a while, he will organise something through one of the courts – claim some small strain of fae heritage, the less I know, the better. That will get you’ll get recorded in the Agency system as another person. I’ve checked, the random sweeps don’t look for you. Unless you run into an agent who knows who you are, and has reason to doubt your new identity – which frankly, would be no one other than Taylor – you’ll be invisible to the Agency, and you’ll have nothing to fear.’
‘You’d do that for me?’
‘I already have,’ he said, ‘he’s downstairs, waiting. This flat is yours, should you decide to come back-‘
‘No,’ she said, ‘I won’t need it. A new life is a new life, no looking back.’
‘As you wish.’
‘I loved you too,’ she said. She stood, walked across to him, bent, and kissed him on the cheek. ‘I’m sorry that- I’m sorry, and I do hope that you find someone.’
He stood, and embraced her for a moment. ‘Goodbye.’
‘Thank you,’ she said again, wiping away a few small tears. ‘Thank you.’
He opened the door with a requirement, and pointed. ‘His name is Dorian, he’ll know you.’
She smiled, squeezed his hand for a moment, then walked out of the apartment. Out of his life.
He felt wetness on his cheeks as he walked across to close and lock the door. He made no attempt to stop his tears, to adjust his emotional output settings, or to wipe them away. They would help with the catharsis, help with adjusting to so many things at once. Thoughts, formed and half-formed spun through his mind as he went back to the living room, and sat on the couch.
Dorian had been easy to convince. His demands had been reasonable, given the circumstances, given the service he could offer. The only question he had asked after being told the situation had been “is she pretty?” and that simple to answer.
It was over.
There was a soft ping in his HUD as Stef came back into a system area. Stef, who he wouldn’t have without Carol’s death. Stef, who made all the pain and grief and loneliness worth it. So much lost, but so much gained in exchange.
He wiped away his tears, refreshed his face and opened up a communications window. [Welcome back.]
Her face appeared in the window. [Hi!]
[How did it all go?]
[He’s working for us,] she said. [Is there anything that we need to do straight away?]
[Jones could use some help generating and coordinating the birds, but it can wait, why?]
[Do you want the truth or a lie?]
[Stef.]
She shuffled nervously for a second. [Is it bad to Contingency 32 someone a bit early?]
[Curt’s daughter?]
[Bingo.]
[Hold out your hands.]
[K!]
He made a long-range requirement, and sent a bag of specially-formulated blue into her hands. [That’s all you’ll need for a child. Probably easiest to make her drink it, otherwise, use an IV.]
[You’re not mad?]
He shook his head. [Darren has turned his Outpost into a centre for getting family members processed. It would be counter-productive to stop it. Just head back when you’re done, I’ll need Curt’s help getting the agenda done for tomorrow.]
[Yessir.]
[I love you, Stef.]
Her face turned serious. [Are you ok?]
[Of course.]
[Na-uh, don’t lie to me. What’s wrong?]
[We can talk later.]
[At least tell me on a scale of one to apocalypse?]
[I broke up with Carol, but it’s for the best.]
[Is this my fault?]
[No, it was over before you could speak in full sentences, it’s not your fault.]
[You just made me feel really, really young.]
He took on an overly stern look. [Just be home before curfew, young lady.]
[Eep. Yessir.]
[Love you, Stef.]
[Love you, dad. We’ll be home soon. Bye!]
She gave him a wave, and he broke the connection.
One child was safe, as safe as someone could be, given the situation; one was not.
He shifted before he could give into his second, third, fourth thoughts. Give in to all of the reasoning that told him it was a bad idea. Give in to all of the previous experience.
For the second time in half an hour, he raised a hand to knock on a door. Alexander’s door. The door of a place he wasn’t welcome.
There were running footsteps, and the door was flung open. A young girl stared up at him, confused – he obviously wasn't who she was expecting. A lump formed in his throat as he stared down at his granddaughter. Height, it seemed, was genetic. Alexander was as tall as he was, and the girl was taking after the both of them.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked, hand on the door.
‘Could I speak with your father, please,’ he said, modifying his emotional output just a little, so that the tears didn’t slip through, and so that he could keep sounding professional.
‘Sure.’ She turned her head to look down the hall. ‘DA-AD!’
‘Coming sweetheart,’ Alexander called. ‘Who is it?’
Mary-Anne looked back at him. ‘Who are you?’
He wanted to tell her the truth, but common sense prevailed. ‘I’m an acquaintance of-‘
‘Could you stir dinner, Annie?’ Alex said as he came down the hall.
‘Sure,’ she said and wandered away without another word.
Alex gave him a shove and pulled the door closed behind him, locking them out of the house. ‘You know you aren’t welcome here, Ryan.’
‘Alex, you have to listen to me.’
‘She’s seen you now,’ Alex said, ‘that is the last thing I wanted.’
‘You left me alone for so long, now twice in a year? What do you even want?’
‘To warn you.’
Alexander frowned. ‘If it has anything to do with your world, then it has nothing to do with mine.’ He turned to go back into the house. ‘Now if you-‘
He grabbed his son by the shoulder and shifted.
The Agency roof came into view as the world became clear, as did his son’s rage. ‘How dare you do that to me?! My daughter is home alone!’
‘I need two minutes of your time, that’s all.’
‘I don’t want to talk to you!’
‘There’s a chance the world could end.’
‘So why aren’t you telling the media?’
‘Because fear and panic could do a better job of destroying everything.’
‘Take me home. Now.’
‘Against one way this could happen,’ he pushed, ‘we have no defence. Against the other though, we do. Those that are magic will be saved. I just want-‘
‘I’m not magic, and neither is my family, and we don’t want to be.’
‘It could save your lives.’
‘Ryan, you-‘
‘Your daughter is twelve,’ he said, ‘is a life that short what you’d wish on her?’
This seemed to strike a nerve, and parental concern overtook some of the rage. ‘What’s the cost?’
‘Nothing, Alexander, nothing, I’m just trying to protect you, like I always-‘
‘No, no speeches, please. How long do I have to decide?’
‘There is nothing as convenient as a ticking bomb to tell us how much time we have left. It could be in a minute, or in a month, or – if we’re successful – never, but if you wait, it could be too late. I can’t guarantee that once it starts, I’d be able to get to you.’
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Alex-‘
‘I’ll think about it,’ Alexander snapped. ‘It’s concession enough that I’m considering it, Ryan. Give me one of those damn cards you’re always trying to leave with me.’
He required a business card and handed it over without a word.
‘If I do,’ Alexander said, ‘and big if, by the way. It won’t make you a part of our lives. I still don’t want you around, and I sure as hell don’t want you near Annie, I want magic to stay in Disney movies for her.’
‘Shouldn’t she get to decide that? You got to decide for yourself, though your mother certainly-‘
‘My mother knew what she was talking about. She still does. And, actually, we’re expecting them for dinner, so if you don’t teleport me-‘
‘Shift,’ he corrected.
‘Whatever. Send me back home now, you’re going to ruin my family dinner.’
‘You have my card,’ he said, and shifted his son away.
‘We can circle around the block one more time if you like,’ Stef said as they drove past the house again.
He stared out the windscreen. ‘Six times. It already looks suspicious.’
She boggled at him. ‘You required a different car each time we went around, it’s not suspicious.’
He pulled over at the end of the street and parked. ‘No, it’s only delaying the inevitable. You sure this is the place?’
‘It’s the address the day care had on file.’ She held up the copy of the file she’d required. ‘So it’s a place to start at least.’
‘Ok,’ he said. ‘Yeah. Ok.’ He put his hand on the door, then hesitated before looking over at her. ‘Legolas, what do your elf-eyes see?’
‘And you are not a geek how?‘
‘Everyone saw Lord of the Rings,’ he said in a huff. ‘And the techs are always shouting that at Jones, I’m quite observant.’
‘I’ve observed,’ she said with a smirk. ‘And seriously, call him Jonesy, how can you be scared of someone named Jonesy? And don’t make the argument that Jonesy was the cat in Alien; otherwise I’m going to have to think about the fact that someone has actually designed an acid-blood system for agents as a defence mechanism. And now I’m thinking about it. And who ever thought that was a good idea. I know it’s not implemented, but it’s stupider than the mer-agent! Acid blood is not civilian friendly! Imagine the collateral damage from paper cuts!’
He gave her a sideways glance. ‘I thought I was supposed to be the stressed out one.’
‘The more I stress, the more you go into big-brother mode and the calmer you get.’
‘…that’s evil, newbie.’
‘Yes, I am,’ she said with a grin before putting her forehead against the window and looking back to the house. She opened up the visual overlays menu in her HUD and hit the one she’d bookmarked as “Superman!” and initialised it. The world turned blue as the pseudo-x-ray vision took over. The trees flexed for a moment, then went still, expandable options to take closer scans appearing, the parked cars did the same. The house became see-through in blue relief, and she could see the blue outline of three people inside, each pulsing lightly.
‘Two guys and a kid,’ she said.
He gave a nod. ‘Ok, so we’ll call it a maybe. Let’s get this over with.’
He stepped out of the car and she followed a step behind as he opened the gate and walked up the front stairs.
She squeezed his hand for reassurance, and he knocked on the door.
The house was nice, large, high-set to catch the breezes. A blinking light caught her eye and she looked up – there was a small video camera sitting high on the wall.
Weird.
Home security, Spyder, it’s society-approved paranoia.
Alarms sure, but cameras?
There were footsteps behind the door and a familiar sound. A sound that was very much a part of Agency life.
She shoved Curt to the side a second before the shot came through the door.
The shot hit her in the collarbone, and she cancelled the automatic reaction to respawn, the damage wasn’t bad. Being in the world was far more important than disappearing to heal herself. Her repair subroutines started on the wound, the slight pain disappearing immediately. Her autopilot took over, and she kicked the door in. The door flew off its hinges and onto the shooter. She jumped and pushed the door and shooter to the ground.
Another shot came through the door, and hit her in the left hand.
So glad that’s not my gun hand any more.
The shooter struggled beneath the door, and her autopilot made her require a gun and aim it down.
Dammit.
She hit the giant red X she’d installed as soon as she’d been given the power to cancel her autopilot, and she felt her body give control back to her. No blackout zone, no way of knowing who the shooter was or why they were shooting, it wasn’t a time to shoot first and ask questions later.
She jumped up and down on the door a few times to take the fight out of them, then jumped over the end of the door, and nodded to Curt as they crouched to pick it up.
Curt dropped the door as soon as he saw the shooter. ‘Dad?’
The shooter – his father apparently – raised the gun again, but a simple requirement disappeared it from his hand.
‘What the fuck?’ the man said, looking for his gun. He jumped to his feet, and balled his fists into hands.
She jammed her gun into the back of his head. ‘Stop,’ she said. His family or not, she wasn’t going to tolerate violence.
‘You fucking shits,’ he spat. ‘How dare-‘
She wiggled her gun. ‘Settle, and stop fscking swearing at us. Old people swearing is weird. Parents swearing is weirder.’
‘They are going to kill you,’ he growled at Curt. ‘Oh, my boy, the agents will-’
‘Which agents?’ Curt demanded.
‘You know which agents, Solstice!’
‘How the fuck do you know-’ Curt started. ‘Look at what I'm wearing! I’m Agency!’
‘Liar!’
She grabbed him by the collar and yanked him so that he fell to the ground, stepped in front of him, opened her HUD and tweaked her physical display parameters. Anything that looked human disappeared, replaced with blue, pulsing and moving, showing the flow of everything that made her an agent. ‘Do we have your attention now?’ she asked, then brought back her skin.
Curt’s father just stared.
‘Agency?’
‘Yeah, well, the Solstice don’t have this tech!’ she snapped.
‘Yes,’ another voice said, ‘that’s an agent.’
She flicked her eyes away from Curt’s father to a man at the end of the hall. A fairy. Orange and silver wings spread, partially obscuring the child clinging to his back. ‘She’s an agent,’ the fairy said.
‘Don’t hurt my grandpas!’ the child screamed.
‘We’re Agency,’ Curt said. ‘I’m Agency.’
Curt’s dad focused on her. ‘Name. Agency. ID. Now.’
She pulled her ID from her pocket and flipped it open. ‘Mimosa. Brisbane. And you’d better use a nicer tone of voice with me, or I’ll go back to my first instinct and shoot you, seems only fair,’ she said, pointing at the bloody hole in her uniform, and the blood dripping from the closing wound in her hand.
‘What is he doing with you?’
Other than constantly saving my ass?
‘He’s the Aide to my Director. We can talk, but you’d better invite us in first, so we can be a bit more civil about this.’
‘Won’t you please come in,’ he said through clenched teeth.
She looked at the door, repairing it with a couple of requirements, but leaving it unlocked, then required a small in-ear earpiece into Curt’s ear. His hand jerked towards his ear, but stopped and lowered his hand.
[Thought it could be useful if we could communicate a little. You ok? One blink for yes, two blinks for no.]
Two blinks.
‘Yead,’ Curt’s father said, ‘take her downstairs?’
‘No,’ the fairy said. He took the girl from his back. ‘Go play in your room, ok?’
‘No-k.’
‘We can go to Fry’s for dinner if you do.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Sara,’ Curt’s father said. ‘Go.’
‘Ok.’
The little girl wandered away.
‘Kitchen,’ Curt’s father said. ‘No weapons.’
She looked up at Curt as they walked through the house, he looked pale, and all of his usual bravado – the real kind and the cocky-fake-kind was gone. He was blank, as close to his own form of /serious as she’d ever seen.
[It’s ok.]
Two blinks.
They walked into the kitchen. The fairy took up position near the fridge, Curt’s father sat at the bench. No chairs were offered, so she required two, and they sat.
‘You’re Agency,’ Curt’s father said. She loaded his file as they sat – Brendan O’Connor, nothing of interest, nothing of note, barely a record at all, simply giving her the option to load his civilian and governmental files.
‘How’d you know I was Solstice?’ Curt asked. ‘How long have you known?’
‘I saw you,’ Yead said, ‘you were in a raiding party. You-’
‘Why were you watching me?’ Curt snapped at the fairy.
‘I thought you were doing drugs,’ Brendan said. ‘You were missing shifts at work, you were distracted, you weren’t even trying to talk to me any more-’
‘So your idea was to have your boyfriend stalk me?’
‘You had a kid,’ Brendan said, his voice low, ‘the only grandchild I’m ever going to have, I didn’t want her in that sort of environment.’
‘What is she doing here?’
‘We adopted her,’ Brendan said, ‘her mother wanted a second chance, she didn’t want to be burdened – her words, not mine – with a child she had as a stupid teenager.’
‘No one told me.’
‘I didn’t even know if you were alive or dead. Frankly, I hoped agents had served justice.’
Curt made a move to get out of the chair.
[Don’t,] she warned. She fixed a stare on his father. ‘He’s invaluable to us.’
‘You showed up for a reason, Curt,’ Brendan said, ‘what is it?’
‘End of the world,’ Curt said, staring at the floor. ‘Phoenixes. I came to protect her against the blue one.’
‘I haven’t heard anything like that,’ Yead said. ‘And-‘
‘The Agency hasn’t even known a day, and we are doing our damn best not to incite a panic that will make this situation even worse,’ she said.
‘Give me the blue,’ Brendan said, ‘then get out. We’ll mix it in with her drinks. Yead is fine. I’ll-‘
‘I’ll require you a bag as well,’ she said. ‘Then you’ll all be covered.’ She stood, shifted the child-size bag from the car, then required an adult dosage.
‘I want to talk to her,’ Curt said.
‘And what would you say, Curt?’ Brendan asked. ‘She doesn’t know who you are. There’s no point in knowing who you are.’
Curt twitched.
She made a quick requirement, turned, grabbed Curt’s arm and shifted them back to the car. He sat in the passenger seat, motionless, his face clouded with emotion.
She looked down at the steering wheel, trepidation creeping up her spine.
Require: car start?
She jumped a little as the car started.
She pulled open her agent-wiki. [Search: commands, cmd list, cmd macros, drive, driving, autodrive, auto-drive]. She held back a grin as she found an autopilot subsection that…functioned as an autopilot.
[Input destination?] a popup promoted. She selected the option for ready-made paths, and picked the first in the list. As she clicked on it, her hands went to steering wheel and her body took over the driving. She minimised the driving overlay and turned to look at him.
‘You ok?’
He slumped against the window, and shook his head. ‘They’re going to give her the blue, she’s going to be safe.’
‘I’m sorry I pulled us out of there, but-‘
‘No,’ he said, ‘I got what I wanted. We had no reason to stay. I-’
‘We did what we came to do, you didn’t get what you wanted, that’s two very different things.’
‘I don’t know what I expected,’ he said, ‘but it wasn’t that. They adopted Sara and I didn’t know. He knows about magic and I didn’t know. Everything is so messed up.’
‘Every time I say that, you argue with me.’
‘I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to see her.’
‘We could always kidnap her.’
‘That is a bad idea for so many reasons, newbie.’
‘So do something official.’
‘I can, once I’m finished with my probation. Which is soon enough, I suppose, Ryan said he could get it down to eighteen months, so only a few to go.’
‘If you get her full-time, then you’re going to have to leave her with the techs while you’re on shift.’
There was an uncomfortable look on his face. ‘I wouldn’t want her full-time. I really thought I would, but now I don’t know.’ He leaned back in the seat as her body pulled the car to a stop at a set of traffic lights. ‘Other than photos that I’ve managed to get, this is only the second time I’ve seen her since I switched sides. Ryan brought me down, weeks ago, while Taylor was missing. She’s been on my mind ever since.’
There was hesitation in his voice. ‘Is that good?’ she asked. ‘Or bad?’
‘We didn’t plan to have a kid,’ he said.
He scars itched, and she wished she could take a hand off the wheel to scratch them.
‘We talked through the options,’ he said, ‘but we were young, and true to cliché, we thought we knew everything. I did more to raise my little sister than my parents ever did, so I thought I could handle it, and my ex didn’t have plans for after graduation. We’d talked about backpacking or something, neither of us were hanging out to hear back about a uni acceptance.’
He let out a long sigh. ‘We thought we could handle it, so we had a kid. It was a mistake, we weren’t ready, which is proved by the fact that she’s been taken away from me, abandoned by her mother and is being raised by my dad and his gay fairy boyfriend.’
‘Gay boyfriend is kinda redundant.’
‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘shit like that still slips out sometimes. I got seriously homophobic after the divorce, but at least I don’t believe any of it any more. I’m a reformed bigot. I learned, I got better.’
‘’You also got over being a Solstice.’
‘I didn’t-‘
‘You get really thingy when people remind you of it,’ she said, ‘it’s ok, you’re one of the good guys, you really are.’
‘And I’m invaluable too, I hear,’ he said with a wink, false –bravado slipping into place for a moment.
‘So what do you want to do about her?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘gods, I really don’t know. He was not a great dad to me and Tara,, but he was also pretending to be straight, so that had to be stressful, so he’s got half a chance of doing a good job with her. I…can’t be a dad to her. I did the late night feedings, I changed her diapers, I bought her toys, I-’ Tears rolled down his cheeks. ‘I did all that. But then her mother left and I saw her less, then everything happened, and I haven’t been there for her since.’ He wiped his face on his jacket sleeve. ‘She was a baby, and now she’s a little person, and I missed some of the really important stuff. I can’t be there for her, and I don’t think I have the capacity to be a father to her, and look after myself, and be a recruit.’
‘You could quit,’ she said quietly.
‘No, I can’t, Stef. Not because of probation, not because of duty, but because this is something I think I could be really good at. Mags is always going to be a better Aide than I am, but I can still be good at it. I have somewhere I belong. I’m Agency, and until I have reason not to be, this is my life. It’s selfish, but I don’t have room in my life for her. I’d rather not be in her life, than get the same substandard parenting I did. He was ready to shoot us to protect them, I think it’s safe to say he’s going to be a better dad to her than he was to me.’
‘So open some civil communication with him, and get to see her on weekends or something. Be the cool uncle that requires everything for her.’
‘Maybe.’ He looked across at her. ‘Even if he’ll let me near her, I don’t know if I’d be able to do it by myself. Think you could be cool Aunt Stef?’
‘Does the job come with a hat?’
‘Sure, newbie, whatever you want.’
‘Do you want to go home?’
He nodded.
She pulled out of the driving mode, and shifted the car back to the Agency garage. They stepped out. ‘You go help Ryan,’ she said, ‘I’m going to go help Jonesy make birds.’
She walked around the front of the car and crouched.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘Nifty little Agency things number four-thousand-and-one,’ she said as she pointed to the licence plate. ‘It had South Australia plates in Adelaide, it swapped them for Queensland ones on reintegration.’
She pulled up her friends list. [Hey, we’re home. I’m heading to Jonesy and sending the Boy Wonder up to you.]
Ryan’s face appeared in the chat window. [Welcome home, and he can use the help. Dinner later?]
[Sure,] she said, [send me an appointment for like three hours from now.]
An appointment appeared in the lower right-hand corner of her HUD and she accepted it. [See you then.]
She looked up at Curt. ‘Lift or shift?’
‘Go ahead,’ he said, ‘I just need a minute.’
‘You need more than a minute, but I can’t give that to you right now. You can has lap again later if you want, but we have to do the work thing now.’
‘I don’t need- Why-’ his shoulders slumped. ‘Yeah, that would be nice.’
‘I has a magic lap?’
‘Please, gods, do not say that around other people.’
She shrugged. ‘See you at dinner.’ She gave him a quick hug, then shifted up to the tech department.
Thoughts had her out of her agent uniform and into her code monkey uniform. [Jonesy?]
[Main room.]
She shifted again. ‘What can I-’ She stared at him. ‘Um. Do you have a flash drive sticking out of your neck?’
Jones gave her a deadpan stare. ‘Yes. Why?’
‘...can you teach me that?’
‘Sure.’ He turned, and she saw a long data cable hanging out from his neck. ‘Are you crossing the man-machine divide, Jonesy?’
‘Dancing on it as always, up for making a few thousand birds?’
She nodded, and the world blurred. One of the labs had been set up with coding stations. ‘Pick a chair,’ he said, ‘instructions are on the desktop. And I’d like to thank you for what you did this morning.’
‘I did something?’
‘You’ll be happy to know that Hadoukening yourself through six walls wasn’t just an epic self-pwnage, but actually useful in the whole saving the world effort.’
‘How so?’
‘You proved that they don’t want to be found.’
‘So?’
Jones smiled. ‘So by the end of this, we will have ten million birds in the sky, all we have to do is look for the blind spots, and the areas they can’t or won’t go, despite their programming.’
She stared at the tech. ‘Ok, there’s a reason you’re the smartest guy I know.’
He pointed to the computer. ‘As many birds as you can manage, if you please.’
She sat, logged in, loaded her hacking/coding playlist in her HUD, and started to type.
Something was blinking.
Stef tried to focus on the red, blinking message, but it became unimportant.
The map spun in her mind, pathing for the next ten birds calculating as she assigned them numbers, linked them to the main system, and then the emergency sub-system, fingers twitching on keys she couldn’t see any more. Keys she wasn’t sure she was touching any more.
She’d started coding on the screen, like the recruits around her, but it was inefficient. She’d practised the first few dozen using the keyboard, getting used to the procedure, adjusting to using the new scripts and automations that took care of most of the work. More and more techs were coming online to assist, mostly recruits, and they could only code so fast.
Agents could work so much faster, she could work so much faster.
She’d turned off visual input from anything other than the drone-creation system, muted all sounds from the outside world, set her communications status to away, and dropped completely into her own system. It was strange at first, like a tech-orientated version of her autopilot, but it was for coding, and felt so much more natural.
In this state, single-tasking rather than multi-tasking, everything was much quicker. Two to five birds a minute had turned into ten birds a minute. Thoughts were processing at faster than the speed of thought. Coding was taking her input, but almost as an aside, an afterthought, using her more as a processor than a truly active role.
The thing blinked again, and she pushed it away, still unable to focus on it.
Someone touched her. A distant sensation, pressure on her shoulder. Another ten birds later, the pressure was still there.
A communications window popped open, text only. [You’re late for dinner.]
She processed another ten birds, then slowly closed the program, and readjusted her senses to take in the real world again.
‘Huh?’ she said, her mouth dry.
Ryan was staring down at her. ‘You’re late for dinner.’
‘I only made-‘ she looked at the counter in her HUD. ‘Like two thousand birds,’ she said. ‘That’s as many as twenty tens and that’s terrible.’
‘I think you’re a little delirious,’ Ryan said.
‘I am not!’ she tried to stand, but immediately pitched forward, caught by her angel’s ever-reliable arms. ‘Maybe dizzy, but not delirious. KITTENS!’
The world blurred a bit, further backing her theory that she was dizzy – before she had a chance to realise it was a shift. He gently lifted her and placed her down on his couch. A cold glass of water was placed in her hand. ‘Sit for a minute.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Why do you have flash drives sticking out of your neck?’ Curt asked.
‘Why don’t you?’ she retorted as she drank the water, trying to force her senses back to normal.
Curt gently tugged at one of the flash drives. ‘Do I even want to know?’
She yanked it out. ‘It’s for overclocking,’ she said. ‘It’s a physical hack. Too dangerous to actually tweak the OS, according to Jonesy, unless you’re designed that way, but doing it this way is safe for a few hours. Mostly. There are some after-effects. Maybe. Just do not give me anything sparkly or shiny or I might go a bit loopy!’
Curt stood, picked up his bag from the side of the couch, and stashed it behind Ryan’s desk. ‘Ok, you should be safe.’
She stared at his shoes, polished shoes. The fluorescent light coming off them was vibrating. ‘Also, I think I’m a little high, is it being high when it feels like you’ve got exactly eighteen fingers and not enough ears to put them in?’ She pulled the other two flash drives from her neck, and things seemed to stabilise a bit. Less fingers, at least.
Require: coffee.
Four cups later, she felt much closer to normal.
‘Um,’ she said as she looked up and around the office. ‘Wasn’t Ryan here?’
‘He’s gone to get food, he’ll be back in a minute,’ Curt said. ‘How’s your head?’
She gave a shrug. ‘At least it’s not addictive,’ she said. ‘And, um, why aren’t we just requiring food?’
Curt shrugged. ‘It was his idea. I’m grateful enough that I’m invited, so I’m not going to argue with the food.’
‘You guys get the agenda done?’
‘We’re trying to collate all the reports and deal with all the staff that have been assigned over. At least half the people downstairs are related to Grigori, but Mags is dealing with that just fine. Jones is keeping most of the techs working remotely so we don’t have to deal with more people. The outposts are dealing with most of the overflow and taking point on the physical patrols, since they know their areas. And I’ve been signing off on expense requests as fast as they come in. Everything is getting rubber stamped, everything. Carmichael is probably going to want to renegotiate if he see some of the deals that others agents are making.’
‘Gods, doesn’t anyone know how to negotiate?’
Ryan shifted into the office, a large box open in his hands. His desk disappeared, replaced with a small, round table and three chairs. He placed the box down, and began to pull bags out and smaller boxes out.
‘You went to Magic Mike’s?’ she asked as she saw the logo on the bags.
‘Delivery,’ he said. ‘I thought it would be a nice treat, and it gave me the opportunity to warn them at the same time.’
She got up of the couch. ‘Did you get-?’
‘I’m not sure what’s here,’ he said, ‘I just told Patty it was for three.’
He pulled out a large cake box and opened it up to find a large pie topped with red pastry. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘there’s the main course. Colk and red wine pie. Help me with the rest.’ They made short work of pulling the rest of the treats from their respective boxes and bags, filling the table with savouries and sweets.
They sat and Ryan carved the pie into three large chunks. ‘Is this more science meat?’ she asked as she stabbed a large chunk onto her fork. ‘Or is there an animal called a colk?’
Curt didn’t even bother to hide a smirk, but didn’t say anything.
‘It is artificially-derived meat,’ Ryan said, ‘and there was never an animal known as a colk, that refers to the mix of meats here.’ He cut a small chunk in half and held it up. ‘It’s a mix of the standard red meat mixture, and the standard white-meat mixture.’
She stared at the chequerboard-coloured piece of meat. ‘Oh.’ She chewed on a chunk. ‘Is it nom, though.’
‘It’s one of the most popular mixtures,’ Ryan said.
Curt carved into the brikni and look a small slice, mixing it in with the rich sauce of the pie. ‘This much better than the brikni at Fry’s.’
Ryan smiled. ‘It’s an old family recipe, or so I’m told.’
They ate in comfortable, familial silence for a while, finishing off their slices of pie, sharing the brikni, nomming on the smaller savouries, before clearing away the dirty dishes, leaving only the sweets and the cake behind.
‘I can’t…I can’t eat anymore,’ she said, eyes as wide as the chocolate tarts in front of her. ‘I will literally explode, and I did that once already today.’ The rest of the food disappeared from the table, and she whimpered. ‘What’d you do that for? Sometimes exploding is worth it!’
Ryan pointed behind her, and she saw it stacked neatly on a smaller table. ‘It can wait,’ he said, ‘there’s a few things we need to discuss, as complicated as the situation was this morning, it’s become tenfold since then. I will, however, start with the good news, if that’s all right with the both of you.’
‘Yes sir,’ Curt said, and she gave a nod.
A bottle of wine appeared on the table – not the unicorn wine she’d bought him, something else, but definitely fae. He required three glasses and poured equal measures into each. ‘It’s Got wine,’ he said, ‘it has a similar effect to aole, and it’s probably the best of my remaining collection.’
‘Did you have a wild party while we were out? With wine? So a wild, low-key posh party? Or-’
He shook his head. ‘No, I sold anything of value. I thought it was best to do before other agents start to do the same.’
‘Snap decisions can lead to better profits,’ she said.
‘Precisely. I did sell the bottles you gave me, I hope you don’t mind.’
‘They were yours to do with as you please,’ she said. ‘But what did you need the money for?’
‘I thought it would be a good time to invest in property,’ he said. ‘Given the nature of this emergency. Should the blue phoenix die, all hell will break loose here, Contingency 32 or not, millions will die in a matter of hours, it will be impossible to keep the public in the dark. There have been projections on this, and they always say that should enough Solstice survive, their numbers will grow exponentially. It’s more than possible that we’ll be ordered to go to ground for a few years, if we get a chance to do so before a war breaks out. Much as it would loathe me to give up my post, survival is necessary to fight another day, and fairyland will be so much safer, especially if they close the borders.’
‘Are you allowed to say something like that here?’ she asked in a whisper, afraid of the ever-constant eyes of the Agency. It wasn’t paranoid if they were actually listening.
He gave a slight smile. ‘Emergency directives, it’s not treason if we’re ordered to lie low. I’m already in negotiation for two pieces of property – one is a rental property, so there’s an income stream there, the other isn’t in a city, but at least there’s room enough for anyone I would want to take.’ He pulled an envelope out of his jacket and passed it across to her. ‘Which is where this becomes relevant.’
She opened the envelope, and pulled out some official-looking forms – the logos telling her they were from fairyland. She read through it, but it was like new paperwork, nothing made sense.
‘Um?’ she prompted.
‘I’ve had an equivalency citizenship for over a decade now,’ he said, ‘wasn’t my idea, it was something all directors were encouraged to do – for projects and initiatives that have since been mothballed or gone back to the drawing board. What you have there is a sponsored sub-citizenship form.’
‘Try it again in Hob, cause you’re not making any sense in English.’
Curt shook his head. ‘I thought you were a genius, newbie.’
Ryan leaned across the table and took her hands. ‘It’s as close as I can come to adopting you under fairy law for the moment. You’ll need-‘
She shifted to the other side of the table and hugged him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face his shoulder. ‘I love you.’
He kissed the top of her head. ‘Problematic pet or not, I’ve got no intention of leaving you behind.’ She felt a chair beside her legs and she sat, hugging his arm instead of his neck. ‘I hope we don’t have to deal with this eventuality, but if we do, there’s room for Buttercup.’
‘…did you buy that old green place down the road from Magic Mike’s?’
‘I did.’
‘That place has been for sale for years!’ she said, ‘Patty said that-’
‘They were willing to deal,’ he said, ‘it’s structurally sound.’
‘I’m no good at painting!’
‘You’ll have time to learn.’
‘Sir,’ Curt said, ‘haven’t you been here all day, how have you organised all this?’
‘A little help from Prometheus,’ he said. He looked down at her. ‘Sorry, you weren’t around to ask.’
‘Huh?’ Curt said.
‘So long as you weren’t browsing porn, my laptop is your laptop. And I don’t care if you do, just so long as you clear the history.’
‘I thought you laptop was Frankie,’ Curt said, ‘or did you get a new one? Or-‘
She shook her head at him. ‘You earned geek points today,’ she said, ‘but now you just lost classic literature points.’
‘Be fair,’ Ryan said, ‘it is a little obtuse.’
She looked across at Curt. ‘My laptop’s name is Prometheus. The Modern Prometheus is another name for the book Frankenstein. Frankenstein. Frankie. Got it?’
‘He is right,’ Curt said, ‘it’s a little obtuse.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘The more you know.’
She looked from Ryan to Curt, and back again. ‘What about him, can we keep him too?’
‘He’s a property owner,’ Ryan said, ‘he doesn’t need our help.’
Curt stared down into his glass of wine. ‘I didn’t think the Agency knew about that.’
‘The Agency doesn’t,’ Ryan said, ‘I do, and it’ll stay that way until you want it otherwise. I did a search on your name, to see if you had a foothold, otherwise I’d be making the offer to sponsor you as well.’
Curt looked away. ‘Thank you sir.’
‘I do have something else for you though.’ Another envelope appeared in Ryan’s hand and he passed it to Curt. Curt took it, and opened it. He stared, wide-eyed at the contents. ‘H-How?’
‘What’d you give him?’
Curt flipped the envelope’s contents – easily recognisable as an Agency form – over. ‘My probation’s over. I’m- I’m-’
‘You’ve earned it, Curt.’
‘But, how, sir? I didn’t even have a final review, let alone-’
‘Emergency conditions can make certain things easier,’ Ryan said with a smile. ‘There are several Aide privileges you don’t have – mostly to do with your security clearance levels – that you didn’t have because of your probation, given what we’ll be dealing with until this situation is over, I made the argument that I needed you at full capacity, and it was passed through without argument. You’re going to have a post-probation interview, but that will be one month after the emergency situation is declared to be over.’
‘You have no idea what this means to me, sir.’
‘Yes, I do,’ Ryan said, ‘and that’s why you’ve earned it.’
‘Ok,’ she said, ‘this was the good stuff, what’s the bad stuff?’
‘It’s not bad,’ Ryan said, ‘it’s just...complicated. It’s what Contingency 32 on this scale can really mean for the Agency.’
‘But, um,’ Stef said, ‘weren’t we just talking about that? Either we win, or we move to fairyland?’
Curt wiped his hands on a napkin and shook his head. ‘There’s some shades of grey in the middle, newbie.’
She turned to look at him, then looked up at Ryan. ‘You two have been at this longer than me, stop groupthinking!’
Ryan folded his hands on the table. ‘While we have to account for the possibility of a total Agency shutdown or suspension, implementing Contingency 32 on this scale means a few things a lot more immediately.’
‘Sir,’ Curt said, ‘this is huge.’
‘Come on guys-‘ she started.
‘Stef,’ Ryan said, ‘why don’t we shift all the Solstice into cells right now?’
‘Blackout zones.’
‘And those not in blackout zones?’
‘Cause they’re- They’re blacked out as well, we can’t touch them.’
Ryan nodded. ‘They use various methods to block us, it’s very similar to our Contingency 32, except they use time energy or-‘
‘Or shots of fae blood,’ Curt said, ‘that’s what the hardcore guys do. It’s messier, and it’s nowhere near as effective, it’s just macho crap that generally leads to them running out of protection at inopportune times.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Can I do the “Solstice are hypocrites dance”?’
‘Dosing yourself with time energy easy,’ Curt said, ‘it’s just treated water, it’s easy to use, it’s easy to transport, and it disperses really well. It’s used in all the food prep and in the water we’re given on patrols, so w- they’re always safe.’
‘So why don’t half the Solstice have timey-wimey powers?’
Ryan sighed. ‘Stef.’
‘Magic isn’t that simple, yessir, sorry, yeah, I know.’
‘I am not involved in the planning stages of any of this,’ Ryan said, ‘all I know is that it’s being discussed. We cannot administer blue to every person in the world by hand, it’s not even worth thinking about, so we have to go for better methods of distribution. We start by “contaminating” water sources,’ he said. ‘That gives us a start. Drinking water, cooking, and to a lesser extent, bathing, hand washing, they’d all be ways to start the population absorbing blue. Obviously, this is not going to be quick, and it’s not going to be as effective as necessary on a lot of people. From there we move to the same level of “contamination” of food processing plants, and bottling plants. This is a lot better, because everything ingested – unless it’s home grown – becomes a source for ingesting blue. After that, we have to move to a vaccine cover story and more direct methods.’
‘Every person in the world would be connected to the system,’ Curt said.
Whoa. This is heavy.
‘I hadn’t,’ she said, ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that. Even if it’s just tracking blue, then…This is way to Orwellian for me. This isn’t something we’d ever give up. It’s too much power to have then abandon. You don’t get unlimited power, and then just give it up and be normal again.’
‘If this is done,’ Ryan said, ‘and it’s not even something we have a say in, this is above the Directors, above the Enforcers, this is-‘ He paused for a second. ‘This is so far up I don’t know who is dealing with it.’
‘This is massive,’ Curt said. ‘It’s the ultimate Solstice nightmare.’
‘The Agency would change overnight,’ Ryan said. ‘Our entire method of operation would have to adapt to fit this new way. The number of Agents would become tenfold, a hundredfold, a thousandfold, and in a very short amount of time, to say nothing of how many more recruits we would take on. We would interfere to a far greater degree than what we do now, we wouldn’t be able to help it, even tracking blue tracks life signs, how could we stop ourselves from stopping crimes in progress, shifting out those being abused or harmed, getting those to medical care who can’t reach a phone in time?’ He put a hand over his mouth for a moment. ‘It would be wonderful, it would be terrible, and we cannot handle this much power. We would be gods.’
‘I think this is what Death meant,’ she said, ‘when she talked about not interfering.’
He gave her a nod.
‘Despite the advantages this would give us, I don’t want this level of power. I would rather live and fight the Solstice, and all of our other enemies for that matter, for the rest of my life, than to take the easy way out. I don’t think I’m alone in this,’ he said, ‘it’s why official policy is to destroy mirror, rather than gathering it to deal with our enemies.’
‘But you brought up Contingency 32 at the meeting,’ she said.
‘What’s the lesser of two evils though?’ This level of power, possibly forever, or to allow the entire human population to die if the blue hatchling is killed?’ He lifted his wine glass and took a small drink. ‘Sometimes I am very glad there are decisions that I do not have to make.’
She lifted her own glass and took a sip. The wine was light, fruity, and a sweet counterpoint the morose turn in conversation. ‘So,’ she said, ‘bunnies are great. They’re small and they’re fluffy and they’re-‘ Both of them were staring at her. ‘If there’s nothing we can do about this, nothing at all, then it isn’t worth our time thinking about. We’re as safe as we can be, and so are the people we care about, so why don’t we focus on the things we can control, and not the shit we can’t?’
She emptied her glass. ‘There is a reason the extent of my daily news comes from the Cheezeburger network and gaming blogs. Hole in the ozone? What the fuck can I do about that? Terrorism? Same. Nothing I can do about that. Taxes? I don’t understand them, and I don’t want to. Cost to raise a family going up? Can’t have kids so it’s not a worry for me. Running out of fuel? I never go anywhere anyway! The only reason I have avoided going completely and utterly mental to the point where I cannot function is simple: I don’t worry about things I cannot do anything about. If I choose to get stressed out because some release date is pushed back, or there’s some giant wank over X getting cast as Y and why would you do that, that’s my choice, because I control how much I care about the situation. I’m been more emotionally invested in following the evolution of the official fem!Shep than I ever have been in politics. Either of your guns to my head right now, I couldn’t tell you who the bloody prime minister is!’
Ryan smiled a little, then finished off his wine and nodded. ‘Jones is working on birds, we’ve got everyone patrolling as much as we can, and we’re using our double-agents to gather what intel we can. So far, we have nothing, but given the situation, that isn’t a bad thing. We still have no proof they know what they have, or the intent to use them.’
‘Has the informant dude woken up yet?’ she asked.
‘The Parkers think tomorrow,’ Ryan said. ‘We’ll be able to question him then.’
They sat in silence for a little while.
‘Can we has cake?’ she asked, looking over at the selection of sweets.
‘I thought you were going to explode,’ Ryan said.
‘Maybe I can fit a little bit of cake.’
‘Curt?’ Ryan asked.
‘Sure.’
The cakes were shifted back onto the table, and Ryan topped up their glasses.
An hour later, with all but a few of the small cakes gone, Ryan stood. ‘Sorry, you’ll have to excuse me.’
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked as she looked up at him.
A fresh uniform rippled across his body. ‘Directors’ meeting, it was supposed to be in the morning, but it’s been rescheduled. This is going to take a few hours, so I’ll see you both in the morning.’
‘I may be in the tech department,’ she said as he kissed her on the head. ‘But I’ll pop down when I get a chance.’
He a nod, straightened his just-required already-impeccable uniform, then shifted away.
‘Go ahead,’ Curt said, pushing the tray at her, ‘you can finish it off.’
She shook her head and pushed it back. ‘If I eat any more I’ll puke.’
He shrugged. ‘Fine.’ He stood, picked up the tray, required a small fridge in the corner of the office, and packed the leftovers away. ‘Breakfast, if Ryan doesn’t need a late-night snack when he gets back.’
She looked at the clock in her HUD. ‘It’s late,’ she said, ‘want to head to bed, or have you got stuff you need to do first?’
‘What do you- Sorry, right.’ He gave a smile. ‘I’m fine. I don’t need-‘
She shrugged and began to prep the bird-making software. ‘It was just an offer, it’s not like I’m going to force you down on me. Again.’
‘And you aren’t the least bit weirded out by this?’
‘Oh, like we were ever going to have a normal friendship,’ she said with a smirk. ‘You find it comforting, and that helps you, which is good, cause I don’t really do that much for you.’
‘It’s not like you owe me,’ he said.
‘I’m not doing this because I feel indebted to you, I’m doing this because you’re my friend. And it’s not like I hated sleeping with you last night, so accept, or I’m gonna go pull an all-nighter with the techs.’
He considered it for a moment, then stood and held out a hand. ‘Fine then, come to bed with me.’
She took his hand. ‘You attempt to carry me over any thresholds and I will stab you in the neck a flash drive.’
‘Duly noted,’ he said as they left the office.
* * *
Curt moved a little closer to Stef as they walked down the first section of hall. There were recruits about, he could hear them. Keeping their cover, keeping up appearances, it was necessary, for so long as they needed to maintain their fiction. How long they would need to was another issue. It had been necessary, he knew it was necessary, but she’d backed them into a corner. It had been a rumour, an assumption, but now so far as the recruit population was concerned, it was fact.
A public breakup would end the fiction, but then they’d be expected to answer on how they could maintain a stable working relationship.
At least it wasn’t killing any dating chances – none of the recruits wanted him. Any outside prospects…those were bridges to sell when he got there. Until then, the fiction, and his usual infrequent trips to fairyland would have to do.
As they turned the corner towards the recruit dorms, the sources of the voices were revealed. Four of the field recruits – two coming back in off a patrol, two going out, loitered in the hall, regurgitating the rumours and half-truths that the recruits knew about the situation. The conversation died as they walked past.
He had liked having a room at the end of the hall. It kept him away from the others. Now, it made the walk longer and more uncomfortable than it needed to be.
At least there were no whispered comments this time.
His door popped open with a thought as they approached. He slammed it harder than he needed to once they were in the room.
‘They will get over it,’ he said, unsure of who he was trying convince. ‘There’s just not a lot of fodder for the rumour mill here.’
‘What about Mags and Taylor?’
‘It’s what I said when you told me, it was a forgone conclusion that they were already f- That they were already together. Mags may have gone through half the Agency, but with how close they were even before they were together, it was easy to make that leap.’
‘Mags and Taylor. Sam Beckett would not like that leap.’
He felt himself grin. ‘Quantum Leap, I know that one! It was on after Trek sometimes. Never watched much of it though.’
She gave him a nod of approval. ‘I’m going to break you, just you wait and see.’
‘Newbie.’
She jumped onto his bed, shoes disappearing before she touched down. ‘Coming?’
‘Mind if I have a shower first?’
She pulled all of the pillows behind her. ‘Go ahead, I’ll be making birds.’ She pulled her knees up and rested an unattached keyboard on her thighs. She was tapping away at the keyboard before his jacket was off.
He hung the jacket behind the door, and reached into the pockets for his ID and wallet. Missing.
‘Stef?’
‘Hm?’
‘I left my bag in Ryan’s office, can you shift it down for me?’ It was in his hands as soon as the words were out of his mouth. ‘Thanks.’
‘Hm.’
He pulled out his wallet and ID, and placed them on his bedside table. The items from the gift shop were there, and required a second bedside table on her side of the bed to place them on. Her side of the bed. Accurate. Innocuous. Innocent. Somehow weird. Convenient. He hadn’t given her a choice of sides the previous night, pulling her in while half asleep, but now, she’d voluntarily picked the left side of the bed. Convenient, it meant not having to argue about who had which side of the bed – an argument he always yielded in, no matter how weird it was to sleep on the left side of the bed.
Her eyes moved beneath her lids like she was dreaming, fingers tapping away on keys that was probably more of an ingrained response than an actual need. He smiled down at her, lifted the magic wand and turned it on, before going into the small bathroom and closing the door. He stared at the door for a moment, then locked it. It would do no good if she shifted in, but it made him feel a little better.
Clothes fell into a messy heap on the floor. He stepped into the shower, requiring the water on with a thought – it was always best to require the water on, then it was at the perfect temperature to begin with, the taps still worked, and it was easy to adjust, but starting out with a requirement avoided the problem of dodging too-cold or too-hot water.
He stood under the warm water for a moment, feeling his muscles relax and some of the stress slip away from his shoulders.
He reached for the soap, lathered his hands and touched his head to the wall. He’d woken up, and accidentally “searched for droids”, which had resulted in nothing but a moment of embarrassment. Spending a whole night, curled up to a warm girl – even if it was Stef – that was going into more dangerous territory.
A half-asleep agent with little-to-no impulse control and an autopilot that could take a man’s head off was not something he wanted to encounter with morning wood. Getting poked in the back, however innocent, had the possibility of being construed as an attack, and agents dealt with things swiftly, and decisively.
He was sure the Parkers could make the necessary reattachments, but it wasn’t a skill he wanted to put to use.
He moved his hand slowly, teasing up his erection while trying to focus on sexy images, sexy memories. The feel of a breast. A look of raw lust. The tingling rush of looking at porn at work.
It was no true defence, but it was a better plan than simply hoping.
His mind refused to focus on any one girl, any one sensation, his mind turning into a slide show on fast forward. He urged himself on, trying to stay focused on the nymph girl from the Rose Room, but came, thinking about nothing in particular.
He rinsed his hands, letting the shower’s warm spray take care of the rest.
He pulled his shampoo off the small shelf and quickly washed his hair. He lathered his hands, washing his body in quick, efficient order. He turned away from the spray lathered his hands again, and covered his tattoo in a layer of soap, obscuring it a little.
Some semblance of pride had made him keep it in the beginning, the false belief that they hadn’t entirely broken him, that it was up to him when he got rid of it. Shame had overtaken imagined pride, and it was stronger, longer-lasting. It had been a mark of honour, something to boast about, something to show off, to show how good he had been at beating half-truths out of fae and making them beg for death.
‘What’s your name?’
Stef stared at him, already broken. She’d been broken before they’d started, now she was shattered and he’d barely begun. His hands hurt from hitting her, and he was sure ribs weren’t supposed to poke at the skin like that.
She opened her mouth to answer him, but he grabbed her face, both thumbs sticking up under her chin, keeping her mouth closed. He brought his face close to hers, expelling hot air over her face, trying to share a tiny bit of warmth, while keeping up the façade of intimidation. ‘It’s not going to be that easy, bitch,’ he snapped. He pulled his hands away, gritted his teeth, and slapped her across the face. She cried out in pain, a tiny, surprised, noise, and he felt his resolve threatening to break.
He prayed for forgiveness, and picked up a pair of pliers.
The soap slipped from his hands, and he knelt to retrieve it, staying under the spray of the hot water for a long moment.
He was a monster. He was a fucking war criminal. He didn’t deserve happiness, and he didn’t deserve her friendship. She’d made it clear she didn’t give a damn for his opinion on the subject.
She’d forgiven him. Absolved him. He didn’t deserve it, but he wanted it. Wanted to believe he was worth it, wanted to believe he deserved it.
Some men found god. Some men found gods. Some men found the bottle. Some found a gun, a knife, or a bottle of pills and a rather final decision.
He’d found a dirty little hacker who made him feel human.
He stood, placed the soap on the shelf and rinsed his body off.
He stepped out of the shower, dried off, required a pair of conservative boxers, and a t-shirt, wrapped the towel around his shoulders, and left the bathroom. ‘I’m going to be very disappointed-’ he began as he walked back into the main room, towelling off his hair.
She still had the vacant-playing-in-her-HUD expression, but lifted one hand off the keyboard and pointed the wall. A huge flat screen TV, with what surely had to be the first episode of Quantum Leap paused and waiting.
‘That’s my newbie,’ he said as he slipped into bed and under the blanket. She was still wearing her suit. ‘Do you even own pyjamas?’
She shook her head.
‘How can you not own pyjamas?’
‘I may in the technical sense own some,’ she said, ‘well, did, until I dumped the majority of my old wardrobe a couple of weeks ago, but it’s not like I ever wore them.’ Fingers continued to tap. ‘I just used to fall asleep in whatever I was wearing, couldn’t see the point in separating my waking clothes from my sleeping clothes especially when I- Oh, fuck you, bird-’ She grumbled for a moment about reconnecting a bird. ‘And now I have to flag that to Jonesy in case that’s a phoenix spotting instead of a coding error. Ten million birds, we’re going to be chasing typos more then legitimate leads.’ She blinked a few times, and the keyboard disappeared from her under her hands. ‘I’ll do more in the morning, he’s got another shift coming on now anyway. What was I saying?’
‘Pyjamas?’
‘Come on, this is me, if I wore pyjamas, it’s one-to-one odds that I would have gone shopping in them at least once. It’s not worth the risk.’
‘Yeah, I can see you doing that,’ he said as he required his towel away. ‘But seriously, you sleep in your suit every night?’
‘Depends if I’ve been playing with the techs or not.’
‘And you’re comfortable?’
She gave him a serious look. ‘It’s weirding you out a bit, isn’t it?’
‘You’re an agent and you still walk into walls if you don’t look where you’re going, I’m just wondering how you manage not to choke yourself to death with your tie, or something stupid like that.’
‘Easy answer, my uniform isn’t evil.’ She pouted, and her suit rippled, replacing itself with a fuzzy blue onesie and a nightcap.
‘No, newbie, just…no.’
Her clothes rippled one more time, leaving her in a long-sleeved but loose blue shirt and flannel pyjama pants. ‘How’s this?’
‘Much better.’
She lifted the remote. ‘Shall we?’
He tugged on the blanket. ‘Come on, come under.’
She blurred in place as she shifted under the blanket.
‘Show off,’ he muttered.
She slid down on the pillows a little, making herself more comfortable.
He looked at her. ‘May I?’
‘What do you think I’m here for, stupid?’
He moved closer. If she intended to make him watch television, then her lap wasn’t going to work. He laid her head against her side, angling so he could see the flat screen, but comfortable enough to sleep, if he fell asleep before the episode – or episodes if he knew her – were over.
She put an arm over him, and for a moment it was perfect.
She relaxed a little, hit play and thoughts of phoenixes and the end of the world seeped back into his mind, ruining the serenity of the moment.
‘Thank you,’ he whispered.
She squeezed him tight for a moment, then relaxed her arm. ‘Any time. Now shh, and watch.’
He cut her, and she screamed.
He dragged the knife down her chest, and cut deeply into her distended belly. She shook, still alive, despite the blood slicking his hands, the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Everything was dripping with blood, and she was still alive.
He dropped the knife, and it shattered like glass on the floor.
Her stomach shook as the agent crawled his way out of the woman, covered in blood, screaming, laughing, rapturous.
The agent pulled himself free of her, and everything disappeared.
The agent stepped forth from the darkness. Petersen. Gleaming and clean, grinning, wrathful.
He looked down at himself, and saw blood.
The agent stepped forth, wrapped a hand around his throat and then pulled away, pulling loose a string of words and blood.
He looked down at his naked, blood self, and saw patches of skin missing where the words had been taken. Bloody holes down to the flesh spelling out “liar” “bastard” “murderer”.
He screamed in argument, but Petersen simply turned away tugging the string as he walked.
He unravelled, spinning and being dragged along, his skin rent from his flesh, one word at a time.
The agent loomed over him, blurring, becoming every person he’d ever met, every person he’d ever fucked, every person he’d ever killed.
Petersen smiled-
Curt opened his eyes.
He felt the familiar, white-knuckled grip on his blanket, the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. The anger. The shame.
He pulled himself out of bed, stumbled to the door and pulled it open. The bright lights of the hall woke him a little more. No one was around at this hour, no one ever was.
He walked down two short hallways, then through the sliding door of the infirmary. The Parkers were clothed, for once.
‘Your patient!’ the shorter of them called from his desk, and the taller walked out from one of the walk-in storage rooms.
Parker looked at him, and waved him over to the closest bed. ‘Here I was thinking I’d only have hangovers to cure tonight.’
He sat on the bed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. ‘You need to adjust the dosage again. These ones were working, I thought they were working. I need to be able to sleep,’ he said.
A clipboard materialised in Parker’s hand. ‘How many did you take tonight?’
‘I-‘ He shut his mouth. Shower, pills, bed, that’s how it worked, that’s how it always worked. That’s how it worked when there wasn’t a hacker in his bed distracting him from his routine. ‘Fuck.’
‘Too many?’ Parker asked, his look intense, probably scanning him, ‘or too few?’
‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I messed up.’
‘That’s not an answer, Curt.’
‘None.’
The doctor leaned closer, cocking his ear toward him. ‘One?’
‘None.’ He looked up. ‘I forgot.’
Parker tapped him on the head with the clipboard. ‘They don’t work if you don’t take them. Stop wasting my time, recruit.’
‘What the hell time is it?’ he asked.
‘Too late to have chemical-assisted sleep, just try and make it through till morning. You can take a nap tomorrow when no-one’s looking. What made you forget?’
‘Nothing.’
‘No one gets away with lying in my infirmary.’
‘I was busy.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Stef.’ He resisted an urge to slap himself. ‘I meant- She stayed the night- I-‘
‘It’s just sex, boy, relax. But your pills don’t work unless you take them.’
‘I know. I know.’
‘Now, is there anything else I can do, or are you going to leave so I can get back to work?’
‘How much trouble is it to get rid of my tattoo?’
‘You finally what to get rid of that eyesore?’
‘Yeah. I do.’
Parker looked around the infirmary, then looked back. ‘What tattoo?’
‘You know-‘ he started, then lifted his shirt. It was gone. ‘It’s that simple?’
‘It’s just ink,’ Parker said, ‘that’s all it ever was, recruit.’
He ran a hand over the skin. It tingled a little, felt new, felt good. ‘Yeah,’ he said, a lump in his throat, ‘just ink.’
‘Get some sleep, Curt,’ Parker said, ‘we’ll be waking the informant in the morning, so hopefully you’ll have leads to work from, and you’ll be useless if you’re tired.’
He gave a nod. ‘Night doc.’
He stood, and left the infirmary, walking back down the quiet corridors and into his room.
Stef sat, illuminated by the light of the toy magic wand in her hands, worry clear on her face. ‘I would have followed you,’ she said, brushing sleep-tousled hair back from her face, ‘but you went to the infirmary, so I didn’t. Are you ok?’
‘You have your nightmares,’ he said as he closed the door, ‘I have mine. I forgot to take my sleeping pills, that’s all.’
‘Do they work?’ she asked.
‘In a way,’ he said as he got back into bed. ‘I still have the dreams, but at least I sleep through it. I hate it, but I guess at least it means I still have a soul.’ He tugged on the blanket. ‘Come on, come under, I’m not getting up yet.’
She put the magic wand on the bedside table and moved, pulling the blanket over her legs, but didn’t lie down. ‘Jonesy’s still way behind,’ she said, ‘I’ve been up for a while making birds. You go back to sleep.’
‘So long as you aren’t tired tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Lie down at least? You may as well be comfortable.’
She didn’t argue, and laid down.
‘May I?’ he asked as he moved closer.
She nodded, and let him hold her. She turned her body and backed up against him, letting him spoon her. Safe. It felt safe. ‘Night,’ he said, closing his eyes.
‘Night.’
* * *
Stef let herself relax a little as his breathing grew regular with sleep. Nightmares were something she could sympathise with, and as bad as hers were, at least she couldn’t remember the imagery. Even if it was hell, an hour of screaming, wretched pain half the nights of the week was a small price to pay for being able to wake up the morning after. Any price was worth it, because it let her live.
She opened up her eyes, her HUD resuming exactly where she’d left it off, halfway through making a bird. She completed it, then worked on a two hundred more before she saw a popup announcing Jonesy was back online.
She pinged him, but instead of a response, she was greeted with an invite to join a group chat. Fifty, sixty, no, seventy-five others had apparently pinged him at the same time.
[I’ll make this simple,] Jones said in text only. [Press 1 for overclocking drives.]
She sent [1] and watched as the group chat filled with ones.
[Ok, they’re coming now,] Jones’ text read. [If that’s all, leave the channel so I can deal with everyone else.]
She dropped from the group chat, and waited patiently for the drives to appear in her hands. Three of them, just as before. She slowly extended her arm, making an effort not to disturb Curt, required away her sleeve, and pressed each drive to her skin. The tips glowed blue, and her skin did the same for a moment as they fused to her. Each appeared as an icon in her HUD, and she activated each.
She dropped back into the bird-making program, and set about sending more and more of the drones out.
Curt shifted a little, curling his body tighter, crushing her against him. Another nightmare, probably. She looked to the clock in her HUD. Three-thirty. If she woke him now, he probably wouldn’t go back to sleep. She dropped back out of the birds and reached for the hands wrapped around her middle and stroked them. ‘Shh, it’s ok, shh.’
He relaxed his legs a little, but kept his grip around her like she was a teddy to keep away the monsters, some sort of totem against the nightmares.
The previous night hadn’t been planned, had just been something that had happened. It had been weird to sleep in a bed, weird to curl up next to someone who wasn’t Ryan, but it hadn’t been unpleasant. Unusual, but not unpleasant. It was-
Christ, would you stop paddling up denial and admit you like it?
But I-
Spyder.
I like it.
Was that so hard?
‘You know it was,’ she whispered.
Oi, back in the here, Spyder.
Tears dripped down her cheeks. It’s like playing pretend.
Spyder-
This is the only way I’m ever going to be in a boy’s bed, but at least now I know what it’s like. And it’s nice. And I get to pretend for three seconds that I’m a normal girl. Don’t worry, I’m not mixing fantasy with reality, I know I’m here to be the Wendy-mother, but it’s almost like peeking into another dimension where I’m not some freak, where someone would actually want me.
She turned off the overclocking drives, wanting to save them for later, and they pinched against her skin again as they came loose.
Peter wanted you.
He would have loved any girl. It’s irrelevant anyway, I’m not going to Neverland, I like it here too much. She lifted a hand and brushed the tears away. I wish I was a real girl.
No you don’t.
I want to wish I was a real girl.
You used to wish you were Stephanie as well, where do you think you’d be now if you’d made yourself someone you’re not, Spyder?
Miserable. Or a princess. Maybe both.
And that’s better than being an agent?
Of course not. It’s just…it’s just all that outside-looking-in crap. Even Taylor found someone who can put up with him, and he’s Taylor, why the hell does he deserve to be happy?
Happiness you facilitated, don’t forget that.
Oh, that was entirely selfish, you know that.
Still…
I’m not ungrateful for what I have. I’ve got a job, I’ve got family, I’ve got purpose, all of that was unthinkable six months ago. I’ve got so much and now I want more, I guess some of that spoiled brat stuff stuck with me.
So go hit on a tech, or join an online dating thing, if you want something, then you’ve got to start somewhere. You can’t do code without typing, you can’t have-
But I don’t want it. I want- It’s the idea. I like the idea of it. It’s like the princess movies, you totally ship it, even if it’s illogical, even if it wouldn’t work in real life, even if they’re getting married after the first date. It’s all so unattainable and stupid when you try to add reality to the situation. It’s fanciful ephemera before you grow up and realise the truth.
So you’d rather be a coward than take a chance.
I’m talking to a voice in my head at four in the morning, how the hell do you even begin to broach something like you on a first date? Do you wait for the second date? Third date? Spill it while I’m acquiescing to sex? Tell them while being dragged down the aisle?
I’m the least of your problems.
No one would want me. Hardware faults, software faults, I’m not worth the trouble.
You’re not going to listen to me even if I argue, are you?
Absolutely not. She closed her eyes. Besides, I’m content to play pretend.
Three weeks later.
‘Stef?’
‘Hm?’
‘Stef?’
‘Hm?’
‘Newbie!’
She minimised the tech department windows in her HUD and blinked to focus on the real world. ‘What?’
Something was wrong. Magnolia was in Ryan’s office.
‘Um?’ she said.
Magnolia sighed. ‘My brother’s lawyer is coming to the Agency this afternoon to- Fuck if I know, open a dialogue, I suppose. As it’s a meeting in Agency territory, an Agent needs to be present. Taylor won’t be back in time for it to start, and the bastard wont’ reschedule.’
‘Are you asking me to babysit you, Mags?’
‘You don’t appear to be doing anything,’ Magnolia snapped.
‘I’m working on extrapolating-’
‘Will you do it or not? You can continue to do whatever it is you’re doing, there just needs to be an agent present, I would prefer it if you didn’t listen in, as a matter of fact.’
‘Actually, you probably want me listening in,’ she said as she stood, trying to look the recruit in the eyes. ‘Lawyers are doublespeaking bastards, but I can grok on to a lot of what they’re saying. The King’s Law stuff not so much, but the general flow of things.’
‘Is this the day of the month where you’re actually useful?’
‘Magnolia,’ Ryan warned from his desk.
‘Sorry,’ Magnolia snapped, not sounding the least bit apologetic. ‘Will you, or won’t you?’
‘What time?’
‘Meet me in the lobby in an hour.’
‘Fine.’
Magnolia turned, and stalked out of the office.
‘I really don’t like her,’ she mumbled as Curt closed the door.
‘I know, newbie.’
‘This is actually one of your duties, Stef,’ Ryan said. ‘Her choice for Taylor is obvious, but supervising meetings in Agency territory is something that comes under Field’s jurisdiction. This will be good practice for the future.’
‘Yay.’
‘Going back into my head now.’ She closed her eyes. ‘Make sure I’m up in an hour.’
‘Of course,’ Ryan said.
She cut her audio and visual feeds from the outside world, and focused on the reports that were coming in every time a tech – or someone pulled in to be used as a tech – discovered something or implemented a new piece of methodology. Updates read, she turned back to the code pieces she was retrofitting and recreating to extrapolate if the typos made during the creation of ten million birds had in fact been random, or if it meant something.
She missed her keyboard, but coding in the HUD was something really, really to get used to. Coding at the speed of thought, unfettered by fingers that got tired from a lack of caffeine.
Someone shook her.
She closed the coding window, but stopped, and read the latest three reports.
She smelt coffee.
Audio and visual may have been off, but she didn’t bother to turn off her nose – the Agency smell was neutral enough to be unobtrusive if everything was fine, but if there was a random fire, at least she’d be able to smell the smoke.
She brought her senses up to normal, and took the cup being waved under her nose. ‘You’ve got a couple of minutes,’ Ryan said as she sipped at the coffee – which had the right amount of sugar. A treat, obviously she was doing something right.
‘How’s stuff coming on your side?’ she asked.
‘They’re making the Contingency 32 decision later,’ he said, a defeated look on his face.
She put the coffee down and hugged him. ‘Whichever way it goes, we’ll deal with it, ok?’
‘I hope we can. I’m heading out to a short meeting myself, I’ll see you when I get back.’
She let go of him, drained her coffee, and stood. ‘BRB,’ she said.
She left the office, walked down the hall and caught the lift down. Magnolia glared as she stepped out.
‘You’re late,’ she snapped.
‘I still have forty-eight seconds. And I’m doing you a favour-’
‘He’s already here, just…stay out my way,’ Magnolia said as they started across the lobby.
A man stood at the front desk, wrapping the visitor’s lanyard over his neck.
Her father stood at the front desk, wrapping the visitor’s lanyard over his neck.
Her legs gave out, and she fell against Magnolia.
‘The fuck, Mimosa?’ Magnolia said as she shoved her away. She scrambled for footing, her eyes glued to James Mimosa.
‘He can’t be here-’ her voice coming out as a terrified squeak.
‘Would you-’ Magnolia started.
James turned and saw her.
Her throat went tight, and she felt tears burning at her eyes, held back by fear.
[Call me Recruit!] she screamed at Magnolia so loud she heard the echo of her voice coming from the recruit’s earpiece.
‘What?’
[Call me Recruit! Call me Recruit! That is my father and he can’t know I’m an agent!]
James walked towards them, and the world tilted, his footsteps echoing like a Terminator about to make a kill.
‘You’re related to that sack of shit?’ Magnolia hissed.
[Command: slash-serious]
She felt a wave of relief as her body righted itself, and her expression force itself neutral. All of her screams, all of her rage, all of her tears aborted.
‘You’re late, Miss Hammond,’ James said. ‘Can we get moving on this already?’
‘There’s a room upstairs,’ Magnolia said as she pressed the button for the lift.
‘I expected as much, and I see you’re still dressing like a whore.’ He turned to look down at her and she felt sick. ‘Stephanie, I saw your obituary. Can I presume it was wrong and you’re simply brain dead as your presence in an Agency would indicate?’
Words refused to come, and she simply hung her head and stared at her feet as she entered the lift.
She opened her friends list and found Ryan. [Help me.]
[Stef?]
[Help me. Help me. Help me.] She clicked on an option for streaming video, and looked up at her father. [Help me. Please help me. Please help me.]
There was silence in her head for a moment. [I’m in a meeting, but if you need me, I’ll come.]
Meeting. Right. Responsibilities. Agentyness. [No. I can- Just don’t- Just answer me if I call, okies?]
[Of course I will.]
Ryan smiled at her in her HUD, and she felt a half percent better. [Whatever this man has done, he can’t take what you have now, what you’ve achieved, and who you are. You’re my daughter, and I’m so proud of you.]
There but for the grace of /serious, the threatened tears would have fallen, Pokévolved from sad, frightened tears, to happy tears. She gave him a small nod, and broke the connection.
The lift opened, and they stepped out and walked towards the conference room.
‘Hey!’ She turned at the sound of Curt’s voice. He jogged up to her and pressed a folder into her hands. ‘You need to sign this.’
‘Hurry up, Recruit,’ Magnolia snapped.
She looked down at the folder, flipped it open, and required a pen. The pages inside were blank.
She looked up at him, and he looked down at the paper.
Words appeared on the paper. You ok newbie?
She shook her head.
So that’s him?
She gave him a confused look.
Ryan brought me up to speed.
[I’m really not ok. But- But I have do this. I’m an agent and it’s my job.]
I can fake some paperwork and come babysit with you.
[No. I’ve got my job to do, then I want some answers out of him.]
If you’re sure.
[No, but I’ll do it anyway.]
He reached out for her hand, fingers sliding over her palm, and left a large cookie there.
For luck.
She pocketed the cookie, tried to give him a smile, then stepped in the conference room and shut the door.
She took a seat at the foot of the table, letting Mags and her father sit across from each other at the head of the table. Close enough to listen, far enough away to be out of his direct line of sight.
Two hours passed, and she barely noticed.
‘Half hour break,’ Magnolia said she walked past. ‘Don’t be late back.’
She watched the magpie leave the room, wanting to run from the room.
‘Stephanie.’
Ice twisted in her gut as she looked back up the table to her father. ‘What?’
‘Come here.’
The voice of authority. The voice that demanded to be obeyed. The voice that won court cases – and apparently, Court cases. The voice from the study demanding she walk more quietly, or go back to her room, the voice that yelled when she did something wrong.
She got up from her chair, quietly, walked quietly down towards him, and sat in the chair at the head of the table.
He stared at her for a moment. ‘Require me some pasta.’
‘Don’t think for a second you can order me around. I’m not-’
‘Require me some pasta,’ he snapped. ‘The Agency is supposed to be hospitable, if nothing else.’
‘Sorry, aren’t you working for the bad guys?’
‘Only from one very naïve perspective of one faction of one Court,’ he said. ‘This situation doesn’t involve you, so don’t even try to understand what’s going on.’ He stared at her, and she wished the plush leather chair would swallow her. ‘Require me some pasta, or I will make a complaint about you.’
‘Why do you hate me?’
She raised both of her hands to cover her mouth. The question had just slipped out, a lifetime of wondering and self-loathing unable to keep it locked up any more.
‘Require me some pasta.’
She wiped at her eyes. ‘Just answer-’
‘If you want to get anything out of me, Stephanie, you are going to at least feed me.’
She hung her head. ‘What do you want?’
‘Alfredo, and something to go with it, at least a hundred years old.’
She required the pasta, and ran a quick search to pull up a food/wine pairing list, and required the first thing suggested. The glass appeared, beading with condensation, a perfect clone of the picture from the search.
He ate half the bowl of pasta before the question tumbled out again. ‘I need to know why you hate me. I-’
He tapped the end of his fork on the glass tabletop.
Clink.
‘Do you really want to have this conversation, Stephanie?’
‘WHY DO YOU HATE ME?! What the fuck did I ever do to you? Why was I never good enough? The hell, James-’
‘Shut up.’
‘You weren’t our first,’ James said. ‘Your mother. She was pregnant once before. We were still at university, it wasn’t the right time to start a family, so we aborted.’
Clink.
‘We graduated, we moved here, and then we were ready. She got pregnant with you. You. The little thing that ruined our lives. The sad thing is, you don’t look like a monster. The fae at least, they have the decency to look as though they could destroy your world. You, you’re just this innocuous little thing that no one would look twice at.’
Clink.
‘How long have you known about the fae?’
Clink.
‘That’s another conversation entirely, one that has nothing to do with you. The answer is, of course, long enough. Do you want me to continue, or not?’
She gave him a slight nod.
‘The pregnancy was-’ Clink. He looked away for a moment, took a large drink of his wine, then lifted it for a refill like he had always done with the serving staff. She refilled it with a thought, it was easier than arguing. ‘Problematic,’ he said at last. ‘It nearly killed your mother, could have killed the both of you. You were trying to kill my wife before you’d taken your first breath, you little monster.’
‘You can’t blame me for-’
‘Of course I can. No matter how short her first pregnancy was, it was trouble-free. You, on the other hand, were choking the life out of her from the moment you were conceived.’
Clink.
‘That wasn’t my fault.’
‘She rejected you as soon as you were born. I did the only thing I could do, I sided with my wife and tried to keep her from slipping away from me. It took months, but I helped her through it.’
‘And what about me?’
He finished off his glass of wine, and lifted it for another refill. ‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘We were stuck with you. All I could do was hope you become one of the Starbright.’
‘You can’t blame the child for post-partum depression.’
‘Of course I can. And don’t you dare judge, you can’t know how she was feeling, and you never will, given it’s one of the things you’ll never experience.’
‘Did you ever think of me, even once, after you left me at the hospital? Did you regret it once?’
‘My only regret is that Death refused to trade your life for your mother’s. I asked, and she refused.’
‘You what?’
Clink.
‘You heard me, Stephanie.’
‘Stop calling me that.’
‘It’s your name. I refuse to call you by any Agency rank. Now, I have a question of my own.’
Clink.
He twirled his fork for a moment, then slammed it into her hand.
She yelped and tried to pull her hand away, but he grabbed her wrist, lifted it, and pushed the tines right through her hand. He yanked on her wrist and pulled her closer. ‘How did something I father become a fucking agent?!’
She pulled back from him and wrenched her wrist away. She pulled the fork from her hand and dropped it to the table, and watched as her hand healed. She wiped the remaining drops of blood onto her vest and glared at him.
‘Now you can’t even deny it,’ he said.
‘I wasn’t going to,’ she lied. ‘How’d you know?’
‘You don’t make a very good effort to hide it, and with how well I’ve hidden myself from the Agency over the years, I’ve learned how to spot your kind. Now answer my question.’
‘No.’
‘Who’s kink are you?’ he asked. ‘That’s the only reason I can come up with as to why they would-’
She pulled her gun from her holster and slammed it down on the table. ‘You should be glad that I have excellent impulse control.’ She glared back at him, relishing the hate, hiding behind the tiny bit of courage it gave her.
‘Oh, poor you. Poor, stupid you. You have no idea what kind of legal nightmare you would bring down on your precious Agency if you were to lay a hand on me.’
‘Don’t call me stupid, I’m-’
‘Objectively a genius, I know. That’s usually your trump card, isn’t it?’ He shook his head. ‘Your intellect is still pitiable compared to mine. You have an IQ test, a piece of paper that you may brandish and crow about, your actions on the other hand-’
‘You don’t know me!’
‘True, but I know enough to judge you.’
‘Fuck you.’
‘Oh, so eloquent. You’re such a disappointment, Stephanie.’
A message filled her HUD: [Blackout zone: Type M]
What?
Alarms blared in her HUD.
Blackout.
She took her eyes off her father for a moment, and looked around. Agency. They were still in the Agency. The Agency was in a blackout. That couldn’t happen. The Agency was safe. The Agency was safe.
Alarms began to sound, and a recorded voice told everyone to move to the lobby.
This isn’t happening.
She pushed herself out of her chair and went to the window. As far as the she could see, everything was blacked out. A view, clear across the city, and it was just a blackout zone.
‘Oh, gods.’
Pull it together, Agent Mimosa.
‘What?’ James asked.
‘It’s a blackout,’ she said, ‘you’re going to have to go downstairs, and GTFO, Mags is going to have to reschedule.’
‘A blackout?’
‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘so GTFO already.’
She moved to the next window, to get a different vantage point, trying to see any edge of the blackout zone. It didn’t end. It was everywhere. She looked down, and saw the streets full with people – too many, too random as selection for them all to be fae. Big blackout, but not the death of the blue phoenix, possibly a major injury dealt, but-
‘If it’s a blackout, you’re vulnerable, agent.’
‘Yeah, no shit.’
‘You’re such a disappointment, Stephanie.’
Clink.
She spun at the sound.
Not the clink of a fork against glass, the sound of her gun being taken from the table.
The world dropped into slow motion as he raised her gun.
No-
* * * * *
‘Blackout.’
Curt looked up, and saw the fear obvious on Ryan’s face. This wasn’t a time for stupid questions, this wasn’t a time to ask “are you sure?” or argue if they were in an Agency, that they were supposed to be safe.
‘What do we do, sir?’
An alarm began to sound, recorded instructions to drop everything and meet up repeating over and over.
‘Get everyone downstairs,’ Ryan said, ‘lobby. I need to upstairs, to make sure the basement is contained, otherwise that becomes our first priority.’
‘Yes sir.’
He stood, grabbed a thick marker pen from the desk, left the office, and jogged around to the recruit quarters. To their benefit, most of them were already moving quite quickly already. He began to open each room, check for occupants, then scrawl an X on the door.
Quarters cleared, he began to check the other rooms, the storage rooms, the small meeting rooms, the common area and the gym.
He looked into the conference as he went past, saw it empty – Stef and her father were already gone – and reached in to turn the light and air conditioning off – no use in wasting resources in an empty room.
Something froze him, and he took another look at the room. There was something wrong, something out of place. He closed his eyes, cleared his mind, then looked at the room again.
There was a chair missing.
On a normal day, it wouldn’t have mattered – it would have been incongruous – chairs could easily be required, so there was no need to borrow them. This wasn’t a normal day, so everything mattered.
He brushed his hand against his side, felt for his gun, and rounded the table – giving it as wide a berth as possible, just in case there was some sort of chair-eating terror fae waiting to eat recruit instead of-
He saw dirty sneakers.
A chair was tipped over, lying beside her still form.
The carpet beneath her head was a pool of blood.
Tears streamed down his cheeks.
Training told him to check for a pulse, so without anything else to do, he checked for a pulse.
The body was still warm.
He lifted the chair, turned it upright and wheeled it to the far end of the room, out of the way, then moved the other chairs that would prevent the stretcher from getting in.
He crouched beside her. He refused to look at her face, at the bullet wound, the tacky blood, at the-
He reached a hand forward to close her eyes and he heard himself scream, something raw, something dangerous – the sound Taylor would make if he stepped on a toy plastic brick. The image brought quirked his lips a fraction of an inch toward a smile, and tears flowed freely.
She had to look good. He pulled her arms to her sides. She had to look good. He brushed her hair back, feeling blood, bone and brain as he lifted her head slightly. She deserved to look good. He straightened her tie with bloody fingers.
He pulled off his jacket and laid it across her body, leaving the sneakers visible as a means of identification for anyone who saw her.
He wiped his bloody fingers against his pants, wiped his tears on his forearms, pulled his gun from his holster, then ran from the room.
He stepped into the elevator and rode it down, the stillness of the enclosed space reverberating his hitching breath back at him.
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
He punched the wall and his knuckles came away bloody.
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
The doors slid open into the pandemonium of the lobby and the recruits spilling down from upstairs.
The recruits, and the murderer.
‘Recruits, down!’ he shouted as he aimed his gun.
The techs dropped to the floor, hands over their heads. The murderer, not one speck of blood on this expensive suit, gave him a bored look. ‘I’m sorry, what do you think you’re doing?’
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
He could hear someone screaming.
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
He slid his finger off the trigger, and stepped over tech recruits, every movement controlled, every movement measured.
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
‘I had every legal right to-’
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
He swung his gun against the man’s cheek.
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
‘Consider your life over, young man,’ the lawyer said as he reached into his pocket for a handkerchief.
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
He took a step back and levelled the gun. The screaming got louder.
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
Someone slapped the gun from his hand and it went skidding across the floor. The screaming got louder, overwhelming his ears.
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
The gun gone from his hands, he lunged forward. He could kill the man with his bare hands. It was easy enough. Lift and twist and dead.
Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
A huge arm wrapped around his body and he ran on air for a moment. He felt himself yanked back, yanked away from the murderer.
‘Stop.’ Taylor’s voice.
The screaming was louder still.
He swung his arms, twisting in Taylor’s hold, hit the agent with the back of his hand, and swung for another hit. Taylor took the hit, shook him, and put a hand over his mouth.
The screaming stopped.
‘Stop,’ Taylor said again.
He struggled in the agent’s grip, the screaming – his screaming – muffled by the large hand across his mouth.
He watched through a haze of tears as Magnolia hit the lawyer – only hard enough to knock him out – and cuff the unconscious body.
Taylor carried him over the small sea of tech recruits – all of whom were still on the ground, arms over their heads – and out of the lobby. He kicked and struggled against the agent’s immovable grip.
Taylor kicked in the door of one of the small meeting rooms – rooms they used to question people as to whether they needed the Agency or the regular federal police, rooms where the magical nature of the Agency stayed hidden.
Taylor dropped him, and he stayed on the ground. ‘I will-’ he started.
‘Pick your battles,’ Taylor growled. ‘It’s not the time.’
‘He-!’ he heard himself wheezing, out of breath from the screaming, fighting the truth, fighting the reality of having to say it. ‘He-!’
Taylor stooped and grabbed his bloody hand. Stef’s blood. Stef’s blood. Stef’s blood. ‘I guessed,’ Taylor said. ‘It’s not the time.’
‘Not everyone-’
‘You need the right,’ Taylor said, ‘it’s Kings Law. Have the right, then do it.’
‘I don’t care if-’
‘What good are you dead, O’Connor?’
‘He killed Stef,’ his voice tiny, hollow.
‘So don’t do him the courtesy of killing him quickly. Your Solstice training. Use it. You’re good at it.’
‘He killed Stef.’
‘If you’re grieving, stay out of the way.’
Tears dripped onto his hands, and he stared at the floor.
The mountain that was Taylor moved towards the door, then stopped. ‘Ryan?’
‘He doesn’t know.’
‘I’ll deal with it.’
The door closed, and he was left alone in the dark.
The door cracked open. Light invaded the dark room, hurt his eyes, made him focus. Curt looked up, unable to muster the strength to shield himself from the brightness. A man stood silhouetted in the doorway – Ryan. The agent stared down at him for a moment, then entered the room, and joined him on the floor.
He lifted his hands and wiped at his eyes, feeling the dried tears on his cheeks. He knew he looked like shit, but there was nothing he could do, even if he’d cared.
‘I didn’t know where you were, Curt,’ Ryan said. He had the voice of an agent. The uncaring, even tone of some…thing without feelings, without emotions, without- He crashed his train of thought. It was dangerous, it was wrong. It wasn’t a lack of care, it was self-preservation, it was “slash-serious”.
Stef danced through his mind and he felt a stab of despair pierce the numbness. He blinked and tried to look at the agent. ‘Sorry sir,’ he said, his throat raw, dry, hurting. ‘I-’
‘Don’t apologise to me, Curt. Are- Are you all right?’
‘No.’ The answer came out as a whisper, as an admission of defeat.
‘I tried the mirror,’ Ryan said as he came to sit on the floor beside him. ‘I tried and it didn’t work.’ He laid a land on his shoulder. ‘She’s been taken up to the morgue.’
‘Why wouldn’t it work?’
‘I don’t- The mirror can’t bring back the dead.’
‘But she’s-,’ he said. Tears fell again. So many tears. An inexhaustible supply. ‘She’s right there, and she won’t wake up. It’s Stef, she always- She always- Why isn’t she getting up? Why didn’t the wish work? Why- Why-’
The agent hugged him.
He was too tired to scream again, to flail, to ball his hands into fists and curse the heavens. He slumped against the agent, folding in on himself, defeated, grieving. Ryan held on to him, and for a moment, he felt the paternal comfort Stef had ascribed to the agent since practically her first day.
‘Don’t think for a second that I’m not upset. But right now there are a hundred people in this building who need me not to be a grieving father. I have to do my duty, I have to, Curt, I don’t have a choice.’
‘She didn’t die for duty.’
‘As soon as we can, we will deal with him. First we need to keep everyone else safe. We need to hold until this blackout drops. If we don’t, so many more will lose their loved ones.’
‘I don’t care about them,’ he said. ‘What’s the point in-’
‘I would welcome your help,’ Ryan said. ‘And it’s better than staying in here alone.’
‘I can’t.’
‘I need your help, Curt,’ Ryan said after a moment. ‘I can’t do this by myself.’
He nodded against Ryan’s coat and slowly pulled away, straightened and tried to muster some of his professional demeanour.
He felt himself shaking again as they stood. ‘I can’t,’ he said, ‘sir, I can’t.’ He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t concentrate. There was no way he could help anyone else like this.
Ryan squeezed his shoulder. ‘I’m not leaving you here alone.’ The agent put a hand around his shoulder and gently guided him from the dark room.
He tried to force himself to concentrate, to think about something else. To not think about the hole in her forehead, about the blood, about the look of horror that had been in her eyes, eye that she was never going to-
He looked up when he heard the elevator ping – they’d crossed the lobby, and he hadn’t even noticed.
Ryan pressed the button for level two.
‘The situation seems stable for now,’ Ryan said, filling the vacuum. ‘But we’re still keeping everyone downstairs for now. Clarke found a way in, so we have to decide to hold here or move somewhere else until the blackout drops.’
He gave a nod.
He would stay, even if everyone else left. Someone needed to protect her. Someone needed to stay with her. Someone needed to be waiting for when she woke up. She was going to wake up. She was going to wake up. She was going to wake up. She was going to wake up. She was going to wake up. She was going to wake up. She was going to wake up. She was going to wake up.
Ryan gave him a small nudge, and they stepped off the elevator.
It was Stef. She was going to wake up. She wasn’t going to stay dead. She wasn’t dead. She wasn’t dead. She wasn’t dead.
Her lifeless eyes drifted into his mind again, and he held back more tears.
Somehow he made it down the hall to the small conference room without running back to the elevator, back to the eighteenth floor, back to the morgue, back to her.
Clarke and Jones were already there, as were June and Greg. Applebaum stood in the corner smoking a cigarette. He slid into a chair and stared at the silver water jug, at his reflection, at how similar to the mirror it was. He reached out to touch it, and made a wish. The wish didn’t work, but it still contained water, so he poured himself a glass.
Clarke started talking as soon as Mags and Taylor entered, about their numbers, of the capacities of the outpost Agencies, and the willingness of the agents to help. Jones spoke up, and posed the possibility of relocating the techs to a safe house – so long as they were out of the blackout zone, their work wouldn’t be impeded.
He sucked down glass after glass of water, as if it were wine, as if it could give him an answer, or give him peace, or at least the need to piss and an excuse to leave the room.
‘So start thinking,’ Clarke said. ‘In the meantime, we’ll start moving recruits out of here. Like I said, if anyone has fade-capable fae friends, call in your favours.’ There was a pause. ‘I know this is going to make me unpopular. But what are we doing with the mirror?’
He looked up from his empty glass.
‘Clarke-’ Ryan said, his voice strained. ‘Her body isn’t even cold yet.’
‘Sure it is, it’s in the morgue.’
His breath caught, grief-fatigued limbs the only thing stopping him from jumping over the table and tearing out Clarke’s eyes.
‘Not yet,’ Ryan snapped.
‘Terms of experiment 5323 state that-’
‘I think everyone here,’ Jones said, ‘knows what it says.’
‘I don’t,’ he said, surprised at the sound of his own voice. It was something he should have known, something that surely had to be a part of the inches-thick report that constituted the Agency’s view on Stef’s life.
‘To summarise,’ Jones said, his voice soothing. ‘It’s a lot easier to use it for other things now, the paperwork is streamlined, since- Since Stef isn’t in the way anymore, so to speak.’
‘We’re up shit creek,’ Clarke said. ‘This could be our paddle.’
‘We-’ Ryan stared.
Clarke turned on Ryan. ‘She’s dead. I’m sorry, but she’s dead. No pulse, no brain activity and our reader can’t get a read off her. She is dead, and there can’t be anyone at this table stupid enough to be holding out hope that she’s not.’
‘What I was going to say, Clarke,’ Ryan said as he rose from his chair. ‘Is that we can’t just wish our way out of here, we need to consider what we’re wishing for, and if there’s enough power to do so.’
Clarke looked away. ‘Yeah, well, so long as you know that it is going to be used.’
He stood and left the room without a word. No one tried to stop him. No one spoke. No one called after him. No one pulled him back into the room.
He rode the elevator back up in silence, walked down the hall in silence, passed through the infirmary without comment from the cuddling Parkers, and closed the heavy door of the morgue behind him, sealing him in the silent room.
He sat on the floor, opposite the wall of drawers and stared up at where she was – it was the only one with the little occupant card flipped to “in use”. ‘Come on newbie, wake up.’
There was no response from the drawer.
After an hour, the morgue door opened, and the taller of the Parker twins walked in, a blanket and a thermos in hand. He handed both down, and left without a word.
He stood, stretched his legs, and moved across to the wall of drawers, sat beneath them, wrapped the blanket around himself and closed his eyes.
Sleep and dreams came easily. Dreams of Russia. Dreams of hurting her. Dreams of killing her. He woke up, still alone, still in the cold room, still waiting.
He closed his eyes again, determined not to sleep again. If he slept, then she had no way of knowing he was waiting, of knowing people wanted her back, of-
He felt a presence in the room and he opened his eyes.
‘You can’t stay in here,’ Ryan said.
‘I can do whatever I want.’ He said, surprised at the bitterness of his voice.
‘Curt, it’s not-’
‘I can’t leave her alone.’
‘What will you do when they take her heart?’
‘I’m not- I won’t- I won’t let them take it.’
‘I have to do my duty.’
‘You?’
‘Do you think I’d let anyone else do this, Curt?
‘How could you?’
The agent looked hurt for a moment. ‘How could I what? Follow her wishes?’
‘How could she wish-’
Ryan sat beside him. ‘She didn’t expect to live forever, Curt. She knew the cost of coming back, but she still wanted to come back, and live. She knew though, that because of what she was, of how precarious her situation was, of how many unknowns there were, that it might not last forever.’
‘This wasn’t even a year.’
‘It’s longer than what she would have lived if she hadn’t come back at all. She told me, over and over, that she never regretted coming back. That every day she had here was worth whatever cost came with it.’
‘It’s not fair.’
‘Of course it’s not.’
‘She-’
‘She wants to be buried somewhere pretty, in her uniform with Alexandria and Frankie. She wants the heart to be used for Agency purposes, and if there’s anything left over, for that to be given to the Lost.’
‘You’ve seen her will?’
‘I helped her write it.’
‘She- She can’t be dead. She can’t really be dead. It’s Stef. It’s Stef,’ he stressed.
‘Are you going to stay in here?’
He gave a little nod.
‘As you wish,’ Ryan said as he stood. ‘I’ll come get you in the morning.’
* * * * *
The cell block was quiet, darkened, dead. Dull emergency lights were brought up to full illumination as he walked down the hall.
Magnolia, Taylor, whomever had dragged the murderer from the lobby had done the smart thing – placing him in the cell furthest from the lift. It meant that he had more time to calm down, more time to realise it was neither the time nor place to take things into his own hands.
His hands still clenched and unclenched at the thought of squeezing the murderer’s neck, watching the life drain from him, taking revenge.
Revenge was such an ugly word, such an ugly, base concept. It was like justice, but the guilt often outweighed the glorious feeling of righteousness that never seemed to last long enough.
He walked to the end of the cellblock and looked through the unbendable bars that kept him from reaching the murderer. James Mimosa lay on the slab-like bed, his expensive jacket folded beneath his head, hands folded across his stomach.
‘There’s a reason that “bastard” is the worst of insults among agents.’
James sat up and glared at him.
‘We’re bastards, the lot of us, of course we are, we’re artificial beings, we have no parent, but the word is something more. To an agent, “bastard” means that you’re unworthy of being claimed, that no one wants you. It means that no one would ever want to claim kinship. To you, she was a bastard.’
James seemed to relax a little at this. ‘Finally, someone who understands. You’re here to let me out, then?’
‘You murdered my daughter, you bastard.’ His hands shook. Rage. The need to bend the steel bars of the cell and rip the man apart. ‘You aren’t leaving my Agency in one piece. You aren’t leaving my Agency at all.’
‘Sorry, I did what?’
He moved forward and rested one hand against the cool wall. ‘You murdered-’
James got to his feet and stood opposite him. ‘I only destroyed a piece of property I own. If you want to make a counter-claim of-‘
‘You aren’t fae,’ he snapped, ‘you don’t-‘
‘I’m recognised among the Kings, I have free and clear Fairyland citizenship and more than one Court owes me favours. Legally, I get all of the benefits of adhering to Kings’ law. A benefit that I chose to exercise because the stupid cunt put a gun in front of me and was too stupid to realise that I would use it on her. I’m her father- I was her father, I gave her life, and I had the right to take it away.’
‘I am her father!’ he screamed at the lawyer.
‘If that’s what you want to call yourself, agent, go ahead. Carry her ash around, send it to school, and watch as even her remains manage to disappoint you.’
He reached through the bars, wrapped a hand around the lawyer’s throat and squeezed.
‘The only reason I am not going to kill you,’ he said as James struggled for air. ‘Is that my Aide was a Solstice interrogator of exceptional skill. Skill he will rejoice in using on you.’ He let the man go and shoved him to the floor before withdrawing his arm from the cell.
‘‘You can’t touch me, agent.’
‘Do you really think I care about the legal ramifications?’
‘You should.’
‘I suggest,’ he said as he straightened his tie, ‘that you make your peace. Whatever comes tomorrow for you, it will not be peaceful and it will not be quick.’
* * * * *
Curt started awake, pulling himself from a shallow, dreamless sleep. He was lying on the cold floor, the blanket failing to provide enough warmth. His neck ached, his back ached, his heart ached.
He rummaged in his pocket for the phone he’d been issued as soon as the emergency situation had become official. Fairy network – a smartphone of course, but not a very advanced one by fairy standards. It only needed to be enough – a way to contact agents and other recruits if there was a blackout, or something else to interfere with the system.
He stared blearily at the digits – shortly past one in the morning.
Two choice became clear as the screen blinked out. The first was the easiest, to give up, to stay in the cold room until he was dragged from there. To no longer care about duty, about the uniform, about the word. Cowardice, she had made a point of telling him, was always the easiest option.
The second was the one he knew he’d take. The one to get up, to move, to keep going. To be an Aide and continue to prove his worthiness, to be useful, but alone.
He wiped his eyes again.
It would have been easier if she’d killed him in Russia. It would have been easier if she’d demanded he was transferred, so she didn’t have to look at the his face – the face of someone who had hurt her and laughed – every day. It would have been easier if she hadn’t forgiven him. It would have been easier if she hadn’t been the only thing to make him feel human.
He stood on stiff legs, nearly slipping on the cold floor.
He looked to the drawer, and knew as surely that he was going to be by Ryan’s side in the morning that he wasn’t going to leave the room without saying goodbye.
He clapped his hands together and blew on them, trying to get some feeling back, then grasped the cold handle, pulled open the door, and slowly wheeled out the drawer.
There’d been no reason for an autopsy, no reason to remove her uniform, but they hadn’t even bothered with a sheet. The only little dignity afforded to her was a small strip of cloth across her forehead, covering the wound, some pretence that she was just sleeping, just lying in the infirmary with a head wound.
Stiff. Cold. Unmoving.
‘Stef. Newbie, please. Please.’
The corpse gave no response.
He put a hand to her face, and whispered a goodbye, then pulled it away.
He looked at her one more time.
There was something wrong.
He closed his eyes, cleared his mind, then opened them again, trying to see what was wrong.
Her eyes were open.
His heart jumped into his throat.
‘Newbie?’
He put a hand in front of her mouth and nose.
He felt something.
The tiniest bit of warmth tickled his fingers.
His hand and his heart, went still. After the longest moment ever, he felt curls of heat against his skin.
Breath.
Her eyes were open.
His heart jumped into his throat.
‘Newbie?’
He put a hand in front of her mouth and nose.
He felt something.
The tiniest bit of warmth tickled his fingers.
His hand and his heart, went still. After the longest moment ever, he felt curls of heat against his skin.
Breath.
She screamed, and he recoiled in fear, backing up against the far wall of the morgue before he knew what he was doing. She screamed again, a deep, painful noise as though she was emptying herself out. He ran back across to her, grabbing her arms, touching her face, shaking her, anything to try and wake her up.
‘Stef! Stef! Come on!’
She thrashed under his grip, throwing herself off the drawer and onto the floor with into a pained heap.
A blue outline skimmed her curled body, growing brighter and brighter. It tried to pull away, and he saw it for what it was – her soul.
‘Don’t leave!’ he screamed, trying to grab the soul. ‘Don’t leave!’
The blue ghost of his newbie tried in vain to pull itself away from her body, eyes wide and uncomprehending, face twisted in torment, screaming like a siren, the sound of hurting his ears, his heart, his soul.
‘Gods, please don’t-‘
The screaming stopped as it seeped back into her body, and she went still, no more screaming, no more thrashing.
He slid to the ground beside her and pulled her head onto his lap.
She wasn’t moving.
She was breathing.
He pushed the hair back from her face, seeing the bullet wound gone.
With nothing better to do, he checked her pulse. It was there, strong and healthy and alive and alive and alive she was alive she was alive she was alive. ‘Stef?’
She gave no response.
‘Stef?’
Her eyes opened slowly, but looked straight past him, not focused on anything, not seeing anything.
‘Stef?’
She still gave no response.
He stood, awkwardly, lifting her as he did, unwilling to let her go for even a second. He had to hold her, to keep her there, to keep her alive, she was alive, she was alive, she was alive.
He felt his body shaking with relief, with joy, with new fears, with the cold.
He kicked open the door to the infirmary and called for the Parkers.
No response.
The infirmary was empty – they’d probably gone downstairs with everyone else. He put her onto the closest bed and wrangled her into a sitting position, her legs hanging off the side, one arm still wrapped around her as he fumbled for his phone.
Cold, stiff fingers scrolled through the phone book for the emergency number assigned to Ryan. He put it on speaker, and laid it on the bed beside her.
‘Stef?’
Still nothing.
He waved a hand in front of her eyes, and she didn’t even blink. He snapped his fingers, and she gave no response.
He checked her pulse again as the call timed out. He scowled, and tried Jones’ number.
It only took two rings for the tech to answer. ‘Curt?’
‘She woke up.’
There was silence for a moment. ‘I’ll go get him,’ Jones said. ‘He went with Darren so he could be in a system area.’
He looked into Stef’s no-one-home eyes. ‘What do I do with her? Where are the doctors, what do-?’
‘I don’t know,’ Jones said, ‘I don’t know what to do, just hold on.’
The phone call ended, and he slipped the phone back into his coat pocket. After a moment, he took his coat off, kicked it under the bed, and began to dig out medical supplies from the close cabinets, trying to keep at least one hand on her as much as he could.
He tied her hair back with a rubber band, and began to clean her face off – there was no need for her to wake up to a face covered in her own blood, brain and-
‘Gods, it’s not-’
It couldn’t be that simple. It was impossible for it to be that simple. He squeezed both of her hands for a moment, then raced across the infirmary, digging through drawers for a small instrument.
The doctors didn’t look after the agents – at least they didn’t in Queen St, some Agencies were different, but with a lack of medical recruits, Jones and the Parkers happily split the workload – Parkers worked on blood, Jones worked on blue.
Agency infirmaries were just that though – Agency, and always equipped to handle agents despite the choice of the staff.
He found the small, slim device at the back of a drawer. It looked sort of like the lovechild of an EpiPen and a calculator. A pointy end under a cap, a couple of buttons and a tiny screen. He ran back across to her, held her hand palm up, and pressed the small needle into her thumb and waited for the reading.
The screen gave him a zero reading. No blue. She had no blue in her system. He looked to the clock – it was just after one in the morning. He had found her just after four. Nine hours, give or take a few minutes. Nine hours for all of her blue to disappear.
He tossed the device onto the nearest cabinet and went back to her. She was an agent – the logical thing to do all the time was pump her full of blue, it was the first step any doctor took, it was the first thing a tech did. Blue was always the answer.
Blue wasn’t an answer if she wasn’t an agent.
A reading of zero meant she was physically human. As human as a girl with a dead planet for a heart could be anyway. Human meant no blue, meant regular first aid. Regular first aid was easy.
Her hand twitched, and he jumped. Slowly, her fingers wrapped around his thumb.
‘Stef?’
Her eyes were still dull, still unfocused, still unresponsive.
He stared at her for a moment, then slumped. This was nothing that simple first aid could handle, this was nothing that taking a pulse, applying a bandage, and kissing a scraped knee could deal with.
He hopped up onto the bed beside her, wrapped his free arm around her, and held her slowly-warming form.
Dried blood in her hair scratched against his cheek. She still smelt like the morgue. ‘Hey, newbie, it’s ok, I’m here.’
She was still, nothing more than tiny silent breaths moving her body. Her fingers stayed clamped around his thumb, holding onto it as if it would bring her back, a tether to the living world.
Snow White. Sleeping Beauty. Princesses woken with a kiss. It always worked in fairy tales. The world was magic, and grains of truth could be found in even the most stripped-down, family-friendly versions of the stories. He leaned close, and gave her a tiny kiss on her warming cheek. Her skin felt rubbery under his lips, cold, zombie-ish, dead and she remained as still as she had been, unresponsive and locked away from the world.
He held her closer, and looked to the door, waiting for people who actually knew what they were doing to come and save the day.
She moved slightly under his hands, and he heard words, soft as an exhale.
He leaned closer, his ear right next to her mouth. ‘What did you say, newbie?’
A little more movement, and more warm breath against his ear. ‘...boy germs.’
He blinked back tears and squeezed her tightly for a moment, then gently turned her so he could look at her. ‘Hey newbie.’
She blinked for the first time since opening her eyes, and focused on him. ‘Am I back?’ her voice was so faint, he had to strain to hear it.
‘You’re right here.’
Her arm moved, and he flinched at the sudden motion. With clumsy, newborn, stiff moves, she crawled into his lap, pushed her small chest against his and held him tightly. Her chin locked over his shoulder, and she went still again.
He adjusted one arm to wrap around her small waist, to stop her from slipping off the bed, the other rubbing small circles across her back.
He looked to the door again, wishing for the cavalry.
‘Where did I go?’ she asked, her voice still cracked and unsure.
‘I don’t know Stef, you’ll have to tell us.’
‘I came back.’
‘Took you long enough,’ he said, his voice cracking.
She squeezed his shoulder with her chin for a moment, then moved to look at him, her nose squishing against his. ‘Boy, why are you crying?’
‘Because you died, newbie.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise,’ he said, trying to wipe the tears from his eyes without losing hold of her.
She shook his head slightly at him, fished his tie out from his vest, and dried his eyes. ‘Better?’
‘We lost you.’
She shook her head again. ‘I don’t get lost, I just get…misplaced.’ She moved back a bit, took one hand away from him and pushed it to the back of her head. ‘Just the one shot?’
He nodded. ‘I’m already hating myself for asking this, but are you ok?’
‘I thought that- I thought maybe if I died, maybe it would nightmares forever, like being awake, being alive was the only thing stopping me from sliding into hell.’
‘It wasn’t?’
She clutched at his shirt.
‘Hey, hey, shh, sorry, you don’t have to-’
The door burst open and Ryan ran into the room. He made a move to let Stef go, to let Ryan grab her, but he was caught up and the agent’s wide-armed hug.
‘You need to stop doing this,’ Ryan said after a long hug. ‘Stef, you-’
‘Sorry, I’m sorry, I-’
‘Don’t be sorry, just-’
‘Don’t be dead,’ she finished, ‘I know, I know, it’s not like I do it on purpose!’
‘I know,’ Ryan said as he lifted her away, and held her, her legs dangling like a rag doll. ‘I know. I’m just glad- Stop making me lose you.’ He placed her back down onto the infirmary bed, then patted down his pockets and produced a bag of cookies. ‘I thought you might need these, since our system connection is-’
‘Where the fsck is my HUD?’ she squeaked suddenly.She waved her hand in front of her face. ‘Did I forget how to turn it on?’
He slowly raised his hand and waited for them to notice.
‘Mister O’Connor, in the back,’ the voice of Agent Jones said. Ryan stepped aside and the tech joined them, wheeling in a cart of equipment. ‘Sorry, some of this stuff was hard to find.’
Ryan looked at him. ‘You know something?’
‘Actually, sir, I’ve got a theory for a lot of this, if you don’t mind.’
Ryan helped Stef open the bag of cookies, then gave him a nod. ‘Go ahead, Curt.’
‘She doesn’t have any blue in her, none, I already tested her, otherwise she’d be hooked up to an IV.’
‘Oh gods,’ Jones said. He pulled a phone from his lab coat pocket, stared at it for a moment, then leaned heavily against his equipment cart. ‘It’s obvious, but- I never thought of that, or if I did, I dismissed it.’
‘I think I’ve missed something,’ Ryan said.
‘Nine hours, sir. Her blue was cockblocking her heart. I mean,’ he shook his head, ‘you know what I mean.’
Ryan turned back to the look at the tech. ‘Jones?’
‘Makes perfect sense, actually,’ Jones said, ‘if you think about it. We had to make the mirror subservient to her blue in order for her agent functions to operate as close to normal as they could. We didn’t think about it after that, we focused on the system side of things.’ The tech paused. ‘It’s not like we could have tested this anyway,’ he said quietly. ‘If you were a normal agent, you’d be dead, Stef.’
‘Freak one, normalcy zero,’ she said with a slight smile. She hung her head for a moment, then looked up. ‘Ok, I’m done with this for the moment. Catch me up. We still blacked out? Who did it? All that stuff.’
‘We’re still blacked out,’ Ryan said, ‘and given the scope of the blackout, we have to assume it was the blue phoenix was harmed.’
‘How many dead?’
‘Just you,’ Ryan said, ‘now none.’
So it’s blacking us out, but it’s not stripping out the muggles?’
‘Something like that,’ Ryan said.
Jones gave a polite cough. ‘I need to get back to work.’
‘Of course,’ Ryan said, and the tech left the room.
‘i-‘ Stef said. ‘I think I need to have a shower. We’ve still got lights, do we have hot water?’
Ryan nodded to her, then turned to him. ‘Do you mind if she uses your room?’
‘Sure newbie,’ he said, ‘go ahead.’
Ryan pulled Stef close for a moment. ‘Go on, we’ll catch up in a minute.’
She nodded, and walked from the room. He watched her leave, praying she wouldn’t disappear as soon as he took his eyes off her, blinked back a couple of tears, then looked around the infirmary.
‘One question and one piece of advice,’ Ryan said as he leaned against the infirmary bed beside him. ‘The advice first. She deals with this in her own time. She might seem fine now, she might seem fine later, she processes this in her own way, all we can do is be there for her when she needs us.’
‘Yes sir.’
He hopped of the bed and retrieved his jacket from under the bed.
‘Are you going to tell her how you feel?’ Ryan asked him as he slipped it back on.
‘...am I what, sir?’
‘Tell her how you feel, Curt.’
‘I already told her I’m glad she’s back, she’s taking it- I didn’t expect her to be so normal. I know she’s got some practice, and now I’ve got some idea of what you’ve been through, but-’
‘I didn’t mean that.’
He stared at the agent. ‘Sorry sir, I don’t-’
‘You didn’t leave her side. Think about that for a moment.’
He forced a quirk smirk, uncomfortable with how serious Ryan looked. ‘Confidentially, sir, I’m thinking about how my bladder isn’t so frozen anymore.’
The agent’s expression remained serious. ‘Curt.’
He adjusted his uniform. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir’
‘Stop, and think for a moment. Please, indulge me.’
He squirmed as Ryan looked down at him, so closed his eyes to escape a little just a few millimetres. Stef. Waiting for Stef. Not a good title for a play, and the worst way to spend a night. Worst way. Worse than torturing her. Worse than being tortured. Worst night of his life. Understandable. Completely understandable. She was his friend. She was his best friend. She was the best and she had died. She had left him alone. Taken away the only small bit of solid happiness in his life.
She’d left him alone. Alone where no one would indulge and nurture his closet nerdiness. Alone where there was no one to smile at him and make him feel half human, feel like a good person. No one to cling to. No one to hold to make the nightmares and memories go away.
Four nights in three weeks. Three and the “droids” incident. Three nights where he had someone to share his bed, to connect with, to fall asleep with and just hold and be held. Three nights of cuddles and hugs that rivalled any wild night he’d spent with the most talented of fae girls.
Stef. Newbie. The little hacker girl that he couldn’t live without because-
His heart skipped a beat as he opened his eyes. ‘...oh crap.’
‘Not...quite the reaction I was expecting,’ Ryan said with a small smile.
He took a step away from the agent, out of Ryan’s immediate punching range. A step away from the truth. ‘Sir, I’m not- It’s Stef, I’m not-’
‘Stop.’
He deflated, confusion and fear rooting him to the spot. ‘Yes sir.’
‘Now tell me what you think.’
He closed his eyes for a moment, and hoped his death would be quick. ‘I think I might have non-platonic feelings towards Stef.’
‘I think you’re in love with her, Curt.’
His execution stayed for a moment, he backed away another step. ‘I’m not!’
‘Curt.’
Ryan had an agent’s voice. A sensible voice. A voice that demanded an end to bullshit. He swallowed. ‘Yeah...maybe. Yeah, I think I am.’ He sank down to his knees, hands covering his face as tears came. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’m sorry! I won’t let this- Gods! I’m sorry! It’s ok, I won’t- I’m so sorry, sir. I’ll stay away from her, transfer me if you want to, but I swear I won’t-’
He fought an urge to curl in on himself, as he’d done with Petersen. If Ryan wanted to kick him to death, then he wasn’t going to-
A handkerchief was pushed into his hand. ‘Curt-’
He looked to the agent crouching in front of him, not screaming, not threatening. He had a chance. A chance to make it all go away. A chance to make his feelings disappear. ‘I didn’t mean for this to happen! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’
‘What makes you think I disapprove, Curt?’
The question stopped him. The answer was obvious. ‘Because it’s me?’ he said, wondering if long exposure to a blackout could impair an agent’s faculties.
‘You’re-’
‘I’m a piece of shit.’
‘You’re a good man.’
‘No, sir, I’m really not. Look at everything I’ve done, look at- Why aren’t you punishing me?!’
‘Look at how you feel about it, Curt. That’s how you know you’re a good man. If you didn’t feel guilt, if you didn’t regret what you’d done, then you’d be justified in feeling like a monster. Monsters don’t hold graveside vigils, holding out hope, that’s what good men do, that’s what you do for someone you love.’
‘Of course I love her,’ The words came so easily. So naturally. ’She’s my friend. She’s my best friend. I’m not going to ruin that just because-‘
‘Stop.’
‘Yes sir.’
‘I’ve known people who’ve ruined friendships by adding romance, and I’ve also known people who’ve had the strongest relationships because they were friends, and that the foundation, their friendship, could pull them through anything.’
‘You’re her father,’ he said, staring down at his feet. ‘Everything I’ve done aside, why would you even-‘
‘You both deserve to be happy,’ Ryan said. ‘And I think you could be right for each other. Don’t you owe it to you both to at least consider it?’
‘I don’t want to hurt her.’
‘And you still wonder if you’re a good man,’ Ryan said, shaking his head. ‘Just think about it.’ Ryan lifted the towels. ‘Come on, we should check on her.’
‘This isn’t taking a shower.’
Stef raised her head and looked over to the conference room door. ‘Sorry.’ She unwrapped her arms from her knees. ‘I- I just needed to see. I just needed to-’ She looked back down to the dried puddle of blood. ‘Sorry.’
Ryan offered a hand down to her. ‘Come on, up off the floor, young lady.’
She lifted her hands and let him pull her up. ‘I don’t want to leave just yet. Please. Just. Not yet.’ Ryan turned a chair for her, and she sat. He sat beside her, and Curt sat opposite. ‘It was my fault,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have been in here. I shouldn’t have let him get my gun. But- You’ve got understand, I needed to know.’
‘Know what, newbie?’
‘He told me why he hated me,’ she said. ‘But…then I realised that he’d told me before. I remember because…cause it’s the only story he ever told me. I’d forgotten about it, cause I just thought it was just a crappy fairy tale. A story he’d made up because he didn’t want to take the time to read a whole book to me.’
‘There was a king and a queen, and they were very happy. They had all the treasures in the world, but they wanted a child.’
‘A child began to grow within the queen, the world’s most perfect little girl. A princess to make their life complete.’
‘They planted a rose garden for the princess, beautiful flowers that would bloom on the day she was born.’
‘A shadow saw the king and the queen and the little growing princess. A little horrible creature that had no family of its own, and it grew jealous the king and his wife.’
‘The shadow saw the princess, sleeping in her mother, and slipped in one night. The shadow tried to share with the little princess, but the shadow didn’t know how to share, only how to hurt.’
‘Slowly, the little princess choked, and the shadow took her place. On the day it was born, the roses died and the queen cried. She cried for the little princess she’d lost, and at the fate of being stuck with the nasty little shadow.’
She wiped tears away.
‘He…well, they, both of them, but my mother was weirder. Problematic pregnancy.’ She turned to Ryan. ‘I know I started it, but don’t call me a problematic pet any more, that’s something else I remembered. But it wasn’t pet. It was pest. He used to call me that when he was only mildly annoyed, and it just stuck in my head as something I should be called. Because I am. Problematic.’
‘No,’ Ryan said gently, ‘no, you’re not.’
‘Bad pregnancy, post-partum and failure to bond, that’s why my mother rejected me. But…she tried, at least a little. She had certain ideas about how having a child should be. That’s why I was a ballerina, that’s why I had a pony, that’s why, that’s why all that stuff. There were times when I aligned with her ideas, and in those moments, she truly loved me. Well, Stephanie. Even then I was splitting myself in two. Stephanie was the ballerina, the good girl, the one mother could love. Stef was me when I was alone, when I was really me.’
Ryan squeezed her hand.
‘She tried. James never did. I- I tried to convince myself that it was normal. But it wasn’t. I could see that, all the books I read with the loving parents. That’s how storybooks tell it, either the parents are great, or they’re dead. Nothing in between. Nothing to help me try and understand why they wouldn’t just hug me!’
She turned away, angry at herself for crying, then looked back to Ryan.
‘Why do you think I remember you? Other than the fact that it must have been fscking traumatising on some unconscious level,’ her voice started to strain. ‘You were kind to me.’ She bit her lower lip and felt tears brimming up again. ‘You were kind, how could I not think you were an angel?’
‘Stef-‘
‘He killed me. I’m that worthless that he just killed me.’
‘You’re not worthless,’ Ryan and Curt said in unison.
‘But I am, to him. Try growing up in a household where you know you’re smart, but any time you try to express that, or do something with it, you’re shouted down and made to feel like a complete ignoramus. I stopped giving a fuck about my academic achievements when I was still in primary school, but at least I still had the grades to back it up. Competitions or whatever, no chance, couldn’t enter them, or they’d make excuses as to why I couldn’t attend. I kept trying. If I’d been dumb it would have been easier, or if I’d played dumb, maybe I could have learned to like it, and maybe…maybe things would have been different.’
‘You would have been miserable,’ Ryan said.
‘I was already miserable,’ she said. ‘One should not be a bitter, miserable cynic by age nine. One should not be resigned to the idea that no one could ever love them by age ten. James sold my pony, because I puked on him, that’s all the proof I needed to know how absolutely unworthy of love I was. I begged him and I scream and I cried and I didn’t even get to say goodbye. If you want to give a little girl proof there’s no god, take her pony away and tell her it’s being sold for glue.’
Curt set his jaw. ‘I’ll carve a pony into his chest for you. Say the word and-’
‘No,’ she snapped, forcing some volume into her voice. She leaned forward. ‘No. Don’t you dare.’
‘There’s no way that fuckstain is going to leave here alive,’ Curt said. ‘I mean, you can have a go yourself, but let me give you pointers.’
‘No,’ she said again. ‘You hate what you can do, I’m not going to ask you to do that for my own selfish gain when I know how much it’ll make you hate yourself.’
‘Newbie-’
‘Ryan.’
Taylor’s voice.
Ryan stood, and she spun on her chair, enjoying Taylor’s look of shock as he saw her. ‘You’re not dead,’ he said, recovering in a second.
She gave a one-shouldered shrug. ‘Sorry?’
He grunted, then looked to Ryan. ‘One of Clarke’s fae has come to collect you, Director’s meeting.’ Taylor paused. ‘Contingency 32. Are they making a decision?’
‘Hopefully this time, they will, they were supposed to decide this morning, but it got delayed. Gods, I am not looking forward to this.’ Ryan looked down to her. ‘Will you be all right?’
‘As much as I can be.’
‘Get some rest?’
‘As much as I can.’
Ryan held her for a moment, parted her hair to find a spot that wasn’t covered with dried blood, kissed her, then left the room with Taylor.
‘Can I-’ she started to ask as she looked at Curt.
‘You can sleep with me on one condition,’ he said. ‘You take that shower you said you were going to have.’
‘But I don’t wannnnnnnnna,’ she whined, then nodded. ‘Actually, I kinda do.’
‘I don’t have any clean clothes in your size though.’
She stood. ‘Go dig in my office couch,’ she said. ‘Lift out the cushions, there’s an apocalypse kit hidden in there, just grab a couple of the uniform bags, one for now, one for morning.’
‘Apocalypse kit?’
‘There’s also riot gear and rations, but I don’t think we need any of that.’
‘Why am I not surprised?’
She stuck out her tongue, then smirked. ‘Because you’ve met me before?’
They walked from the conference room, and parted ways at the end of the corridor.
She walked down the way too quiet hall to his room, opened the unlocked door, and stepped into the small bathroom. She closed the door and let out a deep breath.
She kicked off her shoes, then peeled off her socks, glad of the faint stinky-foot smell, the banality of it in amongst death and rebirth and apocalypse was wonderful. She loosened her belt and stepped out of her pants, then pushed on her underwear, the blue cotton panties sliding down her legs to join her pants.
Button by button, she opened the front of her vest, then held it closed for a moment before sliding it off. She stared at the back of it, at the gore – her gore – and choked back another sob. She ran her fingers over the dried remnants of herself, then released it from her hands.
Her shirt came next, again, one button at a time, and she could feel the stained collar sliding against her neck with every movement. She pushed it away from her shoulders, not bothering with another horror show, pulled off the purposeless bra and stared at her naked form in the mirror on the back of the door.
Mirror, mirror…
Scars, old and new, stood out on her skin. The old ones, from the crash, the ones that had killed her chances of a normal life, of being a real girl, or being a mother, of being a princess. The newer ones, the ones that given her everything. She put a hand over her heart, tracking each of the scars, the thick line that showed where the mirror had entered her, the tiny, thins ones from where a howler had clawed her heart from her chest, the thin scars from cutting herself open, and the new one from Ryan cutting her open to try and wish her back.
‘Newbie?’
‘In here.’
‘Never would have guessed,’ Curt said as he opened the door. He stared at her. ‘You do know you’re naked, right?’
She shrugged and grabbed one of the bags off him. ‘You’ve seen my scars. Didn’t think you needed a warning.’
He opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head and walked out of the bathroom.
She showered quickly, the blood coming away easily under the hot water. She dried herself, then tore open the bag, placed the uniform aside and dressed in her emergency code monkey clothes – cargo pants and a black shirt declaring that she sometimes knew what she was doing.
She pulled open the door of the bathroom and walked across the main room. Curt lay on the bed, already changed into a loose shirt and a pair of blue boxers. ‘Not wearing shoes, permission to board?’
‘Granted,’ he said.
She lifted the blanket and slid into the bed. ‘Coming in?’ she asked, tugging on the blanket. He sat for a moment, not saying anything, then stood, flicked off the lights, and slid into bed beside her.
‘You ok?’ she asked.
‘You’re asking me that?’ he asked, incredulity in his voice.
‘Of course I am.’
‘We lost you,’ he said as he rolled onto his side to look at her. ‘And now you’re back, and you’re ok, and-‘
‘These things happen,’ she said. ‘At least they do to me.’
‘Don’t do it again.’
‘I can’t make any promises.’
‘Make a statement of intent?’
‘I’ll try not to die again,’ she said. ‘Please. No more death talk. I can’t- Tomorrow. Or the day after. Okies?’
Horror filled his face. ‘I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-’
She put a hand against his chest. ‘Relax. You’re doing fine. I’m just tired.’
He laid a hand on hers. ‘You shouldn’t be the one comforting me.’
‘And there’s not rules to life.’ She turned over and backed up against him. ‘I don’t think we get tomorrow off just cause I died, so we need sleep.’
For a moment, he rested his forehead against the back of her head, then retreated. ‘Night newbie.’
* * *
Skin touched skin, and it was perfect.
All he could hear was breathing, all could feel was pleasure spiking through his system.
She lay on top of him, warm, sexy, perfect, hair tumbling over her shoulders as she kissed him.
Someone slapped him in the face.
Curt sat up, blinking in the dark room. He touched his face, and looked down, and saw Stef flailing in her sleep as she drooled onto the slightly lumpy pillow that she’d unequivocally claimed as her own.
An erection strained against his boxers.
‘Great,’ he muttered.
‘Of course Zaphod was a Cylon,’ Stef said, then rolled over, nearly falling off the bed.
He shook her head, grabbed her shoulder and back towards the middle the of the bed.
‘Nurg,’ she said. ‘Is it morning?’
He put his pillow over her face. ‘Yeah, but I got the shower first, so sleep a bit longer, ok?’
* * *
Stef stared into the pillow over her face, imagining oceans and buried treasure in the folds of fabric. The dream logic of how everyone was in fact either a Cylon or Timelord – except those that were ninjas of various animal varieties – was fading, not even leaving her enough for a decent tech department discussion.
She needed to pee.
She pulled the pillow away from her face and looked towards the bathroom – she could hear the faint sounds of running water from behind the door.
‘Don’t think of running water, don’t think of running water.’
Oh, who are you kidding?
She extracted herself from the sheets and ran into the bathroom.
‘Cover boybits,’ she demanded as she ran across to the toilet.
‘...newbie?’
‘Sorry, I’m not used to holding it anymore!’ Relief washed over her as her now-not-so-latently human biology performed its business.
The shower stopped running. ‘Can you toss me a towel?’ he said. She reached across, snagged the corner of a towel, and tossed it up over the shower curtain rail. ‘Coming out,’ he said. She grabbed her t-shirt and pulled it down to cover her knees. The curtain was pulled back and he stepped out, towel secured around his waist.
‘There’s never going to be a good time to tell you this,’ he said. He put a hand over his mouth, took a deep breath, then looked up. ‘But I’m in love with you. Sorry.’
He turned, and slammed the door as he left the room.
She stared at the door. ‘What. The. Fuck.’
Did he just-?
Yeah, Spyder, he did.
The fuck?
Get out there already!
She quickly finished in the bathroom and followed him out into the main room. He sat on the edge of the bed, still only wearing the towel, his head in his hands, tears dripping through fingers.
‘Hey-’
For the love of god, tread gently.
She swallowed, and took a step closer. ‘Sometimes I get a bit confused after I come back.’
He took his hands away from his face. ‘You’re not confused,’ he said, his voice thick and choked. ‘I said I love you.’
‘Why-’ She swallowed. ‘Clarification, please. You said “in love” right? Like the- The in love kind. With the romance and stuff. Not love like friends.’
‘With the romance and stuff,’ he confirmed as he stared down at the carpet. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s my fault,’ she said as she sat on the bed beside him. ‘I mean, you’re stuck spending all of your time with me, so you just got confused.’
‘You can transfer me if you want,’ he said, ‘but you’ll have to wait until after the emergency situation is officially over.’
‘Maybe we can get you some sort of human version of Procedure 19, I’m sure the Parkers have something can mess with your head in the right way.’
‘Believe me, Agent Mimosa, I’ll be completely professional no matter what you decide. I just- Fuck it, I shouldn’t have said anything. I can disappear right now if you want.’
‘I’m not gonna make you leave, Ryan really needs you, but I’ll keep away from you. Do you-’ She snapped her fingers. ‘I could buy you like a week at that place Carmichael runs, that should- Should like reset you so you’re looking at real girls again, and not at whatever the fuck I am.’
‘Newbie?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Do you think that I’m upset because I feel something for you?’
‘Of course you are,’ she said. ‘I mean, it’s like going for a lucky dip but instead of a prize you get a spider and that spider is made of those ants that bite.’
‘...newbie?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Do you think the reason I’m wishing that someone would kills those phoenixes right now is that because I hate feeling something for you?’
‘Well, yeah. I mean-’
‘I forget sometimes that you’re a genius. I’ll use small words.’ He went to his knees in front of her, hands resting on her thighs. ‘Stef, I love you.’
‘I know that’s why you’re-’
‘I love you. I love you and you’re- You’re-’ He choked on the lump on his throat. ‘And I’m some rotten thing that could never- Never have a chance.’
‘You like me?’
He gave her a nod.
‘And you- You like liking me?’
Another nod.
‘Why would you?’
‘Why wouldn’t I?’
‘Just because I’m the person you’re stuck spending time with-’
‘You love hazelnuts and you hate your hair being pulled. You- You make me feel like I have half a chance of being a good man. Any shot I have at making something of my life will be thanks to you. You don’t recoil from me, and you let me touch you after everything I’ve done. I’d- I’d be good to you. I’d try. I’d try so hard. However you want, but just let me be yours. Please.’ He laid his head on her lap and sobbed for a moment. ‘But if you don’t-’
‘Stop,’ she whispered.
He nodded against her legs. ‘Ok. Sorry. Ok.’
‘Is this real?’
He attempted a smile. ‘Should I pinch you?’
‘No, I mean- Tell me that you aren’t doing this to be nice or whatever. That’s it’s not like the romantic equivalent of a pity fuck, or...or one of those high school plots where you have date the gorgon.’
He lifted a hang to her face, and smiled. ‘Of course it’s not.’
She felt...squishy. And warm. And good.
Oh gods- ‘-this is real.’
He nodded. ‘Are you- Do you want me to- You’re not obligated to-’ He paused for a moment. ‘Is it ok if I like you, Stef?’
‘Yeah. If- If- If you want. No!’ She pulled back from his hand. ‘I mean. Yeah. But.’
He looked devastated. ‘Newbie, you don’t-’
‘There’s a couple of things you have to know first. It could change your mind. You should have all the facts before-’
‘Nothing you could say would-’
She closed her eyes. ‘I can’t have kids.’ She hunched in on herself. ‘I don’t even know if I can have sex,’ she whispered. ‘Everything got messed up, and I don’t know-’
The hand returned to her face. ‘Do you think that matters to me?’
She kept her eyes closed. ‘I’m-’
‘Newbie.’
She opened her eyes.
‘Is it ok if I like you?’
She swallowed, and gave him a tiny nod. ‘Yeah.’
He leaned a little closer, the fingers on her face extending, playing with her hair. ‘May I kiss you?’
‘I’ve- I’ve never had a grown-up kiss.’
He leaned closer, his stomach pressing into her knees. ‘I’ll be gentle.’
‘Wait,’ she whispered. ‘Tell me what to do.’
‘Close your eyes.’
‘K.’
She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes.
Breathe. Just breathe.
She felt his breath against her face, then his lips touched hers.
After a brief second of contact, he pulled away.
‘Should I feel like marshmallow?’ she asked as she opened her eyes.
He grinned, his face splitting, all traces of his devastation gone. ‘So you’re ok then?’
‘Yeah.’ She raised a hand and touched her lips. ‘You can still back out. You can-’
‘If you keep talking,’ he said, ‘I can’t kiss you again.’
She pinched her thumb and forefinger, zipped her lips and threw away the key.
He took her hands in his, and kissed each finger in turn, each as small and chaste the as the way he’d kissed her mouth. He smiled at her, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her again, another fleeting touch, another dose of the warm marshmallowy feeling.
There was a knock at the door.
He shot to his feet. Minus the towel.
‘So,’ she said amazed at how calm her voice was. ‘That’s a penis.’
He gave a half-strangled-choke, half-shriek and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door for the second time that morning.
She looked across to the door. ‘Come in!’
Ryan opened the door. ‘Conference room as soon as you can. The one down on level two.’
‘What’s wrong?’
‘We know where the phoenixes are.’
Stef looked to the bathroom door. ‘Coming?’
Curt opened the door, already halfway dressed. ‘Coming.’ He tossed his jacket to her as he stepped into his shoes, and began to button up his shirt as he followed her out of his room.
‘How bad?’ she asked Ryan as they stepped into the waiting lift.
‘We know where they are,’ he said, ‘so that’s something.’
‘What else do we know?’
‘You know as much as I know,’ he said, ‘I’ve just been told myself.’
Curt pulled his jacket from her hands, brushed himself down, and straightened his tie in the mirrored reflection of the lift.
‘Oh, stop being so perfect,’ she said. ‘I’m not even in my uniform.’
The lift opened, and they walked down the empty halls of the second level.
‘It’s an abandoned industrial area,’ Jones said as they walked into the room. ‘been in development hell for over a decade, it’s probably owned by Solstice shell companies, which isn’t important now, but it’ll be something to investigate if we survive the day. This is good for us. No civilians, and a good buffer of undeveloped land surrounding the area, chances of non-catastrophic collateral damage are low. We have one advantage. Where it’s being held is a system area.’
‘What?’ Ryan asked.
‘For whatever reason, it’s one tiny bastion of system area, in the middle of this blackout. We can shift in, but if it fails, we’re going to be stuck.’
‘It’s a risk we have to take,’ Ryan said.
‘Everyone we can get is going in,’ Jones said. ‘All the backup we can pull, all the favours we’re owed, this could be our one chance, so it’s going to be a free-for-all, and there are going to be causalities.’
‘Any means necessary,’ Taylor said. ‘We have no choice.’
‘Everyone Agency will be in uniform-‘ Ryan said, ‘but there’s going to be a lot of people we won’t recognise, but don’t assume they’re friendly, our uniforms are easy enough to duplicate. Consider this martial law and permission to fire on anyone in uniform if they refuse to show ID, and if you have reasonable cause to do so. That’s all the time we have, let’s move.’
One long fade later, they arrived on the edge of the industrial park – it was a sea of warehouses, small buildings and dilapidated demountable offices.
It was a warzone.
Ryan looked at them. ‘Split up, save the phoenix, nothing else matters.’
Something stabbed her in the neck.
'Ow!'
'Sorry,' Jonesy muttered as he waved the mad-scientist sized needle, 'but do you want to be able to require or not?'
Require: cookie!
A cookie appeared.
'It's just recruit level,' he said, 'best we can do this fast.'
She nodded.
Curt grabbed her arm. 'Coming or not, newbie?'
So not ready for this.
* * * * *
One Hour Later
The bullet slammed into her gut, a painful impact that according to tropes and fanciful filmmakers, should have thrown her back against a wall, or at least knocked her over. Tiny as she was, the impact barely rocked her, it was the pain that made her double-over.
This is why you don’t get separated!
Oh shut up, like it’s my fault!,
The scumball Solstice raised his gun again, probably thinking she was nothing but a recruit, probably thinking that she was an easy kill. She swung her gun up and pulled the trigger until he stopped bothering her. A thought refreshed her clip as she pushed herself to her feet and headed for a dumpster. She pushed herself in beside the faded metal, but her lip and waited for the wound to heal.
‘Agency?’ a man’s voice called.
She looked down to her gun, sucked in a short breath. ‘Yeah!’
The dumpster was pulled aside, and she saw two agents standing there. Or two big recruits that could be mistaken for agents – without a HUD it was hard to tell. Curt could tell, he could always tell, but it wasn’t something she’d bothered to pick up on.
‘Mimosa, right?’
She nodded.
‘You alright?’
‘Will be in a minute. I’ve cleared the immediate area-‘
A fist to the face derailed her train of thought.
She swooned, and slammed against the concrete wall as he hit her again.
Solstice?
Yeah, like the Solstice bothered to learn who you were. I think your first instinct was right, I think they’re agents.
She was hit a third time, then the world lurched as she was picked up and thrown over a strong shoulder. The point of his shoulder bumped against her bullet wound and she screamed. Through tear-blurred eyes she saw the other agent – the one who hadn’t said anything – come up behind them.
‘Help me,’ she whispered.
‘Sorry,’ he said, falling into step, and reaching up towards her, a gag in his hand.
She struggled against his grip, and threw herself off the agent’s shoulder. ‘HELP!’
A foot came down on the back of her neck and held her to the ground, the heel grinding into her skin. ‘Shut up, please, make this easy on yourself.’
‘HELP!’
There were no running steps, no shouts to leave her alone, just the echoes of a dozen fights. He gripped the back of her head and the other fastened the gag into place.
She was thrown back up over his shoulder – this time, it didn’t hurt as much, as the wound had been nice enough to seal. ‘Now stay still,’ Agent Dickhead said.
The silent Agent Douche gave her a nod.
A door was opened, and then closed. The room was large, not the open space of one of the warehouses, smaller, a tools room, or a workspace.
What the fsck, what the fsck, what the fsck?!
Agent Dickhead grabbed her by her shirt and slammed her down onto a hard wooden table. She heard something crack, then the weird sensation of bones healing.
Agent Douche grabbed her left hand as Agent Dickhead held her still, large hands pressed down onto her body. She tried to pull it away, but he tied it with a zip tie to a metal spike coming out of the corner of the table, then bound it with rope, then repeated the procedure with her right hand.
She screamed against the gag as Agent Douche looped rope around her middle and fastened her to the table.
‘Hurry up!’ Agent Dickhead snapped. ‘We don’t have all day!’
‘I’m trying.’
Agent Dickhead looked down at her. ‘I’m sorry about this, but…but we’ve got no intention of dying along with the world. If there’s anything that can survive, it’ll be those protected by mirror.’
No. No. No. No.
Her eyes went wide, and she pulled harder against the bonds, feeling the rough rope rubbing her skin raw.
No. No. No. No.
Agent Dickhead grabbed her shirt with two hands and tore it open.
No. No. No. No.
She pulled and screamed as Agent Dickhead pulled a small knife from his pocket.
‘It’s not even my birthday.’
A new voice. A familiar voice.
She swung her head around towards the door, unable to see the man, but she could see the tips of wings. Fairy wings. Blue and gold wings. Carmichael.
‘An agent, all tied up with nowhere to go,’ the fairy said, his voice closer, coming into view as he crossed the room. ‘So nice of you two. I’ll consider it my bonus for a job well done.’
Agent Dickhead actually growled at the fairy. ‘You’re next if you don’t leave.’
There was the sound of a lighter. ‘But there’s only one table, boys, and do you really think you could tie me down if you tried, who do you think my girls practice on?’
‘Leave, fairy,’ Agent Douche said.
‘There’s only enough for two,’ Agent Dickhead said.
‘You don’t even know if there’s enough for two,’ Carmichael said, standing beside the table now, He lifted his cigarette and tapped the ash onto her exposed stomach. ‘And I’m not after the mirror anyway.’
This stopped her from pulling at her restraints.
He knows? How can he know? He-
Carmichael blew smoke at Agent Dickhead. ‘It’s the end of the world, mate, act without consequences, do as you want.’
‘Then what the fuck do you want?’
Carmichael rand a finger across her stomach, drawing shapes in the cigarette ash. ‘You both know who I am, you both know what I like. Take the mirror, I’m not going to fight you for it.’ He leered and she tried to pull away. ‘But can I have her when you’re done? I mean…she’ll still be warm, and it’s not like I’ve got time to find a better piece of ass, and I’d rather go out with my end in something. Even if it’s something dead.’
‘Do whatever you-‘ The sentence was cut off with a gurgle.
Blood dripped onto her face and she stared up at the knife that had appeared in Carmichael’s hand. Agent Dickhead fell on top of her, dead weight, his open throat splashing blood everywhere.
There was a brief scuffle behind the table, and the sound of another body falling to the floor. Agent Dickhead was shoved off her, and Carmichael smiled down at her.
‘Sorry about that, Agent Mimosa, but I needed to get in close in order for that to work.’ He cut the gag away, then worked at freeing her hands. ‘And as soon as they see you as a pervert, you stop seeming dangerous.’
She sat up and immediately pulled the ragged edges of her shirt together. She shuddered for a moment, then required a new one. She stood, and leaned heavily against the table, her legs not quite ready to support her yet.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, tears dripping on to the bloodstained wood. ‘Thank you.’ The bodies were still on the floor. No respawing. Dead. He’d killed them dead. Dead dead. No loss.
‘Thank yourself,’ he said, ‘I heard you screaming for help, wouldn’t have found you otherwise.’
‘How’d you know about the mirror?’
He gave her a smile. ‘I am in intelligence, Agent.’
‘But you-‘
‘You’re safe, and we’re regrouping, shall we?’
‘Huh?’
‘Don’t let go,’ he said as he wrapped a hand around her waist.
She grabbed him on impulse as the room expanded.
It’s not the room, Spyder.
She took a moment to process what she was seeing. The room wasn’t growing bigger, they were shrinking.
‘Oh my god!’
‘I like how you scream,’ he said with a grin. ‘My offer’s still open, by the way. Now, I mean it, don’t let go, and shh if you please, this does take a lot of concentration.’
She shut her mouth, and held on to the fairy’s bloody suit as his wings flapped and took them aloft. It was fast, faster than she had imagined, and far too much like being on a rollercoaster. They zipped through tiny spaces, spun and twirled through bits of debris and open windows before zooming bare inches above concrete roofs, towards a small crowd of suits.
‘Tightly now,’ he said as he gripped her.
The world flexed again, and she felt a weird, ear-popping rush as they resumed their normal sizes.
Ryan walked over to her. ‘it’s over.’
‘What?’
The ground shook, and a jet of fire shot into the air, the opening salvo from a volcano.
She felt herself beginning to cry. ‘Please gods no.’
Ryan held her and she buried her face into his suit. Dad. Safe. Home. He’d make it better. He’d make it better. The world wasn’t going to end. That was just stupid. The world didn’t end. It got screwed up and fscked over and changed, but it didn’t just decide to-
More fire shot into the air.
‘Everyone. Wings.’
She looked up at the crowd on the roof. Taylor, Magnolia, Grigori, Darren, a half dozen more agents she didn’t recognise and a dozen recruits – or the other way around, it was hard to tell without a HUD.
Curt pushed his way through the crowd as agents started to strip off their shirts, or turn to each other to slit holes for wings.
She let go of Ryan, and let Curt hold her. ‘I’m sorry, newbie.’
‘This isn’t happening.’
‘Curt!’ Carmichael’s voice. ‘Catch!’
A package was tossed at Curt, and he pulled it open. He shrugged off his jacket and pulled himself into the harness. Carmichael walked across, slapped him on the shoulder, then pressed the button on the belt, and green wings burst from the harness. ‘Green ones,’ Carmichael said, ‘I remembered.’
Curt embraced the fairy for a moment. ‘Thanks. I never said it. Thanks.’
Carmichael nodded to them both. ‘I’m going to try and make it home, I don’t want my mum to be alone.’
He crossed his arms across his chest, bowed, and shot off into the sky, his wings rocketing him towards an airspeed record.
Nothing to do now, except wait for the end of the world.
She pulled the tiny knife from her pocket, cut a way to her heart and wished for wings.
They didn’t hurt like the agents around her were being hurt. Just the pain of the far-too-often hole in her chest, and the weird squicky, squeaky feeling of bones growing and shifting and bursting through the back of her shirt.
Wings.
Angel wings.
This was supposed to be an awesome moment. It wasn’t.
She took to the air with everyone around her.
‘Everyone.’ Ryan’s voice.
The assembled agents turned to look at him.
‘I’m broadcasting this as well as talking to the agents with me. To anyone who can hear me, it’s over. The phoenix is dying, and we’re out of options. If you can hear me, you’re relieved of your duty. Go to your loved ones, send your recruits home if you can. It’s been an honour.’
The crowd disappeared, leaving them behind. Ryan, Curt, Taylor, Mags, Grigori. The failed last line of defence. They were going to be the first ones to die.
It was so easy to die. It really was so easy to die.
It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair.
So easy just to slip out of the world. It was ok, because everything else was going to go on without her. Agency life could continue without a stupid recruit who hadn’t paid attention to physics. An agent could continue on, and find another recruit to teach and love. A world could continue and not miss a stupid hacker.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.
Dying had never made a difference. Not one bit of difference.
She swallowed the lump in her throat.
It had never made an impact because there was always a world to continue on without her.
She looked to the violent maniacs, Magnolia rested against Taylor, not seeming very scary now. Taylor stood, arms around Mags, his forehead resting against Grigori’s. They’d accepted they were going to die.
Ryan was a statue. It wasn’t /serious, but it was close. He squeezed her shoulder tighter as he noticed her looking up at him, then went back to being quiet.
It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair.
It was the end of the world, there was nothing to say.
She wiped tears away.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.
She let go of her angel for a moment, drifted past Curt, who stood on air, his fake wings flapping and keeping him afloat.
He’d kissed her. He’d told her he loved her.
She flapped her wings and went to him. She squeezed his hand and he held her.
‘May I?’ he asked as he put a crooked finger under her chin.
She nodded, and he kissed her. Longer this time. Three seconds.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t know, newbie. I could- I would have been so good for you.’ He kissed her again, nothing but brief contact this time. ‘And I mean it, I love you, and- I’m scared. You?’
“Sad,’ she said as she crossed her legs and sat on the air, her wings supporting her easily. ‘And a bit scared.. You want lap?’
He let himself drop a little, and she cradled his head as best as she could. Not a bad way to go out. Not a bad way to die.
She stared down, at the rushing waves of fire, at the twisting metal, and the ground that was getting hotter and hotter.
‘The floor is lava,’ she muttered.
Nothing they could do. It was dying. Nothing they could do. It was going to die, and they were going to be the first ones gone.
Jets of fire. Walls of flame. Rolling, roiling clouds of death and destruction. It was brutal. It was hypnotic. She watched it repeat, over and over.
SPYDER!
Oh my fucking god.
It was repeating.
She shook her head, cleared her thoughts and watched with more interest.
There was a pattern. There was a pattern. There was a pattern. There was a pattern.
Her breath caught in her throat.
She watched it through again, Curt gripping her tighter, whispering his love over and over.
She pushed the marshmallow feeling away, the need to just lie with him and be held as everything went away.
She watched the pattern again, then leaned down and kissed his hair. ‘I’ll be back in a minute ok?’
She stretched and flapped her wings.
Having wings was supposed to be awesome. Useful, apparently, was better than awesome.
She drifted closer to Taylor. It took the large agent a moment to even notice she was there. ‘What do you want?’ Annoyed, but not ragey, resigned, not angry.
‘How strong are you?’
‘What?’
She kept the countdown going in her head.
‘How strong are you?’
‘Why is that-‘
‘Could you bring that building down with your bare hands?’
‘It wouldn’t help.’
‘Could you?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then do it. Count to eighty-seven, then bring it down on my head.’
‘What?’
‘Shut up, count, then do it.’
‘You can’t-‘
She flapped her wings and brought herself level with his face. Compared with an apocalypse, he didn’t seem so scary anymore, a photo-finish close second, but still, not as scary as the end of everything ever. ‘Don’t fucking argue with me, just do it.’
He growled.
She turned to Grigori. ‘You help him.’
She looked at Mags. ‘I need you to hold Ryan back.’
‘What the fuck are you doing, Mimosa?’
She gave a shrug. ‘I hope I know.’ She looked to Taylor, who was counting under his breath. ‘You need to time this right.’
He growled again.
She flapped, and flew back to Ryan. She hugged him, and he broke out of his quiet contemplation. ‘Forget requiring and shifting and all that, when you showed me the phoenix moon, that was when I really believed in magic, when I really felt like I’d seen magic. It’s still one of the best moments of my life, even if I was half out of my brain on painkillers and fell asleep halfway through.’
‘You were the first person I’d shown,’ he said, ‘who wasn’t scared.’
‘I was terrified!’
‘Only for a little bit.’
She saw Magnolia drifting closer.
She buried her head in his chest. ‘I love you, dad. Now I need you to do one more thing. Ok, two.’
‘Anything.’
‘Hold Curt back, and forgive me.’
He pushed on her shoulders. ‘What are you-‘
She pulled away from him, and turned to Curt.
She kissed him on the cheek. ‘I love you too.. Be happy, okies?’
‘Newbie-‘
She tucked her wings and dove towards the building.
The countdown continued in her head.
She could hear Ryan and Curt screaming after her, but the screams stayed distant, Ryan holding Curt back, Magnolia holding Ryan back, or just the normal common sense not to dive towards certain death.
Breathe.
She drew in a long breath and dodged a wave of fire.
Three. Two. One.
She folded her wings in front of her face as the wall of fire hit her.
She flew through the fire, her wings burning, her skin bubbling. She hit the floor, and rolled, leaving patches of melting flesh behind.
She knew she was screaming, but she couldn’t hear herself over the roaring fire, the crackling debris, the melting floor.
She slammed a charred hand against her chest, digging through fried flesh and felt her still-cool heart.
HEAL IT!
Everything stopped.
She opened her eyes, whole again, burning again.
She pushed herself to her feet, her skin already black and peeling.
She ran through the fire, seeing the phoenix screaming in the centre of the flames.
She collapsed to the ground again.
She dug towards her heart again. Heal the phoenix! Heal it! Heal it!
Everything stopped again.
She opened her eyes, pushed herself up from the floor, and took another couple of steps toward the phoenix.
The building started to collapse.
She pushed herself forward and fell on top of the dying firebird.
Heal it! Heal it! Heal it!
Everything stopped.
Spyder?
…ooooh fuck not this again.
Breathing. Burning. Dying.
This again.
Breathing. Burning. Dying.
I-
Breathing. Burning. Dying.
This was not one of your better plans.
Breathing. Burning. Dying.
Heal it! Heal it! Heal it!
Breathing. Burning. Dying.
If I am in my heart, I am making a wish! Heal the damn-
Breathing. Burning. Dying.
Spyder-
This has to work!
Please, please, please heal it! Let it live! Burn me up, I don’t care!
Spyder?
Yeah?
We’re still here.
…is that good or-
Breathing. Burning. Dying.
Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain.
THE FUCK WAS THAT?
Breathing. Burning. Dying.
There was no pain last time.
I know!
Please! Please! Please! Heal it!
Breathing. Burning. Dying.
Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain.
How do I make it listen?!
I don’t know.
Breathing. Burning. Dying.
The fact that you’re still respawning means the world is still there.
I’m trying to help you! I’m trying to help you! Make it understand! Please! I’m trying to help you! Please don’t’ end the world! Please don’t end the world!
Breathing. Burning. Dying.
Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain.
Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.
You tried, Spyder.
Breathing. Burning. Dying.
Godsdamit.
Breathing. Burning. Dying.
No one could have-
Breathing.
She felt her body snap to attention as she tried to move. She was trapped. Hot metal touched her on all sides, searing her skin. Cooking her.
‘Fuckfuckfucfuck-‘
Spyder!
Something moved in her arms.
She tried to open her eyes.
‘Come on.’
She opened her eyes, and saw the phoenix settling into her arms. It was warm, like a fat, content cat, and the softest thing she’d ever held.
‘Shh, shh,’ she whispered as she stroked it. ‘It’s okies, it’s okies, I got you.’
It looked up at the sound of her voice, put its beak against her chest and screamed.
Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain.
She recoiled, but stopped herself from pushing the creature away.
She forced herself to look down, and saw it chewing on a piece of mirror.
‘Oh,’ she said weakly, ‘okies.’
It made some softer noises, curled against her and went still.
‘Sleep…what an excellent idea.’
She closed her eyes.
Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain.
‘I could get you pancakes instead,’ she said as the pain subsided. ‘I require really awesome pancakes.’
It squawked at her, then settled into her lap.
The metal cocoon had cooled, it no longer seared skin, but it did an excellent job of keeping the world out.
A world that was still there.
She stroked the phoenix. ‘Thank you for not destroying the world.’
She had an after-impression of safety. Security. Home.
‘I’ll keep you safe,’ she said, ‘I’ll get you home. Do you trust me?’
In response, it curled its wings around itself and she saw the impression of an egg, no more than a trick of light, a fuzzy touch of static, but an egg forming all the same.
It felt safe.
She closed her eyes, and slept.
She opened her eyes.
A fully-formed egg lay in her lap, solid and safe.
She looked around the small metal room.
Ok, um, how do I get out?
Just wish your way out.
She put a hand to her chest, feeling raw skin and blisters, and the hole the phoenix had fed through still there.
She touched her heart. ‘Doorway out, please.’
Some of the metal disappeared and she saw a long, dark hallway. She stood on shaky legs, leaned heavily against the cool wall and limped towards the light.
There was a rush of cool air. Agency air. It smelt like Agency air. The wonderful smell of recycled air, of home, of everything good and right and shiny in the world.
She stepped into the light.
She blinked, a headache immediately descending.
What surrounded her wasn’t the abandoned industrial park, but an Agency. Agency smell. Agency colours. Agency everything.
Agency agents. Ryan. Agency recruits. Curt.
Both of them sprinted across the concrete floor towards her.
She smiled, looked at the floor, and let herself fall.
Curt flexed his hand, and watched as the careful construction fell into ruin. The screen flashed game over, and he started what felt like his thousandth game of Tetris. He looked over the small selection of cartridges in his bag – plumbers, apes and all the rest. All classics, all things he had played before, on a hand-me-down Gameboy that was identical to the required one in his hand, right down to the worn edges and tiny scratches from dropping it to many times.
Prayer was pointless, the gods didn’t listen, Chaos was dead, and none of them could help. Mirror fighting mirror, or mirror saving mirror, whatever the case was, it had been enough, was still enough, the world was safe. The world was still there She’d saved the world, or was still saving the world, whatever was the case – and even the purported experts weren’t sure if they were safe, or if it was just a stay of execution.
He required a cup of coffee, Stef-style and took a few mouthfuls before adjusting it to his normal standards.
Coffee. Games. Prayers into the void. Wishes to bring her back.
He looked across at the pile of congealed metal slag, at a couple of the braver techs taking the next hourly sample.
He wasn’t sure what scrapings of metal would tell them, but they insisted on taking the samples every hour on the hour – or near the hour.
Taylor and Grigori had brought the building down, and several of the surrounding ones. Everything had burned or melted into one huge pile of molten metal. It had boiled for days on end, still shooting out massive jets of fire and roasting waves of heat, even as they built up an emergency outpost around it.
It had been impressive to see – a building materialising out of nowhere – they’d required in cranes and scaffolding, temporary walls and fencing, but bringing in the illusion of construction had taken longer than creating the actual building.
It was large for an outpost as well – not quite the size of their Agency, but not like one of the tiny buildings usually occupied by a single agent and a half dozen recruits, and the design was unlike anything he’d seen.
It was all built around the boiling pile of metal, everything ran in rings around it, rather than the standard straight lines. The centre of the building was hollow, allowing for the massive jets of fire to fire off towards the sky unimpeded – but covered, so that the media didn’t’ catch wind of it. Observation posts had been built into the inner circle, but mostly, up to the sky it had been a solid wall of brick.
After the metal had stopped boiling, stopped shooting off flame, they opened more and more of the inner circle – glass fronted balconies now stared down at him from the dozen levels above his head, and they’d put more and more of the research, observation and tech stuff on the lower levels.
After it had congealed into a solid, cooling mass, they’d opened the lower levels to visitors, and to those wanting to hold a vigil.
And there were a surprising number of visitors.
Thousands of agents came through each day, staying for a minute or an hour. All to see how close they really were to the end of the world, or how close they had come.
‘Curt?’
He looked to the doorway behind his couch, and saw Ryan beckoning him.
He looked to his watch – his ten minute break had stretched into twenty, and he cringed. He turned off the Gameboy, hopped over the couch and walked through the doorway into Ryan’s Queen St office. The doors – the same kind of doors that let every level walk into the infirmary, or allowed recruits the world over to use the singular Agency library, had been installed to make things easier for all involved.
‘Sir?’
‘Carmichael’s brought us another six contractor recruits, can you do their paperwork and organise their orientation?’
‘Another six?’
Ryan nodded. ‘That’s fifty in the last four days, just for us. I know other Agencies are using him, but-‘
He smiled at Ryan. ‘He’s giving us the best, he told me and I believe him, sir. Even the ones that aren’t the best would are good enough, considering the circumstances.’
‘It’s a pleasure to have this many recruits in an Agency.’
He looked back through the open door at the congealed rubble. ‘She’s gonna get a kick out of having this many fae around.’
Ryan handed him the files. He placed them on his desk – a mirror of Ryan’s own, and began to read through the top file, and fill in the corresponding Agency paperwork – most of which were forms that Magnolia had repurposed in a couple of hours to cover the strange circumstances.
Contractor recruits. Not exactly an unheard of thing across the Agency, but so far from the norm that several people – agents and recruits – had through they’d been invented for the crisis.
Recruits on a fixed term, and ones serving closer to regular hours than a normal recruit ever could – morning shift, day shift, afternoon shift, evening shift and overnight shift, and overtime if required. Unlike normal recruits, they were paid, weekly or monthly stipends paid in fairy gold.
For now, they’d managed to keep the fact that they were paid staff a secret from most of the recruits – but the secret wouldn’t hold forever, and they were on a crash course with the HR nightmare of the year.
He looked up after he finished with the last file. ‘Where are they?’
‘They’ll be here this evening, they’ll be doing overnight shift for the first week, so if you could have their rooms ready by then.’
‘No problem, sir.’
Keep working. Don’t stop to think too hard. Hope. Don’t think the worst. The half-assed mantra repeated endlessly in his mind.
She wasn’t dead, the few readers they’d managed to get had said as much. They couldn’t get much, but they could get a read on two distinct entities – one hacker and one phoenix.
Merlin came by every couple of hours to stand at their open door and listen, then he’d nod, babble for a moment, then disappear.
She wasn’t dead, and they had work to do.
There was still another phoenix out there. They had the red one, but the blue one had never been with it. If she’d managed to calm the red one, to actually save the world, then whatever happened with the blue, the outcome was no longer the utter devastation of everything on earth.
With fingers crossed that he red one was no longer a danger, there was hope in the Agency for the first time in weeks. Complete apocalypse off the table, everything else seemed minor. Contingency 32 had been voted down, so the near-end of the human race was still possible, but compared to a week ago, people were positively cheerful.
He required a fresh pen – it took ten seconds to appear – and began to scratch down notes on room arrangements.
The city-wide blackout was still in effect, as was the small system area surrounding the red phoenix and his hacker.
Though means Jones had explained, but that everyone in the room had zoned out to, the techs had managed to make the phoenix’s system area “leak” over into their blackout zone through the infirmary/library door system. It wasn’t perfect, and you still couldn’t require on the first three levels, and no one had been brave enough to try and shift through it, but it was good enough.
The leaked phoenix energy, dump tanks installed in every spare room, and liquid blue running through hoses in Jeffries tubes throughout the Agency had given them something approaching normalcy. Normalcy that tended to fail a half dozen times a day, but normalcy all the same.
‘Curt…’
He looked up. ‘Sir?’
Ryan ran through the door, towards the heap, he pushed himself from his chair and followed the sprinting agent.
There was a tunnel in the side of the heap. A small, dark tunnel. Not something the techs would have done – they were nervous enough taking the small scrapings that they did.
Stef stepped into the light.
She looked up, a huge, dopey smile on her face, then fell forward. A mattress appeared beneath her before she pulled off an epic faceplant, and Ryan slid to his knees beside her. The agent turned her over, his shaking her gently and checking her pulse before he even got there.
She looked like hell.
He knelt on the other side of her, and grabbed her hand.
Stef was pale. Her normal state of being was pale, fearing the sun and instead choosing the bask in the comforting glow of whatever computer she was closest to. This however…her skin – what wasn’t burnt, sooty or missing, was positively translucent. Printer paper would think she was pale. Vampires would covet her complexion. She was also naked, save for the soot. She was gaunt and wasted, limbs thin and weak, her ribs making her a candidate to be used as a human xylophone.
The phoenix egg in her arms though, was strong and vibrant, its shell a swirl of red and orange and gold.
She’d done it.
‘Lift her up,’ the Parkers said in unison as they brought in a gurney.
‘Can’t we shift her?’ he asked the doctors.
‘No,’ the taller Parker said, ‘don’t want to chance pissing off that little firebird.’
He looked across at Ryan. ‘What do we do with the egg?’
Ryan stared for a moment. ‘Let her hold on to it, it seems safest.’
They carefully lifted her onto the gurney, and the Parkers wheeled her over to the service elevator on the far side of the rubble.
Her eyes were opening by the time they stepped out onto the floor of the new outpost’s infirmary.
‘Newbie?’
‘Thirsty.’
Ryan put a hand behind her neck and helped her sit up a little, then placed a straw to her lips.
Fourteen glasses of water later, she finally lay back on the gurney and let the Parkers start to tend to her wounds.
‘Stef?’ Ryan said.
She looked up at him. ‘You wanna hold it?’ she said as she offered the egg to him. ‘It’s warm like a kitty!’ Her head dropped back, and she snored loudly for a minute, then woke up again. ‘Thirsty.’
Another eight glasses, and she tried to sit up.
She pushed the egg at Ryan. ‘It’s safe. It’s asleep. It’s safe.’
‘Keep still,’ the Parkers ordered in unison.
She was still doing that thing where she wasn’t focussing.
‘Newbie?’
She lifted her right hand and it drifted towards her chest. ‘How much did I lose?’
Parker grabbed a small scanner – the same type he had used on her in that cheap motel room weeks ago, and ran it over her back. Stef winced, tears leaking from tired eyes.
He held her hand tighter.
The taller of the Parkers made some stock doctory noises, then fiddled with the tablet computer for a moment. ‘Fuck me.’
‘Later, darling,’ his twin replied.
‘Just under half of what was recorded last.’
‘Oh, fuck me,’ she whispered.
‘No, no vigorous activity for you,’ the short of the Parkers said. ‘Your boyfriend is going to have to wait before he gives you victory sex.’
‘My what?’
The taller Parker grabbed him, lifted him and waved him in front of Stef. ‘This guy?’
‘Ohai,’ she said, another big, vacant grin on her face.
She collapsed back and started to snore again.
‘Ok,’ the shorter Parker said, ‘I’m making sure she’s out this time. She needs sleep, she needs fluid, she needs food-‘ He looked at his twin for a moment. ‘I mean, we could just dump tank her if you like and let Jonesy deal with the fallout, but she’s not in any actual pain at the moment, so it’s our recommendation that you let us look after her.’
‘All right,’ Ryan said. ‘Let us know when she’s ready for visitors.’
* * * * *
There was a light shining in her eye.
‘Nuuuuurg,’ Stef said.
‘Are you thirsty?’
Parker’s voice. The nice one, probably.
‘Mmmmmm.’
‘Is that a yes?’
She tried to enunciate something that sounded positive.
‘And we’re sitting up,’ he said as the bed moved.
Spinny, everything was spinny.
‘Immafallover.’
‘That would be quite a trick,’ he said, ‘here.’
A plastic straw touched her lips.
‘Given how dehydrated you are, I required that glass to keep refilling itself once it reaches a quarter empty, drink as much as you want.’
She slowly opened her eyes. ‘Magic glass?’
‘How’s the pain?’
‘What pain?’
‘Very good’.’
She sucked on the straw. Water good. Water very good. Water the best thing ever.
‘You ready for a couple of visitors?’
She gave a little nod, and the Parker smiled at her. ‘Ok, I’ll give you five minutes to wake up, then I’ll call them in, all right?’
‘Require cookie?’
‘I think you can take your pick without a requirement.’
‘Eh?’
He stepped aside and a wall of colour hit her. Flowers and balloons and gift baskets covered every spare inch and more – some stacked several deep.
‘I’m not gonna steal from someone’s goody basket.’
‘Mimsy, while I am capable of stealing from myself, I’m not sure it’s a feat you can manage.’
‘Eh?’
I’m deducting smart points from you.
‘…all this is for me?’
‘No,’ Parker said.
See, told you.
‘This is just what we could fit in here.’
She sat up a little more. ‘What?’
‘And we’ve had to task half a dozen recruits just to sign for stuff from the couriers.’
‘What?’
‘I’ll get you some visitors, you can deal with your loot later.’
‘…ok.’
He lifted the closest gift basket and placed it on the bed beside her. ‘This one has cookies in it.’
He left the room, and she stared at the wall of gifts.
Gifts. For her. Flowers. For her. Get well cards. Muffins. Cookies. Bows. Ribbon. Balloons.
She wiped tears away with bandaged hands.
Get ripped apart by a car and be lucky enough to survive earned no presents, no flowers, and definitely no balloons with smiley faces. Pull off a suicidally stupid plan to save the world, and apparently it earned enough of a haul to stock several small gift stores.
She ripped into the gift basket and pulled out a handful of tiny cookies, each no more than a mouthful each, and chewed on them until she heard a knock.
Ryan and Curt stood there, and she felt herself start to cry. ‘Hey,’ she said as they dodged gift baskets and came across the room, Curt taking the right side of the bed, Ryan taking the left. Ryan held a large wooden box in his hands, which he placed up onto the bed.
‘Is there chocolate in there?’
He shook his head, ‘It just came by courier, and I thought this would be something you’d want to see.’
‘But it’s not chocolate?’
‘You should open it, Stef.’
She gave him a wary look, but her smiled and gave her a nod. ‘Trust me, Stef.’
She leaned forward, spun the small gold key and lifted the lid of the ornate wooden box. She peeked inside, then laughed.
‘Ok, fine, brilliant.’ She looked across to Curt. ‘You sent it round trip via courier?’
‘Take a closer look, newbie.’
She reached into the box to grab the plastic crown he’d bought her from the Nonsuch gift shop.
A plastic crown that felt like metal.
She swallowed, and weighed the suddenly very real crown in her hands.
‘Ok, um, what?’
Ryan took it from her hands and placed it on her head. ‘There’s an accompanying letter, and a whole lot more for you to read through, but I know the short version, I’ve seen this happen before, but never to-‘ He looked away, his voice thick with emotion. ‘Never to one of my agents. I’m proud of you, Stef, I’m so proud of you, and it’s not just me recognising it this time.’
‘For the love of god, tell me I’m not an honorary princess or something.’
‘Not quite,’ he said as he smoothed out her hair. ‘You don’t get to keep the crown, not forever. It’s the fairy’s way of extending their gratitude, appreciation and recognising contributions. When something big happens – it can be saving the world, or as a lifetime achievement – like a knighthood, or as recognition of an achievement, they send this crown, or its twin, and plan a gala. There, you’ll give it back, and instead receive something in return, something of your choosing, that’s your reward, not the crown.’
‘…you just said gala, right?’
‘I did.’
‘A fucking gala?’
‘Well, the fairies are hosting it,’ Curt said, ‘you should probably request they cancel your whores.’
‘Ugh,’ she said as she dipped her head forward and took the crown off. ‘But seriously?’
‘Stef, you saved the world.’
‘I didn’t mean to!’
‘You saved the world,’ he said again. He wiped tears away. He was crying. Big strong mister-magic-MiB-man-was crying. Because of something she’d done. ‘You saved the whole world, I can’t even begin to tell you how proud I am of you, what you’ve done, do- Do you realise what you’ve done?’
‘I’m sorry?’
Ryan stood, and leaned over and gently hugged her before taking his seat again.
‘Do you know how long you were in there?’
‘Is it bigger than a breadbox?’
He gave her a patient smile. ‘How many days fit in a breadbox?’
‘I don’t know, I never had a breadbox.’
‘How long do you think-’
‘Just tell me, dad.’
‘Nine days.’
‘You’re shitting me.’
‘I’m not.’
‘By the time I reach my next birthday, I’m going have spent like six months asleep, I’ll be twenty-three, but with like only twenty-two and a half years of experience.’
Ryan gave her a strange look, then gave a little cough.
‘What?’
‘Newbie?’
She turned to look at Curt. ‘Yeah?’
‘How old are you, newbie?’
‘Twenty-two.’
‘Newbie?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Think about it.’
‘...I am?’
‘When’s your birthday?’
‘October thirteenth.’
‘How old did you turn on your last birthday?’
‘Twenty-two.’
‘How long ago was your last birthday?’
She stared at him. ‘...I, what?’
‘You’re twenty-three, Stef,’ Ryan said. ‘You were- The mirror? You were-’
‘Dead in my apartment. Shit. I’m twenty-three?’
‘You seriously didn’t know?’ Curt asked.
She looked to the crown in her hands, and turned it over and over, her face distorting in the shiny gold surface. ‘My birthday’s never been important. It was an excuse for mother to pretend I was someone I wasn’t and invite over a dozen kids I didn’t get along with, then it was just random gifts picked out by assistants totalling a certain dollar value, and send by courier, and then, nothing at all. I liked the nothing at all part. It meant no one expected anything of me. And I’m not so terminally sad and pathetic as to throw myself a party.’ She shrugged. ‘Ding twenty-three.’
‘We will do something about that this year,’ Ryan said. ‘I promise.’
‘You don’t have to-’
‘We want to,’ Ryan said. ‘For the moment though, the phoenix, is it stable?’
She nodded. ‘So long as no one is stupid enough to try and hurt it, it’ll stay in its shell.’ She looked down at the bed for a moment. ‘And it’s might peek out for food.’
‘What’s it eating?’
She bit her bottom lip and rubbed a hand over her heart. ‘Me?’
Ryan shook his head. ‘No. We’ll find another-’
‘If it wants to eat me, it can eat me, if we find other mirror, fine, but I didn’t do all this just to be precious with my life. I’ve still got more than enough mirror. It doesn’t eat that much anyway.’
‘I’m not going to argue with you now,’ Ryan said.
‘But you will later?’
‘Of course I will, I’m your father, I know what’s best for you.’ He stood. ‘For now, I think that’s to leave you two alone,’ Ryan said as he stood. He touched a hand to her face. ‘I’ll see you later,’ he said, and quietly left the room.
She nommed on another handful of the tiny cookies, then looked to the boy beside her bed. ‘…Ryan doesn’t get mad at me when I do stuff like this, he knows me too well, and if I hadn’t done something stupid we wouldn’t be here. Him, I don’t have to worry about.’
‘You’re worried about me?’
‘You kissed me and an hour later I dive bomb a phoenix, wasn’t sure if you’d take that as a bad omen. Wasn’t sure if it meant that you wouldn’t want-‘
He stood and leaned in close. ‘I’m gonna kiss you now, newbie.’
‘…okies.’
He kissed her, and she pulled him up onto the bed beside her.
He shook his head as he let his fingers play with her hair. ‘You’re an idiot to think that I would stop wanting you for being yourself, you’re especially an idiot if you think I’d stop wanting you after you save the whole damn world. There’s a pile of proposals as long as my arm in one of your gift rooms, half of them came with rings, if not entire bridal sets. Hell, I’d be surprised if you didn’t trade up to a-’
‘Oh shut up.’
‘Yes, newbie.’
‘I knew it was a risk. I knew that. I could- I could have spent however long we had left cuddled up to you, letting you has lap as the world burned. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I knew I had a chance of fixing it so I had to take it. I had to. Even if I’d burned away, you could have found someone else, and Ryan could have adopted you as his new kid, yay, world saved, and everything is good. The world can go fuck itself, so far as I’m concerned, but it can’t go fuck itself unless it’s there. And I wanted it to be there. It-‘
‘I know what you mean.’
‘…so do you still want to be my boyfriend?’
‘If you’ll have me.’
‘I do.’
He grinned. ‘Seriously, you should check out some of those proposals though, one of them has a rock the size of your head, and you have a really big head.’
‘Oi!’
He traced her face with his fingers. ‘I like it though. More places to kiss.’ He looked at her, and she gave him a nod. ‘I can kiss you’re here..’ He kissed her mouth. ‘Or here.’ Her cheek. ‘Here.’ Her other cheek. ‘Down here.’ Under her chin. ‘All along here.’ A dozen tiny kisses around the curve of her jawline. Her temples. Her forehead. The corners of her mouth. Her closed eyes. He rested a finger against her lips. ‘It’s a good head.’
‘Would you hate me if I wanted to go to sleep?’
‘Would you let me hold you?’
She nodded. ‘Yeah. Please.’
He lifted the blanket and settled in next to her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest. Her toes turned to marshmallow, and stayed gooey, the feeling slowly expanded, making her gooey, making her relax into his arms.
It was nice. So nice. More than she deserved. What a real girl deserved, not what she-
He kissed her head, his fingers twisting in her hair, and she stopped arguing with the marshmallow feeling.
‘Before-’ she started. ‘Before all this, when you kissed me, I saw something-’
He went stiff, and made the same little choking-scream noise. ‘It was an accident!’
‘Your tattoo. I mean. The lack of your tattoo.’
‘I got rid of it.’ He looked a little scared. ‘Do you mind?’
She shook her head. ‘Means you like you a little bit. And that’s good.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ he said, ‘but you like me, so I’ll lean on that a bit.’
She smiled up at him. ‘That works too.’ She put her head back against his chest. ‘Thank you.’
‘For what, newbie?’
‘You’re- You’re- For not pushing me. I mean Parker mentioned- And- You didn’t even-’ She closed her eyes. ‘I’m this close to you. With you. And I’m not scared. I love you.’ She pulled back a little and shrugged. ‘I didn’t mean it when I said it the first time. Just before I- I didn’t mean it. I wanted to say it cause you deserved to hear it. But I- We’d had an hour and I was still in how-the-fuck-do-you-even-like-me mode. Loved you. Wasn’t in love with you.’
‘And you’ve had time to reconsider that?’
‘I’m willing to make a leap of faith.’
He swallowed. ‘Full disclosure, that’s the best thing anyone’s ever said to me.’
She smiled, yawned and turned over to let him spoon her. ‘Tell me this is real.’
He moved into position. The big spoon. A feeling she was going to get used to very, very quickly.
He kissed the back of her neck, and she shivered at the ticklish sensation. ‘It’s real. Go to sleep, newbie.’
She pulled his arm tight across her chest, a safe cocoon of boy, breathed in the safe smell of Agency air, and let herself sleep.
Stef opened her eyes.
Dawn light streamed through the infirmary blinds. She slipped out of the bed, pulling the blanket back up over Curt, who moved in his sleep, but didn’t wake.
First night with a boy who wanted her, survived. No different to being there for cuddles-only purposes, but so different at the same time. So different to not have to pretend it was real. So different to be wanted for her. So different to be wanted.
She grabbed one of the smaller baskets of muffins, hung it on her left arm and, walked out of the private room and out of the empty infirmary.
It wasn’t home. It was an Agency, but it wasn’t home. She walked down a curving corridor, past rooms upon rooms filled with flowers and gifts. All too much, way too much. It had been practically an accident. Something she’d had to do. She was an agent, she’d done her duty, and that was all. Agents weren’t there to be noticed, weren’t there to be thanked, they were just there to do their duty and slip away unnoticed.
She came to a junction, and looked to her right, and saw four other hallways, each a smaller concentric circle, and then a glass wall.
She walked towards the glass wall, leaned against it and stared down at the remains of the prison that had held her and the phoenix for days.
‘Stef.’
She turned and saw Ryan. He walked up, and hugged her tightly. ‘I thought you would have slept through today.’
‘You wouldn’t have let me.’
‘Are you all right?’
She shook her head. ‘Nope. Not even a little bit.’ He required a couch and they sat. ‘Nine days, really?’
‘As fast as the Agency is, we couldn’t have done this in an hour.’
‘What- What is this anyway?’
‘This is our newest outpost. Who is going to staff it and how the jurisdictions are going to be rearranged no one knows, but it’s ours, and it’s still the only piece of system territory within the city limits.’
She leaned across and poked him. ‘Require coffee.’
A small table appeared in front of them, covered with coffee and a spread of breakfast foods.
She gulped down a coffee, then nommed slowly on a plate of eggs benedict. ‘These taste just like you made IRL.’
‘Well, it’s my recipe either way,’ he said.
She leaned forward and snagged a couple of buttered pancakes, settled herself against the arm of the couch, balanced the plate on her lap, and nodded to him. ‘Okies, catch me up on everything I missed.’
He nursed a tall glass of iced tea. ‘Where do you want me to start?’
‘How many casualties?’
‘Every Solstice in the area, for starters.’
‘How many real people?’
‘Ninety agents and double that in recruits. Brian and Lisa, from our department, a half dozen from combat, I don’t’ think you would have known any of the rest though, I can get you the lists if you want.’
‘Later, maybe. What else?’
‘Contingency 32 got voted down, so if the blue phoenix is killed then we’re still looking at an extinction level event for the human race. Other than the blackout though, we’ve got no signs from that phoenix. We’ve got decent reasons to believe that Blue Earth have it, but we have no idea where they’re holding it, other than it’s still somewhere in our city limits.’
‘But that still means at least us and the fae survive, which is better than everyone dying.’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘What else?’
‘Carmichael’s been finding recruits for us, to bolster our numbers and assist in the search for the blue phoenix, so our Agency is full of fae.’
‘Ooooh.’
He smiled. ‘And there’s been a development while you were asleep.’
‘Oh?’
‘I tried something,’ Ryan said. ‘I took the egg back to our Agency.’
‘Did it enjoy the ride?’
‘It burnt through the blackout zone, our Agency’s fully operational again.’
‘Cool.’
‘If you’re willing to take a drive, we could get a lot of the city back up and running.’
‘…only if you awesome clothes onto me again, I’m not driving around in scrubs, that would just be embarrassing.’
He snapped his fingers, and her uniform replaced the pale blue scrubs. ‘This way.’
She followed him to a lift, down to the bottom level of the newborn Agency, and through a magic door to his office. The egg sat on a trolley, in a padded box, content and still whole.
‘Shall we?’ he asked.
She gave him a nod and followed him through his office and down the parking garage. His green Bentley appeared and he secured the phoenix in the back seat.
‘Should we bring Curt?’
‘Let him sleep,’ Ryan said. ‘He hasn’t slept well over the past week.’
‘When did he tell you?’
‘I told him.’
‘Huh?’
The car doors popped open, and she climbed in, less afraid of damaging the car this time, but still wary of the classy interior. ‘I just gave him a little push to make him realise something he already felt.’ He started the car. ‘I apologise if-‘
‘No,’ she said, ‘don’t apologise. But- But aren’t you supposed to keep the boys away? Isn’t that in the dad code?’
‘I trust you to make your own decisions.’
‘Why would you do something like that? Half of my decisions put me in mortal danger!’
‘And the other half don’t,’ he said as they drove out of the garage. ‘You are far more capable than you give yourself credit for.’
‘Sure, in a few highly specialised areas, most of which aren’t applicable to real life for any great gain.’
‘Do I have to point out you saved the world?’
She brought her knees up to her chest. ‘Please don’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I can’t even begin to comprehend it. I just can’t. As big as my head it, it’s not big enough to hold an idea that large. Everything can’t be here because of me, that’s just stupid.’ She looked out the window of the car. ‘Buildings and cars and people and trees and- Ooh, doughnuts.’
‘Later, you just had breakfast.’.
‘What I did was so- I just did it. I didn’t want you to be dead. I didn’t want everything you’d ever done to be all for nothing. Who’s gonna rescue little lost hackers if you’re not around? I didn’t save the world. I saved you. I saved Curt. I saved Jonesy and the techs and Buttercup and Magic Mike and Patty and just the stuff I care about. That’s what I did it for.’
‘It doesn’t matter why you did it, you still did it. The only reason anyone is alive right now is because of you.’
‘But I don’t want this to be the thing that defines me.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because! Because it’s not me. It’s nothing like I’ve ever done. It’s got nothing to do with who I am or-‘ She buried her face in her knees. ‘I’m not good enough to have saved the world.’
The car stopped.
‘I never want you to say that again.’
She bit her tongue, the pain helping her clamp down on her emotions. ‘Ok.’ Fine. Whatever. I’ll play the part, I’ll-
‘Look at me, Stef.’
Traitorous tears flowed. ‘I can’t.’
‘Look at me.’
‘No.’
‘Look at me.’
She pulled her face away from her knees and looked to him. ‘What?! What the fuck can you say that will make this ok?’
She released her seatbelt, pushed on the car door and ran into a wall made of agent.
‘Stef-‘
‘Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!’ She pushed past him and ran across the park, her legs screaming from the effort, sweat already streaming down her face. No agenty bonus, just the stupid human frailties born of exercising a brain and not a weak body. She jumped into an empty sandpit and drew a line with her sneaker. ‘Don’t’ cross it!’ She dragged her foot around, making a rough circle in the sand. ‘Land of Steforia, population one.’
She sat in the circle, burying her hands in the cold sand.
He sat across from her, outside of the circle.
‘You’re gonna get your suit dirty.’
‘I rather enjoy playing in the sand,’ he said, ‘though I rarely get the opportunity. We had a sandpit for Alexander, and we went to the beach as often as we could.’ He lifted a handful of sand and let it drain through his fingers. ‘I like the texture. Grains, taken by themselves are rough, but together, they’re smooth and soft. Feels like a metaphor for something, but I don’t know what, and it’s one of those wonderful contradictions. And there’s so much history in every handful.’ He drained another pile. ‘How much of the world have these grains seen? Where did they start? Where will they end up? Some of the fae that are more in tune with nature have tried to divine things about the soil and the sand, and some of them can see a little of its history, but even then, it’s only a glimpse.’
‘You’re still getting your suit dirty.’
‘So are you.’
‘Yeah, but I’m supposed to be the dirty one.’
‘You’re supposed to be whatever you want.’
‘No. Never. I’ve never been what I want. I’ve only ever been what other people want – or as close to it as I can – or whatever circumstances thrust on me, never what I want. I didn’t want to be a ballerina, I had to be a ballerina. I didn’t want to be a pretty little girl in dresses, I was a pretty little girl in dresses. I didn’t want to be a scarred freak, I’m a scarred freak. I didn’t want to be a crazy person. I didn’t want to be a tiny little drunk. I didn’t want to be alone. I didn’t want to have such much expected of me. I didn’t want people to rely on me. I was just starting to figure out that I was safe enough to figure out who I was, who I really was, then this happens. Now I have to be the saviour of the world and live up to that. It’s gonna be all about the image again and I’m going to have to stoop and bow and genuflect and say all the right things in all the right places. Just like when mother loved Stephanie during ballet. I’m gonna be swallowed up by this fake expression of someone I’m not.’
‘Stef-‘
‘That crown thing I got. That’s major brownie points with the fairies. Wait. Turn of phrase. Is that racist. I don’t care. I wasn’t talking about those brownies. Are there brownies? I haven’t seen one. It’s major points anyway. What am I going to be expected to ask for?’
This seemed to confuse him. ‘What?’
She looked up, looked at his face for a moment, then looked down to the hand and worked on deepening the borders of Steforia. Deep enough for a moat. Moats were excellent borders. ‘This is a major win for the Agency,’ she said, ‘so basically we’d have to be working for an organisation of incompetents if no one whispered in my ear and told me what to ask for. I dunno how much I can ask for, but what if we could get citizenship for every Agency employee, or convince them to expand the Marches, or make liaising with their police easier? It’s ok. The Agency earned this. But if I say the wrong thing-‘
‘The Agency didn’t earn it, you did.’
‘And I’m an Agency resource,’ she said, ‘I am an extension of our uniform.’
‘You are’ he said, ‘so am I, so is every other agent and every other recruit, but not to the point where it swallows individual achievement. You earned this, and they don’t have the right to-‘
‘Of course they do, and I don’t even mind.’ She shrugged. ‘What would I even wish for anyway? I told you, wishes are stupid little frippy things. I mean, look at what’s in my chest, and I haven’t made one wish for myself. I don’t even know what I would wish for. I don’t mind giving up the prize, but I just hate the idea of being the perfect little puppet. But then again, that’s easier. It’s easier to have your role defined than to figure it out for yourself. I mean, for someone like me anyway.’ She shrugged. ‘You’ve probably got no idea what I’m even talking about.’
‘You know who you are.’
‘Fsck off, I do not.’
‘You are the child I rescued. You are the neglected child of an otherwise happy couple. You are one of the Lost, one of the Found. You are a ballerina. You are the owner of a well-loved pony. You are never at a loss for a good conversation, or a vocal second opinion. You are a hacker. You are a geek. You are my recruit. You are my daughter. You are Curt’s love. You are a bridge into the tech department. You are the girl who just saved the world.’
‘That’s just-‘
‘Let me finish.’
‘That’s just a jumble of-‘
‘You are who everyone is, Stef. You are the roles you fulfil for others, you are the qualities you invest in, and you are every single reaction to every moment of your life. There is no one point at which you truly know who you are because every change in your life changes who you are, changes how you perceive something, or how you feel about something. Everyone’s life is just a jumble of experience and love and turmoil. Everyone, Stef, not just you. Knowing yourself is just knowing enough to understand that.’
She pushed on the pile of stand in front of her and filled in the moat.
‘Can I assume that means the borders of Steforia have opened?’
‘Tourists bearing hugs are welcome.’
He knelt, wrapped his arms around her and picked her up and held her in a safe, warm, angel hug for what seemed like forever.
‘Let’s take a walk,’ he said. He grabbed her vest and the world blurred a little as he shifted her up onto his shoulders.
She leaned forward, resting her chin on the top of his head. ‘I know what you’re trying to do,’ she said, ‘but that doesn’t change the fact that, jumble or not, a big part of who I am is someone who has spent the majority of their life feeling- No, not feeling. Scratch that. Knowing. Knowing they were worthless. It’s hard for me to reconcile that- He killed me.’ Tears dripped into his hair. ‘He killed me.’
‘That doesn’t make you worthless.’
‘But-‘
‘Any Solstice brave enough to stand their ground against an agent would call you a monster, and a hundred worse names, would you believe them?’
‘No, Duh.’
‘Then why believe any other single person’s opinion about you?’
‘But by that logic, I can’t believe anything you say about me, either.’
‘No, I’m exempt.’
‘Why?’
He squeezed her hands. ‘Because I’m your father, and I’m always right.’
‘You keeping saying that.’
‘That’s because it’s true.’
‘You- You really aren’t gonna get rid of me, are you?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I dunno.’
He lifted her from his shoulders and placed her gently on the ground. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think you’re going to push me into that pond if I don’t give you the right answer.’
He smiled. ‘That’s an excellent suggestion.’
She wrapped her arms around him and cried.
He let her cry for a few moments, then knelt in front of her. ‘I am not going to get rid of you, all right?’
‘Okies.’
He handed her a cookie, and a small net – the kind of moving fish from one tank to another. ‘Is the cookie going to fly away?’
He knelt beside the dirty pond and patted the grass beside him. ‘No.’ He required himself a net, and pointed to the water. ‘What do you see?’
‘I don’t have my HUD.’
‘You don’t need a HUD for this. What do you see?’
She shrugged, only seeing the obvious stuff. ‘Water. Weeds. Scum. Those little larvae things. Stuff?’
‘Look at the water.’
‘It’s water.’
‘Do you see the diamonds?’
She stared at the sunlight sparkling off the surface. ‘That’s not diamonds.’
He dipped his net into the water, and skimmed it across the surface, ‘Hold out your hand.’ She did. He upended the net, and hard, wet lumps fell onto her open palm. Diamonds, shiny and dazzling, despite their murky colours rested there. He repeated the process again, and a third time, her cupped hands filling with diamonds the colour of the pond water.
‘Tessa’s diamonds. Fool’s jewels. Sparks,’ he said, pulling a few from her pile and tossing them back into the pond. ‘I knew you were having trouble with what you’d done, so I wanted to show you this. Some little bit of fantastic, utterly nonsensical magic that serves no purpose other than to put a little wonder into the world.’
She pulled out her shirt bottom and piled the diamonds there, then lifted a small one from the top. ‘I don’t understand. How…how do people not know about this?’
‘How many people look at the water and see diamonds?’
‘Someone would have done it by accident!’
‘It only works in certain locations at certain times, and you’ve got the have a special kind of net – it’s able to be required though, as you can see. They’re a type of microscopic creature, each diamond is a whole colony of them.’ He lifted one from her pile and blew on it, and it turned back into water and ran through his fingers. ‘Do you want to take some home?’
‘Can’t I take all of these?’
‘It’s just like going to the beach, if you take all the shells, there’ll be no one left for the other children. Pick out a few, and throw the rest back.’ He held out a little plastic bag, and she began to judge the diamonds in her lap, throwing most of them back. After a few moments, the bag had half a dozen diamonds – five small ones and a lumpy one that was like was like four stuck together – and the rest had been thrown back into the pond for future visitors to find.
He stood and offered a hand down to her. ‘We’ve got work to do, I want to clear at least a few of the major roads and make paths to the outposts, that way, we’ll have a functioning local network again. And Curt’s waiting at the car.’
She smiled, then blushed.
He took her hand and they headed back across the park. ‘Are you happy?’
‘That I has a boyfriend?’
‘Yes.’
‘Still in shock, really. But yeah, happy. I think I can be happy.’
‘We’ve cleared the major roads,’ Ryan said as they stood in the outpost lobby, the phoenix egg sitting contentedly on a trolley.
Stef stared at it, then lifted a hand to place on it as Ryan continued to do all of the official talk with Agent Sale. It was the same things they’d talked about at the last four outposts – naming the roads they’d cleared, asking what areas needed to be done in order for the outpost to resume something approaching normal function.
The end of the world had been avoided, continued emergency situation or not, the everyday work needed to be done. The everyday was good. It kept the focus off her, off what she’d done and away from the fact that there was going to be a gala in her name. Compared to that, the everyday was a miracle.
She lifted both of her hands onto the egg, feeling the tiny pulse of the phoenix’s heartbeat through the hard shell.
Magic princesses could talk to animals, especially the super-special-snowflake animals, dirty-shoed hackers got nothing but afterimages of emotion and thought, and only when rocketing themselves through the wall, or repeatedly burning and respawning. Other than the heartbeat, she got nothing from the egg. Also a miracle, it meant that – rooms of presents or not – she was still her, still plain, ordinary Stef. Compared to the alternatives, that was also a miracle. Alternatives like being dead. Or too mad to function. Or locked away in some lost corner of her heart far from where anyone would ever find it.
It was going to get hungry. It was going to need to eat. She was going to have to unzip her chest and let it eat her heart. It was-
‘Newbie, got a sec?’
‘Ya,’ she said as she followed him over to the reception-area couch by the window.
They sat, and he sat across from her, his all-too-casual look on his face. She tried to mimic the expression. ‘What’s up?’
‘Casual as you can,’ he said as he started to play with his Genie phone, further settling into the at-ease act, ‘look across the street and tell me if you think the guy in the jacket is watching.’
She pulled her legs under her, sitting cross-legged, and stared at a mirrored vase holding a fake plant, and looked into the twisted view of across the street, getting a fix on the only solitary figured before turning her head to look. Even with a two-second glance, it was obvious that the man was watching the outpost.
‘Brown jacket?’ Agent Sale asked as he walked over.
‘Yes,’ Curt said.
Sale waved at the man, who tapped a salute, then walked away.
‘If my director wasn’t here,’ Sale said as Ryan joined them, ‘I’d tell you that he’s a Fallen, but one who sauntered downwards for his own reasons, rather than to work against the Agency. He’s been keeping an eye on us since the blackout fell. Useful too, he’s managed to deter a few opportunistic fae.’
‘Carlson?’ Ryan asked.
‘Yeah,’ Sale said. ‘I mean, for reasons manifest, I never met the guy, but he’s always seemed like a good bloke, and I haven’t argued with the help.’
‘Good thing your director isn’t here,’ Ryan said with a slight smile, ‘otherwise there’d probably be a chase, a fight, and an execution before altogether too much paperwork.’
Agent Sale clapped him on the back. ‘Where are you going next?’
‘We’re done for the day,’ Ryan said, ‘we’ll put together another map tomorrow for clearing more areas.’
‘You can has shotgun,’ she said to Curt as they walked down the stairs to the small parking garage. Ryan dismissed the couple of recruits that had been assigned to watch the car in case of a random attempt on the phoenix.
‘But-‘ Curt started to argue as she crawled into the back seat.
She laid across the back seat and rested her head against the egg crate. ‘It’s easier to sleep back here.’
She closed her eyes as the car started, the phoenix’s tiny heartbeat pulsing under her hand as she rested her hand on the egg.
‘Stef?’
‘Hm.’
‘Stef?’
‘Hm!’
Someone was shaking her shoulder ‘Come on, young lady.’
‘I like it when you call me that,’ she said as she sat up.
Ryan sighed, smiled, and handed her a coffee. ‘Jones wants to see you.’
‘We’re home already?’
‘We’ve been home for twenty minutes. I’ve been trying to wake you for that long.’
She drained half of the coffee in one go. ‘This is human me, remember?’ she said, ‘I’m not so good with the staying awake at regular hours thing.’
‘Well, Jones is about to fix that.’
‘I get reagented?’
He nodded. ‘There were a few minor pieces of paperwork to do, that’s why we didn’t do it this morning.’
‘Can you shift me up?’
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Finish your coffee.’
She lifted the mug, tilted her head back and drained the mug. ‘Done!’
Ryan took the coffee, ruffled her hair, and the world blurred.
‘One reagentification please!’ she said as the world became clear again.
Jones spun on his chair, his fingers steepled like the mad scientist he was. ‘We have two choices,’ the tech said. ‘Either we can toss you in a dump tank’s worth of blue and build you up from there, or we can do a gradual process. The tank’s quicker, but it’s also more painful.’
A tank appeared, and she felt her stomach tie itself into knots. ‘How much quicker is the quick way?’
‘So much faster that you don’t really have a choice,’ Jonesy said. ‘Come on, into the tank.’
‘Do I need to strip down?’
Jones shook his head as she walked up the step ladder and stepped into the tank.
‘This isn’t too bad,’ she said as she submerged herself into the blue, the liquid soaking through her clothes to coat her skin with the liquid agenty goodness.
‘It starts to get bad now,’ Jonesy said, as a lid appeared and the tank began to fill rapidly.
She kicked and fought to stay on the surface, sucking in deep breaths as the air in the tank disappeared.
‘Ok. This sucks. This is sucking now! This is-!’
The last pocket of air disappeared. She held her breath for as long as she could, then took in a lungful of blue. It hurt and she convulsed against the liquid in her lungs. A shock went through the tank – or through her, she couldn’t tell, and the world turned white with pain. Her body shook, fingers twitching and extending, her legs moved at unnatural angles, and every muscle seemed to pulse.
Her vision turned blue and she let herself sink into it.
Someone was tapping out the Fibonacci sequence on her stomach.
She opened her eyes, and saw her hand moving of its own accord.
Her eyes closed, unbidden, and she heard herself laugh, scream and count in quick succession.
Her eyes opened again, blinking, winking and squinting.
‘Hey-‘
‘Sorry about that,’ Jones said, ‘you should have stayed out long enough for the aftershocks to process.’
‘How long was I out?’
‘Only a couple of hours. I’m almost done.’
‘This is quick?’
‘If you were a regular agent, we’d be done already, but you’ve got all those silly limitations and rule sets, so I’ve got to double-check everything. Be patient, we’re almost done.’
‘You can’t accidentally leave me with some better access?’
Jones shook his head. ‘We’re safest following your program exactly, besides, you’ve unlocked a bunch of stuff already, if you want stuff like extra strength or agility, you’ll have to put together a case yourself, otherwise you’re stuck with the timetable.’
‘Am I an agent again?’
‘Yes, Stef, you are.’
Require: cookie.
‘I has a question.’
He held up a hand, typed one-handed for thirty seconds, then looked across at her. ‘Ok, go.’
‘How much about me can you change?’
‘You’re an agent, I could turn you into Taylor if you wanted. Give you his mindset, his attitude, his adoration of Mags... ’
‘Glitch fuel aside,’ she said. ‘I’m serious, you can pretty much reroll me in any way I want, right? Not the strength controls and stuff, but like…character select screen stuff, and…stuff, and-‘
Jones pushed himself away from his desk and scooted over on his chair to her slab. ‘I can pretty much do anything you can imagine, you’re all blue again, and just like before, your heart’s subservient to the changes we make, and I can make people from scratch, so I know how to tinker with your specs, but what do you want?’
‘I can’t even-‘ She looked away. ‘There is some sort of tech agent-experiment confidentiality thing, right?’
‘Stef…’
She sat up, rubbed remnants of blue into her skin, and played with the electrodes attached to her skin. ‘I don’t even- I can’t- Words and stuff. I want to work!’ she said, forcing the words out.
‘In what way, sweetie?’
‘I-in that way,’ she said, bringing her knees up and burying her face. ‘In- In that way. Yanno. That way.’
‘Sexually?’
She felt herself blush at the word, but carefully nodded.
He put a hand on her foot. ‘Physically, Stef, other than your reproductive system, there’s no problems. Whatever you do, or don’t feel, it’s emotional, psychological or as a result of your orientation. I could change those aspects of you as well, but I wouldn’t, because I don’t feel like playing god today, and because it all makes you who you are, so it’s dangerous to change.’
‘I-‘
‘I don’t think I’m the one you should be having this conversation with.’
‘I don’t even know how.’
‘With words. Go on. I can do the rest remotely.’
‘It’s scary.’
‘Relationships always are.’
She sighed, and shifted to Curt’s door.
To the door, not inside. Different to her usual routine, because it was different. Had to be different. Everything had changed. Everything had changed and she was just-
She knocked on the door, and killed an urge to shift to Canada.
Forty-seven seconds later, he opened the door, and he waved her in. ‘Something wrong?’
‘Why?’
‘Well, you-‘
‘I don’t know what rules have changed now that- I don’t understand any of this and you need to-‘
I wanna shift to Canada.
He held her for a moment, but she pulled away from him.
‘I’m flying blind here, ok?’
He touched fingers to her face. ‘I know, newbie, I know. It’s easy though, keep your established rule set that has been in effect since the beginning of our friendship, and just add in the romantic stuff. You don’t have to go back to knocking on my door if you can just shift in, ok?’
‘So what has changed?’
‘You know,’ he said, ‘stuff. You don’t lose any of the friendship privileges just because we’re involved now. I don’t want things to be any different, ok? Except for the stuff that is. Are you following?’
She gave him a shrug. ‘Maybe.’
‘Newbie, are you ok?’
She shook her head.
The room spun.
‘You don’t-’
She squeezed her eyes closed. ‘So when does the sex stuff happen?’
She heard nothing but silence, then a sigh, then the sound of him sitting on the bed.
She slowly opened her eyes, and stepped away from the door, putting her out of range of grabbing the handle, opening the door and running away forever.
Running. Default plan. Default answer. Easy. So easy. Easier than trying to be a grown up. Easier than facing grown up things. Grown up relationships. Expectations. Requirements. Requirements of her. Things that she didn’t-
Her stomach twisted and turned, dancing like a non-Newtonian fluid on a speaker. Making her an agent again had apparently reset everything to zero, including disappearing all the food in her stomach, which was good, otherwise the building macros would have had to dispose of regurgitated baked goods and bile.
She finally noticed Curt waving at her to get her attention.
‘What?’ she said, her voice quiet.
‘I, er, think you skipped a couple of steps, newbie, or a couple of thousand steps in your case.’
She ground her foot against the carpet. ‘Oh, come on, like-’
‘Stef.’
She looked up at him.
‘Newbie, care to explain what’s going through your head?’
‘Sex,’ she said, the word sounding foreign in her mouth. ‘If you can, I’d like to know when it’s going to happen so that I can account for it and-‘
‘Sex does not work that way. I mean, you can plan it but- And besides, I think that-‘
‘A girl is supposed to give a boy what they want. Time frames can vary from a few minutes to a few weeks, but generally to the shorter end of the scale, and whatever existing time frame there is, is generally collapsed some when there’s a pre-existing relationship. So- I- I read it on the internet. The time frames part anyway. The rest I always knew. It’s like being a good date, that’s the impression I got from my parents anyway. That good girls are cooperative. That they’re not-’ She swallowed. ‘Because I’m a girl and I’m supposed to- A lady is supposed to please her guests.’
‘Oh. Jesus Christ. I’m pretty sure that’s tea and biscuits, not- You parent did a really, really good of fucking you up, you know that, right?’
She chewed on a finger for a moment. ‘Yeah, but I don’t know what’s standard practice, what’s messed up, and what’s applicable to me.’
‘Is there a button in your HUD to make you forget everything that they ever taught you?’
‘I know you’re joking, but I probably could do that.’
He sighed.
‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, and stepped back so she could lean against the wall. Further from the door. Further from her escape route.
She noticed him staring after a moment.
‘So, what,’ he said, ‘if I told you to take off your clothes, you’d just lie back and take it?’
‘Yeah,’ she said, clapping her hands over her mouth at the automatic response. She pulled her hands away. ‘I mean, probably. I mean-’
Her stomach twisted into non-Euclidean shapes, and she wished the earth would swallow her.
Sex was expected. It was expected. It was what grown-ups did. It was part of going to bed with a boy. It wasn’t all cuddles and spooning and warm marshmallowy feelings. It was-
‘Do you really think I could rape you?’ his words came out slow, measured, emotion stripped from them.
‘But if I said yes-’
‘Just because you said yes doesn’t make it not rape, Stef.’ He patted the bed beside him. ‘Come here, newbie. Clothes on.’
She walked over, stiff-legged, and sat on the bed beside him.
He put a hand over hers. ‘You have some seriously fucked up ideas about how a relationship is supposed to work. You...really think there’s a friendship timeline, don’t you? And that what you want when it comes to love and romance doesn’t really matter? Or rather...what you don’t want.’
‘It’s not too late to back out,’ she said. ‘You can-’
‘I’m not going anywhere, unless you want me to.’
‘You knew what you were getting into...but I’m problematic enough without- I thought that it would make up for falling in love with me.’
‘You little idiot.’
She hunched in on herself. ‘Thought it would help you ignore me- I’m a bad enough choice without-’ She hugged herself. ‘I thought I could at least do this for you. Cause- Cause I’m supposed to.’
‘You’re not supposed to do anything that you don’t want to.’
‘I was always under the impression that-’
‘Stop it.’
She went quiet, slumped, and started to stare at her shoes.
‘Stef?’
Tears dripped onto her hands.
‘Stef?’
I don’t want to be any more. I want- ‘-please just let-’ -me fade away. I don’t want to be any more. I- ‘-can’t do this-’ -I just can’t.
‘You don’t have to.’
It took her a moment to look up. ‘Huh?’
‘This,’ he said, his voice husky. ‘You don’t have to this. I never wanted- I never wanted to push you into anything, and I think I might have.’
You didn’t tell me I was using my outside voice.
Sometimes the only way to help you is to let you sabotage yourself.
Oh, so you are the evil-
Grow a pair, or he’s going to break up with you.
No!
Now you’re using your inside voice.
‘No!’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘do you want to-’
‘I’m just scared and and have no idea what I’m doing.’ She choked out a sob. ‘Please don’t- I don’t want you to-’ She grabbed his closest hand and hugged it to her chest, wrapping both arms around it, and holding onto it with all of her strength. ‘Please don’t go-’
‘Well, it’s my room, so I’d have to ask you to leave, ma’am,’ he said, a tenth of his usual humour in his voice.
‘I-’
She looked up at him and he brushed the hair back from her face, then wiped her tears away.
‘Please don’t go,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing but I like this. I like you. I like...I like being liked, and I don’t deserve it, and you only picked me cause- But I like it. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I like it, and I’m scared, and I can’t do what I’m supposed to, and it’s never gonna be as good as if you- It’s not playing pretend any more.’
‘Playing pretend?’
‘I never thought anyone would want me.’
‘I want you.’
‘Even- Even without the sex? Like I- I’ll- If you want, I’ll- But I’m- Not yet. Please.’
He squeezed her hand. ‘Not yet is fine.’
‘But what about the collapsing time frame due to prior relationships?’
He pushed himself off the bed and knelt in front of her. He put his hands on her knees and sighed. ‘I knew my ex for most of high school before we started dating, and we were both fairly open to the idea, so it was like on our fourth date or something that we had sex the first time. Would have been the third date, but we couldn’t get the place to ourselves. I’ve also been to bed with fairy girls after only knowing them a couple of minutes. None. And let me repeat that: none, of that has anything to do with us, and neither does any research, or any misconception that your parents gave you. Relationships evolve at their own speed, and I know, I know all of this is new to you, but stop thinking that you’re going to have to do stuff that you don’t want to. Or before you’re ready.’
‘But I-’
‘I don’t care if I never get to touch you like that. I don’t.’
‘Sure you do- You should get something out of-’
‘I love you,’ he said strongly. ‘I’m not lusting after you like a horny teenager, I love you, Stef. And yes, I want you in this bed tonight, but I’m not trying to get you into bed, ok?’
‘But- Are we going to have sex?’
‘I hope so. One day. But not now. Not till you’re ready.’
‘But if you wait for to- I don’t think- What if I’m never ready?’
‘So then you’re never ready,’ he said, ‘I don’t care.’
‘Do you want to?’
‘Not till-’
‘I heard you, but- Do you want to? I mean, I’m not- I’m not exactly Jessica Rabbit. Do you just not care cause you don’t want to? If so, that’s an important data point cause-‘
‘Yes, Stef Mimosa, I would like to have sex with you.’
‘Why?’
‘Being in love is very arousing,’ he said, ‘and do you have any idea how good you are to hold? Fine, you aren’t exactly the kind of girl I usually go for, and I can guarantee you that if I didn’t know you, I’d have never thought about you like this. But…you’re warm and you’re good to hold, and you fit, and it’s so natural to go from that to sex.’
‘But-’
‘Last night. In the infirmary. When you said you’d take a leap of faith for me, to be with me, to say that you loved me.’
‘Yeah?’
‘I’ve never wanted to make love to anyone so badly in my life.’
Her stomach flipped, then settled a little. ‘But- But you didn’t.’
‘Of course I didn’t.’
‘Thank you.’ She looked at him for a moment, leaned in, kissed the corner of his mouth, then withdrew. ‘But...why didn’t you?’
He did his best impression of Picard’s facepalm, then looked up at her. ‘Ok, when two people love each other very much-’ He paused. ‘They don’t force the person they’re in love with to have sex.’
‘I suppose...’
‘Do you think you’re honestly the only person on the planet who doesn’t like sex?’
‘No, but-’
‘No buts.’
‘But I’m-’
He sat back beside her, and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering for a few seconds, long enough to start a second round of tears. ‘I told you,’ he said, ‘if you never want me to touch you like that, if you never want to have sex with me, that’s ok. I’ve been surviving solo anyway, aside from the occasional trip into Fairyland. Sure, sex is great, and I like it, and I’m not going to stop- Stop looking after myself. But I don’t need it from you if it’s something you don’t want or don’t need.’ Another kiss to her forehead. ‘I don’t want you in pain or feeling like shit because of something so minor.’
This made her pull away. ‘How, by any stretch of the imagination, a minor thing?’
He shook his head. ‘Do you remember that I tortured you? That I-’ He pointed to her. ‘Agent.’ He turned his finger on himself. ‘Ex-Solstice. That would be an insurmountable barrier most of the time, we’ve already gotten over that. You can deal with the fact that I’ve got a kid, even if I don’t have custody of her, which would be a big no for a lot of girls. Come on, we’ve gotten over all of the big stuff without even thinking about it, how can you think that-’
‘So tell me what to do?’
‘Get under the covers and set up Quantum Leap if you want to watch something before bed.’
‘That’s all?’
He nodded. ‘That’s all.’
‘Ok. Okies. If you’re sure.’
He wiped away more of her tears. ‘I love you, newbie.’
‘Me too. Um. You know what I mean.’
He kissed her, then nodded at the head of the bed.
She put a hand against his chest, and shifted them under the covers.
‘Show off,’ he said as he adjusted his pillows.
She required the TV and the next episode, then paused it with a requirement and a blink. ‘I think-’
‘Hm?’
She hugged her knees to her chest.
‘Newbie? You ok?’
‘I think if I could- With anyone- It’d be you. I’m not- I’m not scared to be scared. Ok, I am, a lot, but not enough to stop. The future with robots might come first. But. Ok. With you. One day. When- One day.’
He intertwined his fingers with hers, kissed them, and then looked down at her.
‘You can-’ He looked confused for a moment. ‘You can has,’ he said, looking weirded out at parsing the sentence into LOLcat, ‘you can has chest if you like.’
‘Kk,’ she said, and leaned against him.
Another requirement, and another blink unpaused the show.
She was alive. She had a boyfriend. She had actual happy flooding through her veins. The world was safe for now.
Please, please, just give me a week like this.
‘Three, two, one,’ Curt counted down.
‘Oh boy!’ they said in unison with the television.
Jones watched Stef spasm and convulse in the tank, screaming while barely conscious, bubbles forming in the blue, popping, floating to the edges of the tank.
Reabsorption was different for every agent. Some found it rapturous, orgasmic, some found it torturous, some found it worse than a glitch. There was no reason for the different experiences, no math on why it was wondrous for some and the hell of being born for others. A scant few claimed the found the same pre-consciousness nirvana in the tank, but the majority believed those lucky few to be liars.
She cracked her head against the wall of the tank, went still, and floated towards to the top of the tank, her limbs limp and heavy.
He cycled through the monitor views in his HUD rather than turning his head to look at his computers. Seventy-three per cent, right on schedule.
He felt sadness creep into the corner of his mind, and pushed all of the monitoring data from his mind, slid off his chair and went under his desk.
Merlin lay in his box, the tiny, dirty blanket wrapped around him, birthing a tiny galaxy between his hands.
‘It hurts,’ the boy whispered.
Power streamed from his hands, causing the – he hoped – illusion of the galaxy to spin and grow brighter.
‘You haven’t told me what you need.’
‘I’m trying to figure it out,’ Merlin said, his voice raw with pain. ‘I won’t tell me this time, but-‘
Sparks shot from his hand, errant streams of power that scorched the floor.
‘I can’t help you unless I know what you need, Merlin.’
‘It’s all building,’ he said, the galaxy spinning faster and faster, cycling through every colour in existence. ‘And if- We know what the phoenixes will do, we don’t know what I’ll do.’
He kissed the boy on the head. ‘Stay here.’
The illusion of the galaxy became a star, tiny and hot like a furnace.
‘Is-‘
‘Yes, it’s real,’ Merlin said, picking the thought from his mind. ‘Gravity is hard to do, so it’s good, eats up some of the power.’
‘Stay here,’ he said again.
He pushed himself out from under the desk.
This time, it was easy. The first time hadn’t been easy, had left him guilty for days, despite the reasoning, despite the logic. The second time, he’d asked permission, and she hadn’t given it. The third time he’d had no choice, and there was solace in the decision being out of his hands, just like this time.
He shifted Stef from the tank and onto a waiting slab.
He required away her shirt, and wiped away the excess blue with a towel.
‘Make her sleep,’ he said.
‘She’s already asleep,’ Merlin said, coming out from under the table, still wrapped in his blanket, the small star floating beside him.
He opened the box of tools on the slab, selected a small laser and cut into her skin, the blue laser making a clean cut through her newly absorbed blue, no flood flowed, no pain. He opened her chest and stared at the small hunk that had been a heart. Small, but still plenty. It was possible all she needed was a single grain, and it wasn’t as though he had a choice.
He ran two fingers across the mirror, careful to keep his mind blank, free from wishes, free from wants and desires.
The solid mirror turned to a pudding consistency, and allowed him to take two goopy strings of potential wishes.
He pooled the mirror in his palm, and handed to it Merlin, who had stopped trying to stay tethered to the ground. He floated with his small green sun, sweat staining his clothes.
Merlin picked the mirror from his hand and swallowed it. ‘Still tastes like cookies,’ he said, a tall glass of water winking into existence. He drank the water, and the sun grew in size. ‘More.’
He pulled more mirror from the hacker’s heart and fed it to the boy.
‘More.’
He took a moment, and placed two strings of mirror into his pocket, each wrapping in on itself to form three small tear-drop shapes as they always did, then fed the boy more of the hacker’s mirror.
‘More.’
Merlin swallowed, then collapsed to the floor, his head hitting the tiles with a crack.
The sun bloated out again, now five times its original size, and he had to stumble back to avoid its heat. He took refuge behind the tank as the illusion began to shake and shudder. The tiny sun went nova, energy blasting all across the lab. The tank exploded, showering him with glass and blue.
He killed the alarms as they hit his HUD. Alarms and assistance were the last thing they needed.
He tossed his glasses aside, his eyes adjusting in a split second as he stood and shook wet safety glass pieces from his lab coat.
The room was filled with the gases of a nebula, blues and purples and strings of green laying over every inch of the lab.
He felt sadness again, and he heard crying.
He stepped across the ramshackle lab, over the unconscious hacker’s blue-sodden body and found Merlin on his back, holding a hand to his chest.
He crouched and lifted him, then shifted them both to the boy’s tiny bedroom.
‘Where are you hurt?’ he asked as he set the boy down on the rarely-used bed, and scanned him for injuries. Despite the sound, his head was fine – he’d probably already healed it himself.
Merlin held out a finger, and showed him a tiny cut, with a single drop of blood beading on it. ‘I hurt my finger.’
He nodded, then fetched the box of dinosaur band aids from the bookcase behind him and dressed the small wound.
Several quick requirements had them both in dry clothes.
‘How do you feel now?’
Merlin cupped his hands and the image of a tree appeared there. ‘This. I told me what I needed. It’s this.’
He stared at the illusion of the tree as tiny breezes shook its boughs and leaves floated down onto the boy’s palms.
‘What do you need?’
Merlin began to cry. ‘…a nymph,’ he managed through tears. ‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t want to need that, but-‘
‘Shh, shh,’ he cooed as he held one of the most powerful beings on the planet. ‘We’ll get you what you need Merlin, we always do.’
‘But I don’t want to need it.’
‘I’m sure there are a few nymphs on the blacklist.’
‘There weren’t when I needed a brownie!’
He required an oversized handkerchief and wiped off the boy’s face. ‘None of this is your fault.’
‘I could just burn up-‘
‘No,’ he said firmly, ‘Merlin, no.’
‘But-‘
‘No more arguments, all right?’
Merlin hung his head.
‘Listen to my mind, I’ll tell you when to wake Stef up, then I’ll go find a nymph.’
Merlin crushed the illusion of the tree and blew away dirt and tiny leaves to reveal a crystal. ‘Just- Just make them eat that. Just like last time.’
He pocketed the glowing green gem. ‘Try and rest alright? Use the basement if you have to, but remember to confuse security when you do.’
‘I don’t want to have to!’
‘None of this is your fault, Merlin,’ he said again. ‘You can’t help it.’
‘That doesn’t make it any better. It doesn’t stop you from being sad. It doesn’t-‘
‘I’ll be sadder if you die,’ he said gently.
‘But I’m just-‘
‘You’re one very important person,’ he said, ‘sometimes, less important people have to die for the very important people.’
‘I don’t like it.’
‘And that’s why you’re worth it, Merlin, if you were arrogant, it would be harder for me to do what we need to do.’
He shifted back to the lab, tidied it with a few requirements, and pulled his hybrid phone from the desk drawer – the Genie phone had been altered to allow it to contact human networks as well – useful for when you needed to contact both halves of the world.
He tapped into his contacts list and called a wizard.
‘Crossfade’s Emporium of-‘
‘It’s me.’
‘Why did you call me at the store?’
‘Are you busy?’ he asked as he dragged his hand through the slowly dissipating nebula clouds.
‘For you, angel, never. Call my secure line.’
He hung up and called the second number in his contacts list.
‘Business or pleasure?’ Crossfade asked as he answered.
‘Magic,’ he said, ‘Merlin.’
‘What do you need?’
He opened his mind. ‘Read me.’
‘Don’t make me read you from so far away,’ the psychic said. ‘I can, but if you need me, you don’t want me with a migraine.’
‘I need an escort.’
‘Oh.’ There was silence for a moment. ‘When? Where?’
‘Same as last time.’
‘Then remember to come incognito, Andrea. When?’
‘I’ll meet you at that place in the Marches. The one with the flowers. As soon as you can, I’ve just got one thing to finish up here, then I’ll meet you.’
He hung up the phone, turned to his screens, and keyed in the remaining commands to make the hacker on the slab an agent again.
He keyed in a few commands as her operating system ran diagnostic tests. Her mouth opened and cycled through the alphabet a few times, testing her vocal ranges. Her fingers flexed and moved, assuring all the connections were in place.
She opened her eyes, then waved a greeting. ‘Should I be this tired?’
He nodded, and watched the diagnostic cycle in his HUD. ‘You’ll need a full night’s sleep, and as much of the next few days off as possible. Light duties, or help my kids out, I think you’ve earned a bit of a break, don’t you?’
She made a non-committal noise. Her eyes looked past him. ‘Fla-‘ She looked confused. ‘Fla- Fla- What is that?’
He spun on his char to stare at the laser in the corner. ‘The Flamidimiser?’
She gave a nod. ‘That.’
‘What about it?’
She stared at him, glassy-eyed, out of it. ‘You cut my fingers off with it.’
‘What?’
She tried to sit up. ‘You cut- Laser! It’s a laser! When did you do that? And then-‘
She shrieked and rolled off the slab, hitting the floor with a wet slap of flesh.
He looked at the screens in front of him, and saw it – new data from months ago that was integrating with her code. New memories of old events, that-
He opened his mind and called for Merlin.
‘What do you remember?’
She pushed herself to her feet. ‘He tried to kill me! He tried to kill me!’
Her head snapped up, and her arms went limp, her body swaying like a tree in a strong breeze.
‘Oh gods, what am I- What am I remembering?’ She wrapped her arms around her chest and hugged herself. ‘Please-‘ She looked to him, tears in her eyes. ‘What- My- Stress tests? I can- Why didn’t I-? He tried- And Reynolds-‘
‘You shouldn’t be remembering any of that.’
‘Agent Squishy doesn’t remember it,’ Merlin said. ‘We took the memories from the agent.’
He turned and watched the boy pull himself through the wall.
‘What are you talking about?’ she asked, her voice hoarse.
Merlin hugged her, and she calmed like his arms were made of tranquilisers. ‘Your heart kept the memories.’
‘I don’t want to remember this. Please. I don’t- I- I’m- I wasn’t supposed to remember this. Make the memories go away again! Please!’
‘Stef-’
‘Please!’
‘Close your eyes,’ Merlin said.
She closed her eyes, and Merlin blew a long breath against her forehead.
Her legs gave out, and she went to the floor again. Merlin cradled her, blowing long breaths against her head, through her head, through her mind to extract the memories as fragile bubbles.
He watched as the memories floated past him, all the Agency-approved traumas they’d put her through, all of the sick pleasure Taylor and his cohorts had taken in repeatedly disembowelling her, crushing her, killing her in a thousand different ways. She cried and clung to Merlin as bad memory after bad memory came pouring out of her mind.
He reached out a finger and popped the closest bubble, experiencing the memory for a brief second before it faded.
When the last memories floated past his eyes – the memory of Ryan taking her memories, and the brand new memory of remembering it all, Merlin looked up and nodded. ‘All gone.’
‘Thank you,’ he said.
He shifted the agentified hacker back up onto the slab. ‘I’ll be done here in a few minutes,’ he said, ‘then I’ll go get you dinner.’ Dinner. A simple code word. A safe code word. A way of minimising the impact of what he was about to do.
Merlin disappeared, and he dealt with the hacker as quickly as he could.
He laid his lab coat over his chair, and brought up his glamour options, and selected the Andrea profile.
His body slipped and shifted, morphing him from tech agent to a face unaffiliated with the Agency.
She pulled her hair back into a loose bun and packed a small – fairy currency, a small bill fold of other fae currencies and standardised, tradeable IOUs from low-ranking members of various Courts, her Genie phone and three prepared vials, each containing a small tear-drop of mirror.
‘I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ she said, opening her mind and projecting the words towards Merlin’s room.
She shifted to the Marches, the filthy warehouse appearing after the lagging shift. None of the warehouse agents were around as she walked from the blue-painted shifting circle to the door. Typical. They did well enough to avoid recycling, but barely.
She stepped out into the Marches evening and flagged a cab as it passed – an acceptable deviation to the plan. She gave the hob driver the address, and checked for messages on her phone as they drove the short distance to the flower shop/gift shop/cafe they’d somehow chosen as their usual meeting spot.
She paid the driver and stepped out to greet the waiting wizard. Crossfade bowed to her, then nodded to his car at the end of the block.
The prematurely grey man called himself a wizard. It was on his store front, it was on his business cards and it was all over the advertisements for his stage show.
Wizard wasn’t accurate – though there hadn’t been an agreement on what wizard had meant for centuries, other than when referring to Gandalf or Dumbledore – but the man wore it as a badge of pride.
He was one of the rare true psychics, and rarer still, a human mutation, rather than someone with fae ancestry. It made him dangerous, it made him valuable, and it made him a great resource to the Agency.
They kept him on retainer, exclusively, with a list of conditions as long as her arm – but the primary one was that he kept his powers as secret from everyone else – which was barely a problem, as Crossfade’s biggest use of power was hiding in plain sight as a stage magician, therefore destroying all of his credibility with anyone who would think twice about his all-too-accurate guesses.
They drove in silence towards the market, the wizard picking at her mind, gleaning what details she would let him have. There was no need to talk. It was the same as last time, a purchase and a murder.
They parked, and Crossfade locked the doors.
The slave market was held in an utterly unimposing building – it was well-tended, its paint and fixtures always in the best of repair and even updated to keep up with the latest trends.
They joined the small line and were inspected by three lithe demons as they paid the nominal admission fee, and allowed the tallest to take a small drop of their blood.
Satisfied with their inspections, the demons handed them each a mask, and allowed them into the pavilion.
They donned the brightly-coloured masks – which other than making it hard to immediately identify them on security cameras, were infused with a subtle magic to fog memory just a touch, just to give buyers the edge of anonymity.
‘I wish you would let me come here alone.’
‘No.’
‘There’s no reason-‘
‘I need your services, Crossfade, no your arguments.’
‘I can’t help being afraid that you’ll-‘
A image went into her mind – of herself in a cage being sold for sex, for food, for her wings.
She pushed the images away tried to close off her mind a little – not enough to keep him out, but enough to dissuade the from sharing every image that went through his mind.
‘Despite the nature of the market,’ she said, ‘buyers are safe. If they weren’t, there’d be no clientele, it’s a lose-lose situation. I was coming here before I had your assistance, Crossfade, and in all that time I’ve only had four people try to negotiate for my indentured servitude, at rates that were worth considering, no less.’
‘And what about for your wings, angel?’
‘No offers worth considering,’ she said. ‘And fewer times than you might imagine. I’d imagine in a forum that regularly sold agents, I’d be propositioned more often. No agent has ever been sold here, it’s one of the few reasons I can stomach this place.’ She touched a hand to her mask. ‘Now find me a nymph.’
‘You’re not exactly spoiled for choice,’ Crossfade said as they came to a T-junction between the market stalls. ‘I see some green lights, let’s try down there.’
Green lights for those fae attuned to nature in one way or another – nymphs and hobs and the like, and given the nature of the meat market, there would be full-blood and halfbreeds and less, whatever the slavers could get their hands on.
They were buyers, they were safe.
A demon walked past, and she couldn’t supress her shudder.
They were buyers, they were safe.
Feelings of reassurance touched her mind, and she was grateful for the wizard’s presence.
The first four stalls with green lights held nothing of value – one only had a live hob, the other specialised in pieces, rather than a living whole.
They found a half dozen nymphs, all of them already sold and awaiting pick-up by their new owners. One stall owner though, was kind enough to give them a list of his associates who had nymphs for sale – he saw no harm in sending them to a competitor when he was out of stock.
‘There,’ Crossfade said as they stepped up to the next stall. ‘At the back.’
She peered through the mess of dirty bodies, and saw a young man with green hair and skin patched with bark – what she could see of it, anyway, his upper body was restrained with a straitjacket.
Crossfade began to barter with the owner, then turned and grinned. ‘Pay the man, darling.’
She let the question of price hang on her mind, and Crossfade ran a single finger across the back of her hand.
She reached into her purse and pulled out a vial containing one of the tear-drop shaped pieces of mirror. She tried to look conflicted for a moment, as if it was too high of a price, then handed over the vial.
The demon disappeared it into his pocket, walked away, and returned, dragging the captured nymph by a short leather leash.
‘Do you remember where the Thorn Rooms are?’
She gave him a slight nod as they weaved through the other buyers and their purchases.
Thorn Rooms. The horrible, dark parody of Rose Rooms. Very likely the horrible, dark origin of the Rose Rooms.
Even in the straightjacket, the nymph struggled as Crossfade led him towards the room.
She walked ahead of the wizard and their purchase, and swiped on with an untraceable bank card. It was expensive, when compared to a Rose Room, but the price was well worth it.
The math was simple. Twenty-for-twenty was a standard rate for a Rose Room, rooms at a higher rates were either comparable to hotel rooms, came with a meal, or offered other exclusive features. Rooms of a lower rate were hit-or-miss at best, ten-for-twenty rooms generally had nothing but a standard bed, and no name brand items, if any. Rates lower than that, like the infamous two-for-twenty were little better than toilet-stall sized rooms providing more privacy than a dark alley. They were dirty, they were smelly, and they were unpleasant.
Thorn Rooms, on the other hand, generally went for two hundred-for-twenty. Thorn Rooms with rates like that were guaranteed to be clean, to have evidence of previous users eliminated. Cheaper Thorn Rooms always smelt of blood, and there’d often be bits of gore in the corners missed by the cleaners in-between uses.
The meat market ran the gamut of rooms, from the cheap – for those who just needed a quick minute to prove their dominance over a new slave, brand them, or for those inclined – swallow their purchase whole, to the reasonably priced, where the poor nymph would die.
Crossfade closed the door, and let the nymph fall to the floor.
With the brownie, she’d tried to talk to it. Tried to justify it to herself, tried to offer some condolences, made an offer to compensate the family.
There was nothing you could to console the dying.
People thought that they could make the situation better, that they could somehow alleviate how bad they were feeling by comforting the dying. When it came down to it, there was nothing at all to say to a person about to go to Death that made it better.
She’d only killed a few so far, and he valued their weight on her soul.
It would get easier. It would get so much easier.
A few would turn into more than a few, which would turn into many, which would turn into a statistic.
Statistics were nice, safe numbers that could stay as numbers, and not as guilt to be added.
There was no point in feeling guilty, it wasn’t as though there was a choice. There was no choice, ergo, she shouldn’t feel any guilt.
She pulled the glowing green crystal from her pocket and held it up to the nymph. The fae stared, mesmerised by the glow, forgetting to struggle against its bonds.
She nodded to Crossfade, who removed the gag from the nymph’s mouth.
‘Just swallow this,’ she said, ‘swallow this and-‘
The nymph made no argument, didn’t cry, didn’t beg. All the resistance was gone from the fae’s body. The nymph stared at the crystal, looking high off its presence, yielding, not willing to argue. The young man opened his mouth, and accepted the crystal.
Crossfade let go of the leash and stepped back.
The glow suffused the nymph, and everything that he was disappeared. His features went slack, then diminished, for a moment, he looked like a green-tinted version of one of the Lost’s Blanks. After a moment, all of his features sucked into his face, leaving nothing but smooth skin and an open hole where his mouth had been.
Small white vines crawled from the nymph’s mouth, and slowly covered his body in a living lattice. His stained clothes were consumed by the creeping vines, which grew thicker and thicker, cycling through all the shades of green, before growing tough, becoming branches. The rest of the fae’s body was consumed as the roots twisted him into the trunk of a small tree, roots spreading out across the room to hold it steady.
Leaves sprouted from the few branches, and an apple formed in front of him, suffused with the same green glow.
The bigger the apple grew, the more withered the tree became – as if it were – and it likely was – pouring every bit of life and magic and energy into the production of this single, perfect fruit.
The tree tilted sideways and she grabbed for the fruit as the tree shattered into a pile of dry park and dust.
‘Want me to carry it?’ Crossfade asked.
She blew some dust from the apple and polished it with her sleeve. ‘If you promise to be careful.’
She felt life pulsing within the fruit, whether it was an echo of the nymph, or if it was already an extension of Merlin, she wasn’t sure, and she wasn’t sure she needed to know.
The wizard carefully placed the oversized apple into his carry bag, and crooked an arm. ‘I think it’s time to leave.’
She stared down at the pile of dust. ‘I never thought I could do this. Never thought I could kill so easily. I am well aware my kind is not made for fighting, but most techs score their first kill within a few years of being generated. I’ve devised ways to kill, I’ve created weapons that have killed, I’ve helped create new agents that have impressive trails of corpses behind them, but- I went two decades before I killed, that’s rare, even for a tech. I have killed for duty, I have no issue with that. My problem is that I have less of an issue with this. From an objective point of view, it’s very simple. It needed to be done. One death now or many deaths later.’
‘You did the right thing. I trust you, angel, you always do the right thing.’
The wizard put his arms around her and held her for a moment, then for a long moment. She pulled away, and looked to the Thorn Room’s door. ‘We need to-’
The wizard reached for her again, and she didn’t fight as the wizard pulled her close. She let him embrace her for a moment, enjoying the contact as he gently pushed her head against his shoulder. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of books, burnt hair and cheap oils masquerading as love potions.
‘What do you want, Crossfade?’ she finally asked.
‘You know what I want.’
‘I can’t-’
Crossfade pushed her against the wall. ‘Can’t you?’ She heard herself moan as the wizard kissed her neck. ‘I’ve waited this long, angel, I can wait longer if you want me to.’
‘I can’t love you. I don’t have time to love.’
‘I’d never ask you to take the long to love me,’ he said. ‘I’m not asking for love, angel, I’ll take what you can give me.’
Choice one was to deny the wizard again, to reject a man who’d made his intentions, his desires clear the first time they’d met.
Timers ran in her HUD, each, and she weighed them against the warm feelings spreading through her body.
Some of it was Crossfade’s lust...a lot of it was Crossfade’s lust, but not all of it. Enough to make it well worth considering.
Jones never got laid.
Jones was the good agent. The friend to all. The quiet, harmless geek that did his job and always helped out where he could. Deep down, and when truly honest, it was who she was. Analysis and plans. Knowing the outcome.
Only Jones could do the things that needed to be done.
Jones wasn’t the extent of who she was.
‘I can give you tonight.’ She kissed the wizard, and shivered as the psychic reached ran a hand over her chest, and let it rest between her legs.
‘Not here,’ she whispered. ‘All right, but not here.’
‘If you insist,’ Crossfade said as he withdrew his hand.
With a theatrical move straight his stage show, red sparkles flew from his hand and surrounded them. The wind in the alley picked up and encircled them in a mini cyclone.
She felt Crossfade’s lust leaking into his mind, coming up against the solid barriers that kept her steady, kept her neutral on her own wants, kept her able to be twelve moves ahead of those that thought they were twelve moves ahead.
Crossfade kissed her, and she felt a soft mattress under his back.
‘You’ll have to teach me that trick,’ she whispered as Crossfade straddled her.
‘A magician never shares his tricks,’ the wizard said as he put his hands to her chest, and pulled her clothes away, the jacket and the shirt becoming insubstantial, passing right through her body.
Crossfade’s lust pounded in her mind, and she gave in.
The world would not collapse in five minutes. None of her plans would be delayed if she was five minutes late. None-
Her pants were taken in the same manner, and her panties taken slowly down by hand. Slowly. Teasingly. Drawing out the calm before the storm. She grasped the sheets as the wizard put his mouth to her.
She let her mind open, and through the overwhelming lust, felt the wizard pushing in feelings of loyalty, of desire, of the hundred times they’d come close to this, but had been denied.
Her breathing slowed, her eyes rolling back into her head with pleasure as ghostly, telekinetic hands ran up and down her legs. She came with very little effort, her mind reeling more than her body. She saw explosions, and let her sense of release wash through the connection back to the wizard.
‘Job well done?’ Crossfade asked, licking his lips as he rested against the pillows beside him. ‘Did you just think “job well done”? I’m not one of your recruits, you know.’
Her cheeks flushed. ‘Sorry, I’m not used to-’
‘Just let your mind sing to me.’
She closed her mouth and let her feelings do the talking.
Crossfade slowly undressed himself, then pulled her close. ‘I guess you could recruit me,’ the wizard said, their legs intertwining. ‘But I don’t think I’m ready to give up the stage, and performing to the same group of recruits every night would be boring. Requiring could spice things up, though. It would be unbeatable sleight of hand.’
‘It would be cheating.’
The wizard sucked on her neck for a moment. ‘I don’t mind cheating, if it gets the job done.’
‘How did you get us here? I didn’t think teleportation was in your range of talents.’
‘I don’t ask your secrets,’ Crossfade said. ‘But really, it was just a bit of over the counter magic,’ he said. ‘Single-use, and expensive, but you’re right, so much better than the Thorn Room.’
She let her hands idly explore the wizard’s body. ‘Your turn?’ she asked as wrapped a hand around him.
‘Oh, angel-’ Crossfade said. ‘Oh, please-’
She wrapped her legs around him, and pulled him close.
* * *
‘I won’t push further than you’ll let me,’ Crossfade said.
‘Again already?’
‘Merlin,’ Crossfade said, ‘no more than you’re willing to tell me, but why does he need them? Unicorn blood, there’s more than a thousand different uses for that, and that’s true for a lot of things he needs, but the brownie, and now the nymph, I’m just- If I understood more, I can help you more.’
‘He doesn’t know why he needs them, I don’t know why either, all I know is the outcome.’
‘What was the outcome?’
She reached for the glass of wine, finished it, then topped up their glasses. ‘I-’ She let the need hang heavy on her mind. The need to know she could trust the wizard, trust him where she couldn’t trust anyone else. She could do it on her own, but help made things easier, made it easier to spread herself thinner, to have more eyes in more places.
Crossfade kissed her, feelings and images flooding into her mind. Loyalty. Dedication. Devotion. She pushed back on the wizard’s mind with the idea of duty, letting the concept hang between them. She felt the wizard latch on to the idea, the strength of the emotion spiking physical sensation in her chest. Duty. Yes.
Crossfade knelt on the bed, pushing his forehead down onto the sheets.
Duty.
Everything the concept was. Everything it meant to an agent. Everything it meant to the both of them.
The wizard looked up at her, and nodded. A pledge of duty. Swearing devotion. A promise to respect, to genuflect and to obey.
‘I accept,’ she said to the wizard.
She’d only had a few pledges of duty, and none in such a sexy fashion. None from a person she actually felt she could begin to trust.
She felt lust pricking at the edges of the wizard’s mind again.
Their minds fell into sync again and their bodies followed.
Despite the fact that it was the fourth time in just over ninety minutes, it was as raw, as passionate and as fierce as the first time. The yearning to be joined, the need to prove his love, the want to please. The wizard wore his emotions on his sleeve, and it was more than a little endearing. Readers always left you naked and vulnerable, exposed however they wanted to see you.
She’d become accustomed to being under the scrutiny of readers, of relying on tricks to keep them out of the areas of his mind he needed to keep secret, of the plans that no one could know.
It was a refreshing experience for a reader to show their emotions so openly in return.
Crossfade pulled her to his chest, their hearts beating against each other as they fucked.
‘Dinner?’ Crossfade asked when they’d finished.
‘No.’
The wizard ran a finger down her spine, his mouth following to kiss each of her vertebrae. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’ve been away long enough as it is.’
‘You’d know if he was in trouble.’
She stood, and began to pick up her clothes. ‘Come back with me,’ she said. ‘Come back and I’ll have dinner with you. We can call it an official visit and you’ll get paid.’
‘Who am I to argue with your logic, Agent Jones?’
She smiled, and threw his pants back to him. ‘Come on, wizard.’
‘Whatever you say, angel.’
‘Where is he?’
Stef hugged her arms around herself and stared down at Ryan. The formerly sleeping agent looked up at her, blinked once, then sat up. ‘Stef-‘
‘Yeah, yeah, I know it’s the middle of the night, but-‘ She sat heavily on the couch beside him. ‘Where is he?’
The lights in the office came up. ‘I was going to tell you.’
‘What were you going to tell me?’
He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. ‘I’m sorry, and I swear to you I had nothing to do with it.’
‘This story doesn’t end with him in tiny chunks, does it?’
Ryan shook his head.
She knuckled her eyes, forcing tears away. ‘Just tell me already.’
‘He’s an employee of the Agency.’
Shift: Canada.
The world blurred and his office disappeared. A patch of forest that she was sure she’d seen on a postcard stared back at her. She sighed, stared into her HUD, processed a couple of commands, and shifted to the closest McDonald's.
[Stef, Come home.]
[No.]
She ordered a Happy Meal, and sat.
Ryan appeared across the booth, and looked at her, somewhere between sad!face and dad!face. ‘I’m sorry.’
She unwrapped the burger and stared down at it. ‘It’s not your fault. I know it’s not your fault. But. But. But. But but. Infinite but loop. Better than an infinite butt loop. Actually that’d be scary. Not as bad as an infinite boob loop though. How the fsck is he-?!’ Her shoulders slumped. ‘Okies. Tell me what happened.’
‘After you-’ He folded his hands on the table. ‘After you went after the phoenix, we had no idea what to do, what was going to happen, or- Or frankly, if it would do any good. We waited for hours just to see if you’d only averted the end of the world for a little while. When we realised we’d had a stay of execution, we began to get reinforcements back in to seal off the area, and begin the process of building up that Outpost, just to try and control the situation.’
‘Any idea on who’s going to run that yet?’
‘None.’ He smiled. ‘Would you like the position?’
She went limp and hid under the table.
‘Young lady, get off the floor.’
‘Only if you promise not to give me any more job offers!’
‘All right,’ he said.
She slowly crawled up from under the table, peeked her eyes over the edge and stared. ‘Are you sure?’
‘It was simply a courtesy,’ he said, ‘but if you were so inclined, we could have argued the case.’
She pulled herself back onto her seat. ‘A, I don’t even know how to be an agent. B, I had to look after Darren’s Outpost for like two days and I couldn’t handle that, and I nearly got eaten by bunyips. C, I like working for you. D, my boyfriend is your Aide, so that’s another reason not to leave. E, I have a boyfriend. F, seriously I have a boyfriend, how did that happen? G, no, really, seriously, how did that happen? H, I think I’m off topic now, but I want to keep listing stuff. I-’
‘Stef.’
‘Yessir.’
‘Thinking about that bastard was the last thing on my mind. With everything, with how worried I was for you, for the world, I didn’t think of him once, and I don’t think anyone else did either. If this hadn’t happened, he would have likely died of starvation in the cells.’
‘That would have been ok. Not as good as little chunky bits, but ok.’
‘Clarke made a deal with him.’
She saw red and crushed the burger in her hands, sauce and meat juices dripping down her hands.
I’m going to- ‘-fucking kill him! I’ll fucking kill him! I will tear out his fucking eyes and I will-!’
Her mouth closed on its own.
[I know how you feel, but I can’t let you scream in public.]
[Can I scream at home?]
[Yes.]
She stood, dropped the remains of the burger onto the tray and wiped her hands on her uniform, and walked from the restaurant. Once into the car park, the world blurred and the strong, safe scent of home flooded into her nostrils.
‘As you were saying?’ Ryan prompted.
‘I’m glitching, right? This is some sort of nightmare, right?’
‘I’m sorry.’
Her breath came out in ragged gasps, and the world seemed to spin a little. Not real. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.
‘I need to hit something,’ she said.
He put his hands on her shoulders and the world blurred again, this time, the gym came into view. He quietly guided her into the training simulator – the simulation was of a small paved area, surrounded on all sides by squat buildings.
Something heavy was pressed against her chest, and she looked down. A rocket launcher.
‘Seriously?’
He stepped back. ‘Go ahead.’
She hefted it and rested it on her shoulder, aimed it at the closest building and fired. There was a satisfying loud boom and she reloaded it with a thought, and pulled the trigger again.
Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire. Reload. Fire.
She dropped the bazooka, and collapsed back against her angel.
‘Okies,’ she said, ‘tell me what happened.’
He lifted her and the world blurred again, back to his office. He put her on the couch, and handed her a bowl of ice cream larger than her head.
‘How do you want me to refer to him?’ he asked as she lowered her face towards the ice cream and began to lick the sauce from the whipped cream.
‘The bastard,’ she said, a thought adding precisely five hundred sprinkles to the sundae. ‘You sound classy when you say bastard.’
‘As you wish,’ he said. ‘Clarke made a deal with the bastard. Contrary to the little existing records that the Agency had on him, he’s been active with the fae for decades. He’s a lawyer, you knew that, of course, but he’s also a Kings-trained lawyer, which makes him far rarer, and is apparently one of some note. He’s named in a lot of lists of their top scholars.’
‘So?’
‘Fae law is convoluted at best, and contradictory at worst. Kings Law overrides all other authorities when it comes to the fae. Each court has their own rules of course, and Fairyland has its own set of laws again, but all yield to the Kings. There are few that understand the complexity of interaction between all of the systems, and apparently the bastard is one of them. That, unfortunately, makes him a valuable resource.’
‘But-‘
‘For the record, I don’t care. He deserved to be punished for his treatment of you, let alone your murder. He came into my damn agency and killed one of my agents, he should have been executed, but the decision wasn’t mine. Clarke went behind my back and straight to Central.’
‘He doesn’t get punished at all? But he- He-‘
Sad!face morphed into mad!face.
She moaned, and looked to her sundae. ‘Whatever you’re going to say, just wait a damn minute, cause it isn’t good.’
She finished off all of the toppings, the sauce, leaving the ice-cream naked, then gulped down half a cup of coffee. She closed her eyes. ‘Ok, hit me.’
‘His punishment is a pay cut for six months.’
Words failed her.
She put the bowl of ice cream down and stared at him. ‘No.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘No.’
‘I’m sorry.’
She felt her face twitching, and her hands dug at the leather of the couch. ‘There is no way that you can’t be shitting me right now. Tell me that- That- That-‘
‘Bastard?’
‘Goat fucking shit sucking waste of carbon and oxygen is getting paid?! I- I- I-’ She slipped onto the floor and hugged her knees. ‘You want to know why I think I’m worthless? I think this situation pretty much speaks for itself. If I was really worth-‘
He came onto the floor beside her and held her. ‘It would have been the same outcome for any agent, I’ve been assured of that. It’s not a slight against you, if anything, it’s proof that you’re being treated like one of us.’
‘That…that really isn’t comforting, actually.’
‘And it shouldn’t be, but at least it’s equal.’
‘Ok, so what’s his deal?’
‘He’s exclusive to the Agency for the next two years, at something approaching emergency rates. He won’t be here, that’s our one win here, you won’t have to see him, he’ll be working out of Central-’ he paused. ‘Likely out of Central and the Academy.’
She bit her lower lip. ‘Well...I guess I’ll have to wait to go to classes.’
Tears came out in a flood.
James Mimosa, bastard.
James Mimosa, murderer.
A father who had never treated her as a child. A father – never, ever a dad – who hadn’t ever held her, comforted her, or been a figure of safety or care. He’d let a child die without noticing. He’d left her behind in the Gardens because a phone call had distracted him. He’d kept her at arm’s length, yelled at her, belittled her, made her feel stupid.
He’d always shown scorn towards magic, even the stupid princess-movie type of magic, treated it as frivolous and stupid. Not surprising, anything she liked was frivolous and stupid.
He’d walked into her home and murdered her. Come into the one place where she was safe and killed her dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.
Dead and the punishment was a new job.
She wept into her dad’s suit and felt grief empty her out.
James was Agency. He was Agency now. He was going to ruin it. He was going to ruin everything. He’d find a way to get rid of her, to take her away from Ryan, to get her thrown into a recycling chamber, to-
A soft handkerchief wiped at her face, clearing her face of snot and tears.
She’d found the Agency by mistake, and almost everything after that had been a mistake too – shooting the mirror, being useless enough to need so much help that via time and osmosis, she’d gotten a boy to fall in love with her, and saving the world. Ineptitude and dumb luck. Her ineptitude. Her dumb luck.
It was the one damn thing she’d done on her own. The one thing that had nothing to do with her parents, with her family, with the choices other people had thrust on her.
It had been hers.
It was hers and now he’d taken it.
He was right. He was smarter than she was. Whatever her IQ was, his was bigger. Whatever knowledge she had, his far exceeded it. He’d apparently made all the fancy lists that said he was an awesome fae lawyer, and her grades had never reflected how smart she was. It had been a choice of learn to manage insanity or concentrate on school – insanity was forever, school only lasted a few years, the choice had been easy.
He was smart and successful, and she was the shit stain on his shiny shoe.
‘Stef?’
The Agency’s got- ‘-the better Mimosa now, you don’t need me.’
Strong arms held her tighter than ever before. Held her together. Stopped her from falling apart.
‘He ruins everything,’ she whispered, her voice raw. ‘And now he’s ruined the only thing I’ve ever done good.’
‘He can’t take anything away from you.’
‘You wouldn’t know,’ she said. ‘He’s so good at taking things away from me. He took everything from me. I mean- Everything. I thought maybe that I started to- That I could start to- But nope, he’s back, and he’ll take it all away again. He’s really good at it. It took so little effort on his part to destroy me as a kid, and I’m sure he’s had practice being a bastard in the meantime. Why the fuck should I even bother when he’ll just ruin it for me again. Sorry,’ she said as she tried to pull away from the agent. ‘He’s won. You should probably start investing your time in Curt now, he’s actually got some potential.’
‘He can’t do anything to you, Stef. You’ve got people to protect you now, you’re not alone any more.’
‘He took away Hook, and he was imaginary! How hard can it be for him to take away people that are real?!’
‘We’re not going anywhere, newbie.’
‘Eh?’
She twisted away from Ryan and saw Curt, half-asleep and for once not that bright-and-shiny, his earpiece in his ear. ‘We are not going anywhere, newbie,’ he said again.
‘You were asleep,’ she said.
‘You needed me.’
‘I want to see him,’ she said. ‘Well, I don’t want to, but I need to. And- I-‘
‘That’s not a good idea.’
‘Did you say something about me being able to make my own decisions?’
‘You’ll get into trouble if you kill him.’
‘I won’t.’
‘Stef-‘
‘You can hold my gun, Come on, maybe I could scare him to death? I mean, the last time he saw me, I was a corpse.’
Ryan looked uncomfortable.
She sighed and required a cookie. ‘He’s knows I’m not dead, doesn’t he?’
‘Newbie?’
She turned to Curt. ‘Yeah?’
‘Newbie, do you remember that entire floor dedicated to presents for you? The entire fae world knows that you’re not dead. The entire fae world knows what you did.’ He paused for a moment. ‘And the entire fae world knows exactly what you are. Unfortunately, that includes him.’
‘My secret identity is out?’
Curt nodded.
She pouted and stared at the carpet. ‘Does that make me the worst superhero ever?’
‘Everyone knows? Why does everyone know?’ Stef stood and stared down at Ryan, waiting for the explanation.
‘So many agents died,’ Ryan said. ‘How you survived became an obvious question.’
‘And no one thought to lie?’
‘Lie and say what?; he asked as he moved back up to the couch. ‘And people who did know about your experiment were disseminating the truth faster than we could have possibly caught with a cover story. It was the best move to come out and reveal the truth. It’s one less complexity. I am sorry, but given what you’ve done, you’re safe, no one is going to try and take your mirror from you.’
‘And in six months when they’ve moved on to the next person burning in their fifteen minutes of fame?’
‘Saving the world isn’t something that people will forget easily, especially with how publicised this is.’
She required another couch and sat opposite. Curt sat beside her and laid a hand over hers. ‘We’ll figure six months from now out when we get to it. We’ve still got another phoenix to find.’
‘We’re getting off topic,’ she snapped, ‘I want to see the bastard. Even if I can’t scare him to death, I need- I need-‘
‘it will only cause you more pain.’ Ryan said, ‘and you’ve already been through enough for-‘
‘What the hell is stopping him from trying again?!’ she snapped. ‘He in here and he killed me, tell me what the hell is stopping him from doing it again?’
‘That’s the only good thing about this deal,’ Ryan said. ‘You don’t belong to him anymore. He can’t hurt you without consequences ever again.’
‘I want to look at this deal,’ she said. ‘Can I has the paperwork, I want to-‘
‘Require his employee file,’ Ryan said, ‘you’ll have access to read anything in there.’
Require: employee file – James Mimosa.
The sound of a failed command played in her head as the error message popped into her HUD. [No current employee.]
She felt herself twitch. She bit her lip and looked across at Ryan. ‘Try it yourself.’
‘Pardon?’
She held up her hands. ‘Try it yourself.’
His mad!face returned, then it turned into one of confusion. ‘I don’t- I’m not sure what’s going on here.’
‘Sir, newbie, I don’t have a HUD. What’s going on?’
A look of concentration passed over Ryan’s face – his looking-at-his-HUD face. ‘He’s no longer listed in our current employees register. I’m checking contractors – he’s not there either. Checking former employees.’ Mad!face returned. ‘Found him.’
‘Does former mean dead?’ she asked.
‘No, not dead.’ A stack of paperwork appeared in Ryan’s hands and he spread it across a freshly required table between the couches. ‘I’m trying to process this as quickly as I can.’
Curt leaned forward and grabbed one of the files. ‘Liars?’ he asked as he flicked through the contents. ‘What do the-‘ he went quiet, and flicked through more pages.
She leaned forward and sorted through the files, until she found the original agreement that had saved the bastard’s life.
‘The Liars bargained for him,’ Ryan said, ‘according to this, they gave us a decent deal to buy out his contract.’
Curt growled an impressively Taylorish growl, then looked across to Ryan. ‘He should have been blacklisted, how could they bargain for him?’
She focused on the papers in her hands, skimming through the terms of James’ work for the Agency, through the details of his pay. With each paragraph, her fingers tightened the paper in her grip until the contract ripped in two.
‘Who. The. Fuck. Wrote. This?’ she demanded, blood pounding in her ears.
‘Clarke,’ Ryan said. ‘His deal, his contract.’
Shift: location of Agent Clarke.
Ryan’s office blurred, and a quiet, smoky room of a nightclub appeared. Clarke lay on a couch, a woman kneeling in front of him.
Steady. Focus.
‘Get out!’ she screamed at the woman as Ryan and Curt appeared at her side.
Clarke’s head shot up, blinking rapidly as he worked to cover himself. ‘The hell?’ he asked as the woman ran out of the room.
She kicked a table, and it flew against the wall.
‘Are you fucking stupid?’ she screamed. ‘No, I know the answer to that, you are fucking stupid! What I want to-‘
‘I’m not on duty,’ Clarke snapped, ‘make an appointment.’
She waved the two halves of the torn contract in his face. ‘Did you write this tripe?’
‘If I had some fucking idea of what you were waving in my face, Mimosa, then-‘
‘Your deal with James!’ she snapped. ‘Are you solely responsible for this shit?’
‘I am.’
‘How do you even manage to dress yourself?’ she demanded. ‘I’m not a lawyer, I’m not a professional, and I can see the holes in this! James lives and breathes this stuff, why the hell didn’t you get someone who knew what they were doing to write this? This deal is entirely one sided!’
‘Your boytoy would have slaughtered him!’ Clarke snapped, ‘I might think with my dick, but at least my dick is capable of critical thinking! He was a resource that you people left to starve in a cell.’
‘Is that why he belongs to the Liars now?’ She rolled the papers and hit him like a naughty dog. ‘You practically invited him to walk out! You didn’t black list him! You locked him in for exclusivity, but you didn’t block him from being bought out, but because you don’t know what you’re doing-‘
Clarke slapped her across the face.
Her knee came up to his groin before he had a chance to react.
‘I hate that man more than anything else,’ she said as she stepped away from him. ‘I would love nothing more than to watch him bleed out. He deserves to suffer like the bastard he is, and even with all that in mind, I would not dare insult his intelligence. He is a godsdamn genius, and he used you. Thanks to your utter ineptitude, he doesn’t get punished for my murder. You rewarded him, you validated him.’
‘It’s not a murder because you didn’t stay dead!’ Clarke spat. ‘You irreverent little whore, who the fuck do you think you are?’
‘I deserved better than this,’ she said. ‘You fucked up.’
‘I did my job.!’ Clarke said.
‘You went around me,’ Ryan said, ‘you rushed the contract and you kept it a secret until it was too late to do anything about it, and you didn’t even inform me that he’d been traded.’
‘That just came through last night,’ Clarke said, ‘I’m getting my sorrows sucked out, or I was until you burst in. We got the better end of the deal,’ he said, ‘so it was a gain for the Agency, so while I don’t have a new Kings expert, this still looks good for me.’
She punched him. The hit was measly, ill-aimed and weak, but it made her feel better.
‘Touch me again and I’ll-‘
‘And you’ll what?’ Ryan demanded as he stepped between them.
Clarke sat back down on the couch. ‘He’s still in Central until nine a.m., you want to bitch at someone, go bitch at him.’ He looked up at Ryan. ‘With all due respect, sir, which isn’t a lot right now, unless you’re planning on compensating me for interrupting my downtime, can I please go back to getting my cock sucked?’
‘I need a year to date report regarding your activities, and projected expenses until the end of the year.’
‘It can wait.’
‘That’s an order, Clarke. You’re on duty as of now, I want it on my desk as soon as possible.’
‘Interim Director Ryan, you’re being a petty bastard.’
Ryan glared. ‘Be grateful I don’t put you through the wall.’
Clarke gave them the finger and shifted away.
‘Given how early it is,’ she said, ‘I assume we can’t go see James now. If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone until then.’
Ryan squeezed her shoulder. ‘I don’t think-‘
‘Please,’ she said, fighting for control of her voice, ‘please, I just want to be alone for a while. I can’t- I-‘
Two sets of arms hugged her, and the world blurred, Ryan’s office coming back into view.
‘You’re not alone any more,’ Ryan said, ‘you don’t have to go through this alone.’
‘But I-‘
A kiss on her cheek. ‘We’re here for you, newbie.’
‘We’ll deal with this as a family,’ Ryan said.
She felt Curt stiffen and she pulled away from the group hug to point at him. ‘Haha, you got adopted too!’
‘Sir-‘
‘All of us have been treated like bastards,’ Ryan said, ‘and none of us deserve that.’
She sat on the couch, and stared at her fingers. ‘I love this.’
‘Newbie?’ Curt asked as they sat either side of her.
She looked up at Ryan. ‘You going to dad!face at him as well.’
‘I’m not sure I can help myself.’
She nodded. ‘Ok, let’s see if I can work this out. You’re my dad. You’re now his dad. He’s my older brother, and I’m mothering him. Best. Family. Ever.’
‘Your mind works in disturbing ways, newbie.’
‘Yeah, but you love me.’
‘I do-’
‘I didn’t mean to go psycho at Clarke.’
Ryan looked down at her. ‘Your anger was warranted.’
‘Yeah, but he’ll crucify me in my next evaluation.’
‘I think that-‘ Ryan began.
‘Saving the world isn’t a blank cheque forever, you know,’ she said. ‘They’re going to want me to keep to some standards of agentyness, and I don’t think accosting a fellow agent on his downtime is being the bestest little narc.’
‘I’ve had worse spats with Taylor over mandatory reporting requirements, you’re fine.’
‘I- He- James gets to- I guess I don’t deserve better. I didn’t mean to be self-centred. I’m sorry. I should have expected that-’
‘You’re free from him,’ Ryan said, ‘that’s the victory, it isn’t much of one, but at least he can’t hurt you again.’
‘I still want to talk to him. There’s things I need to know.’ She looked to each of them. ‘And I really wouldn’t mind an escort this time.’
Ryan nodded. ‘We’ll have to wait until eight, but we’ll come with you.’ He smiled. ‘Try and get some rest until then.’
‘Like I could,’ she said.
‘I could,’ Curt said as he leaned against her. ‘That or I have to go to the Parkers for some stimulants.’
‘Oh, fine,’ she said. She looked across at Ryan. ‘We’ll be back.’
He nodded.
She put a hand on Curt’s hand, and shifted them back to his room.
‘I’m not sleepy,’ she said as his suit disappeared, replaced by his boxers and t-shirt.
‘Bed. In. I don’t care if you play WoW in your HUD.’
‘Jonesy refuses to make that possible.’
‘Good man,’ Curt mumbled as he pulled the blanket up over them. He kissed her on the cheek. ‘You don’t have to sleep, but rest, or plan out what you’re going to say to him. If he’s going to the Liars, you’re probably never going to get to see him again. Which is good, but if you’ve got things to ask him, it could be your last chance.’ He kissed her cheek, turned away, and began to snore a few moments later.
She pressed her back up against him, pulled the blanket up to her chin and sank into her HUD. The world disappeared, other than the sensation of being pressed up against the boy who wanted her. Good feeling. Warm feeling. Better than the rage. Better than the desire to fuck duty and shoot the bastard. No mirror, no second chance.
She opened her HUD browser, and clicked on one of her lists – fifty tabs of content immediately loaded. More than enough to keep her mind busy, keep her distracted from wanting to kill the bastard.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.
She hadn’t earned the right to be an agent – she was barely a passable recruit, but still, she was trying. Trying as hard as she could, which wasn’t very hard, but was still harder than she’d tried for anything in her life. Everything else was always the path of least resistance. Don’t achieve, don’t try, don’t want for a better situation.
School had been a trial of survival, nothing more. It had been an unavoidable challenge, and one she’d barely passed intact.
Life on the other hand, was much easier, because no one had ever expected anything of her. Pay the rent, set up automatic deductions for the utilities, and eat enough to stop her stomach from revolting. Hack the various email and social media accounts for hateful teenagers to have some sort of income – but that was really an incidental percentage of her week. There was no challenge when she could crack most accounts in five minutes.
Path of least resistance. Don’t have any goals. Don’t try to achieve anything. Life lessons that her father had taught her. Life lessons that had stuck and sunk deep into her soul.
She was shit. She was shit and she was never going to achieve anything.
She pulled herself from her HUD and sat up. She slowly turned her head and made sure she hadn’t disturbed Curt, then shifted away.
‘Couldn’t sleep?’ Ryan asked as he shifted in beside her.
She held out her arms, zombie-style. ‘I sleep-shifted?’
‘Why’d you come here?’ he asked.
She looked down at her precarious position on top of the fence, and slowly sat on the white stone. ‘It’s on my mind, I guess.’ He sat beside her. ‘And I always wanted to get up here, but I was always too chickenshit to try.’ She looked across at the darkened mansion. ‘I lived here for the first half of my life, but it never felt like home.’
‘It takes more than four walls to make somewhere into a home,’ He said as he pulled his jacket off and wrapped it around her.
‘How could he not notice?’
‘There was a lovely string quartet,’ Ryan as he put an arm around her. ‘And I’m sure-‘
‘I died, and he didn’t notice. You killed a Solstice in the nursery and he didn’t notice. You followed me into Death’s realm and he didn’t notice.’
He gave her a guilty look. ‘I also kidnapped you for ten minutes and no one noticed.’
‘You said you didn’t kidnap me!’
‘I don’t class it as kidnapping when it’s a medical emergency.’
‘But I thought-’
‘If you make it back from Death, you retain a wound, but it’s of a far less magnitude. What had been a mortal wound turned into a flesh wound, and not a severe one at that, but it would have been noticeable if I’d used simple first aid, so I shifted you home and had the Parkers take care of you. They were amused afterwards, treating children isn’t something they’ve done all that often.’
She leaned into him. ‘Why didn’t you just keep me?’
‘If I could go back and do it over again, I would, but I had no idea of your circumstances.’
‘Come on, if they were that oblivious, someone evil could have kidnapped me, or I could have stuck a fork into a socket or something.’
He kissed the top of her head. ‘Are you advocating the theft of children in the future?’
‘We can always leave them on the Lost’s doorstep.’
‘Oh,’ he said, ‘that reminds me.’
‘Hm?’
‘You’re a celebrity, young lady, you have to designate a charity.’
‘I has to do what now?’
‘There’s a lot you need to catch up on regarding the world’s reaction to surviving. It’s not just the gifts and the gala, there’s a fund in your name – the fairies officially only throw the gala and grant the favour, they then...crowdsource the monetary gifts to be given. There’s a second fund set up for people who don’t want to contribute directly, but will gladly give to your nominated charity. You can nominate the Lost if you like.’
She pulled his jacket over her head. ‘Don’t say stuff like that, it’s scary. I don’t want to know that there’s a save-the-world tip jar. But yeah, I nominate the Lost, totally, do I have to wave a sceptre or something?’
‘No, they’ll ask you at the gala. You’ll need to decide on your guests as well, you can invite as many people as you like, of course, but it’s polite to keep it at a conservative number.’
‘I have to go, don’t I?’
‘That- Yes, you have to go. You deserve to be rewarded for what you did.’
‘It was dumb luck and coincidence that saved the world!’
‘It was dumb luck that the service entrance was open,’ he said as he pointed to the small green gate in the wall. ‘And coincidence that it was a day when your family was occupied.’
‘Yeah, but-’
‘And it was coincidence that I was the agent assigned to go to the mansion. It was potentially a combat mission, I could have passed it to Taylor. And it was dumb luck that hiding in a wardrobe saved your life.’
‘You’re trying to-’
‘Dumb luck and coincidence don’t take away from the end result,’ he said. ‘and your end result was saving over eight billion lives.’
She buried herself back into the coat. ‘I’m not good enough.’
‘Then just think of it as an opportunity to go back to Nonsuch.’
She pulled herself free of the coat, and looked up at his smiling face.
‘I take it that you’ll go?’ he asked.
‘When were you going to tell me?!’
‘Not until I needed to, it was my only trump card.’
‘Okies, okies, we’ll go.’
He stood and helped her to her feet. ‘Still not tired?’
She shook her head.
‘Then we’ll take a dawn patrol, give a couple of our new recruits a break.’
‘K.’
* * *
‘I bought you breakfast.’
Curt looked across at her as she sat on the bed. ‘Shoes!’
She awkwardly angled a socked foot at him. ‘I remember the boarding conditions, captain.’ She pushed a bag at him, she crossed her legs and shook the bag in her hand. ‘Food.’
He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. ‘You actually bought food?’
She picked a croissant from the bag. ‘Dawn patrol. I can’t resist a bakery first thing in the morning. And because I’m so rarely near bakeries this early, I extra really couldn’t resist. There’s lots of stuff. And chocolate mousse.’
‘Mousse is not breakfast, newbie,’ he said as he found a breakfast wrap.
‘Stop being constrained by your linear concepts of breakfast foods.’
‘You disappeared.’
She choked on the croissant.
He stared down at the wrap. ‘And now I can’t make gag reflex jokes without it being weird.’
‘I’m skinny, I’m not bulimic, I don’t choke up on purpose.’
He bit his lip, knuckled his eye, then sighed and chewed on his wrap. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You had to sleep, I don’t mind. I mean, I-’
‘That you couldn’t talk to me.’
‘I didn’t- I-’
‘Newbie.’
‘Trusting you with my life is easy, I don’t value it. The rest- I don’t know how much crap you want to deal with.’
‘All of it, newbie, all the crap, all the issues, all the stupid and frankly frightening misconceptions.’
‘But you shouldn’t have to deal with any of that. It’s not fair- I like you, and just the fact that I exist should be enough to scare you away, but you’re here, and you’re with me, and I-’ her breath hitched, and tears fell onto the croissant. ‘-and I’m not ready to lose this just yet. And the more I dump on you, the quicker you’ll get tired of me. I can-’ her hands shook. ‘I can’t be a real girl. I can’t be a good person. I can’t be- Anything. I can’t be anything for you. But I- It’s still playing pretend, isn’t it? You know me, but- But if I keep some of it locked up. Keep some of the extremes locked down, then maybe I can get a few weeks. Or a month. Or something. You can meet a nice girl at the gala. You helped save the world, that should mean you get girls. Real girls. Not a broken thing. But please let me pretend until you find someone better.’
He stared at her, then moved off the bed.
She gripped the blanket beneath her, stopping her from grabbing him, from begging him not to make her leave, from pointing to the door, and giving her wordless marching orders.
She heard a drawer open, then slid closed.
‘Turn around.’
She stuffed the tear-salted croissant into her mouth, and turned on the spot.
He knelt beside the bed, like the first time he’d kissed her and shook his head. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. ‘You little idiot.’
He placed a little box on her knee, and nodded to it. ‘Go on. And it’s totally not what you’re thinking. Please.’
She lifted the box and opened it.
A small silver thimble sat inside.
She dropped the box, but he caught it as it bounced off her leg.
He pulled the thimble – and the chain it was attached to – from the box, and draped it over his hand. ‘I listen to everything you say, even when I don’t understand you, and I know you more than you might think, and I love you. If you’ll have me, if you want me, then not a damn thing is ever going to pull me away from you. Who the hell is better than you, Stef?’
Her face crumpled more. ‘...everyone?’
‘Not for me.’ He brushed away her tears. ‘I just want you.’
‘But-’
‘No buts.’ He unclasped the necklace. ‘May I?’
She shook her head, and stared down at her hands. ‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Cause- Cause if you- It’s ok for me to take a leap of faith for you, cause I’m not- Scared. Ok, I’m a lot scared but- It’s less of a risk for me cause I don’t have anything to lose. I accept that you’re gonna find a pretty girl, then get married and have babies and follow the stupid life plan. And I don’t mind, I’ll be happy for you, and I will still be your friend, but as real as I want this to be- As much as I want to- As much as I want it- As much as I want you and cuddles and- It can’t last because I am too broken.’
He stood, sat beside her on the bed, and fastened the chain around her neck, catching more than a few hairs as she made no move to help him.
‘Mine,’ he said, and kissed her upper arm through her uniform shirt.
She shook her head. ‘No can has.’
She heard a rustle of pages. ‘Do want.’
She pulled the necklace off and dropped it on the bed. ‘No, you don’t.’
He returned the chain to the box and snapped it shut. ‘I can has?’
‘Sometimes when I’m in the tech department playing games it’s not because I forget, it’s because I’m trying to hide cause whatever I’m supposed to be doing is too hard or too scary.’
‘I know.’
‘I’m scared of this. Of- Not of you but- This.’
‘I know.’
‘I’m crazy and have a voice in my head.’
‘I know.’
‘I have issues about everything ever.’
‘I know.’
‘And you want still want?’
He put a hand over hers. ‘Do want. I can has?’
She gave a little shrug.
An alarm beeped in her HUD. ‘Great,’ she said, ‘it’s time.’ She refreshed her uniform and her skin, taking away all evidence of tears and weak emotions that James could exploit.
[Are you two all right to be shifted?] Ryan asked as he appeared in herHUD.
She looked across at him. ‘Do you still want to come?’
‘Of course I do, newbie,’ he said gently.
She opened the channel. [Sure, go when ready.]
The world blurred and a random Agency corridor appeared. Central, apparently, looked and smelt exactly like Queen Street.
‘That room there,’ Ryan said with a point at room forty-seven.
She looked up at Ryan. [I- I- I can’t. Do it for me, please?]
[Of course.]
She stepped aside so Ryan could knock. They waited a minute, then Ryan knocked again.
‘If you aren’t my taxi,’ came James’ voice, ‘then I’m not interested.’
‘Open the fucking door,’ she snapped.
Curt squeezed her hand for a moment. ‘We’re here,’ he whispered. ‘We’re not going anywhere.’
The door opened. ‘What do you want, Stephanie?’
‘Justice and/or revenge, but I don’t think I’m getting either.’
‘You ignorant little-‘
She pushed on the door and stepped into his room. It was massive compared to a regular recruit room – styled much more like an expensive hotel suite, rather than the nice-but-modest hotel room look of the standard recruit quarters.
Curt and Ryan stood behind her, far enough to let her try and stand on her own, to face down the monster, but close enough for comfort, close enough to prove she wasn’t alone.
Unclench your fists.
Huh?>
Just do it.
She looked down and saw her hands formed into shaking fists. She let out a breath and relaxed her hands as James walked around the room, glaring while quietly dressing, an open travel bag on his bed.
His open wallet sat on the dresser, two pictures visible – one was old, showing him as not much older than she was, his arm around her mother, the other was a print of an ultrasound.
‘Why are you carrying a picture of me?’
‘Don’t be stupid, this isn’t a picture of you.’ He snatched up his wallet and slid it into his pocket. ‘That would have been your younger brother. Your mother was pregnant when you killed her.’
‘I never wanted to do ballet!’
‘That’s because you’re an ungrateful little shit. What do you want, Stephanie? And I will remind you that I’m of the Liars now, you touch me with one of those filthy blue-laden hands, and it’s war between my Court and your precious Agency.’
‘You’re just one life,’ she said, ‘like they’d even notice if I shifted you into an active volcano.’
James glared down at her. ‘Firstly, I doubt that you could name an active volcano off the top of your impaired mind. Second, the bastardised magic that your kind uses is limited by rules that serve to do nothing but choke your abilities. You can’t require me dead, Stephanie, nor could you shift me into a situation where the outcome would be my death.’ He sighed and slipped on his jacket. ‘And don’t make me correct you about your kind again, it bores me, and does nothing but serve to make you look like even more of an idiot.’
‘The maybe I’ll just-‘
‘Empty threats only serve to make you look weaker, Stephanie, and you already look more vulnerable than a misick.’
Her agent-wiki automatically spun and opened the article on the tiny, fuzzy mouse-sized fae.
James’ face could have been used for an arrogant lawyer meme. ‘The Liars have been after me since I qualified as a Kings scholar. I rejected them and that only made them want me more. I’ve done all I can to improve my standing with them without becoming a member of their Court, precisely for a moment like this. It’s a little ahead of my desired schedule, but the Agency payout does make up for it a little.’
She felt shock slide onto her face. ‘What?’
She opened up a copy of his agreement in her HUD and scanned the last few pages - the ones she’d torn before reading.
Bastard. Monster. Kill. Bastard. Monster. Kill. Bastard. Monster. Kill. Bastard. Monster. Kill. Bastard. Monster. Kill. Bastard. Monster. Kill.
Six months worth of pay as a severance package if he was bought out before the end of his two years.
Bastard. Monster. Kill. Bastard. Monster. Kill. Bastard. Monster. Kill. Bastard. Monster. Kill. Bastard. Monster. Kill. Bastard. Monster. Kill.
‘You fucking-!’ she stared.
He grinned a self-satisfied grin. ‘The Agency owns you, so your Agent Clarke tells me, you’re a slave and you will be for the rest of your unnatural life. I, on the other hand, essentially got paid a fantastic sum of money to have the pleasure of watching you die.’
‘Why didn’t you kill me before this?’
‘I-’
‘And don’t you dare cite lack of opportunity,’ she snapped. ‘If you owned me, if you hated me so much, why didn’t you kill me! Why didn’t you throttle me in the cradle?! Why didn’t you sell me to some fae meat market?! If I made you so miserable, then why did I even get to live this long?!’
‘If you’ll shut your mouth, I’ll give you the rather simple answer.’
‘I’m listening,’ she said.
‘So much as I have immunity among the fae, there’s still the problem of human authorities. Many ways of disappearing a child lead to suspicion, and I didn’t want the bad reputation. Once you were old enough to walk and get lost, I simply never received a suitable offer. I suppose I could have gotten a deal if I’d auctioned you at the slave markets, but frankly, I didn’t need the money – I work for money, I trade for power. A lack of an opportune deal is the only thing that kept you alive. Besides, there are many benefits to owning someone.’ He smiled and swirled his coffee. ‘No matter how unattractive you are, you are a sack of compatible organs, and I felt it was worth keeping you alive in case I was ever injured or dying.’
She stared at the floor.
‘I’ve been robbed of the opportunity,’ he said, ‘to see them extract your organs. I would have insisted you were conscious for the procedure, and I would have taken everything all at once. Storage of organs does come with a price tag, but it would have been cheaper than boarding you in a meat market kennel, and the merchandise would have been kept in better condition.’
‘So I guess I wasn’t completely worthless,’ she spat.
‘Your worth is only thanks to my DNA, you yourself are still inherently worthless.’
‘…I saved the world.’
He smiled at this. ‘Actually, Stephanie, I really should thank you for that. Mimosa, the name of the one that saved the world, do you have any idea what that’s done for my reputation? Even in the few days I’ve been here among your kind, I’ve been treated to more free drinks than any other single week of my life.’
‘And you conveniently forget to tell them that you murdered me?!’
‘They don’t ask.’ He took a step closer. ‘I wish I’d known though, a hunk of mirror would have come in handy.’
She backed away from him. ‘Even if you owned me, the Agency owns the mirror, you never would have-’
‘Did you feel it?’ he asked. ‘When I shot you, did you feel it?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I didn’t.’ She felt a weight disappear from her shoulders as she said the words.
She stared at James, and smiled.
‘What?’ he demanded.
‘I didn’t feel it when you killed me, and it was probably the least traumatic of my deaths.’
‘I’m-’
‘You tormented me my entire life,’ she said. ‘You ridiculed me, you belittled me and you treated me like I was something your valet scrapped off your shoe. You made me doubt myself. You took away my confidence, my worth and my potential. You left me a broken, unloved wreck of a person whose only way of dealing with the world was to hide from it! And because you treated me like some worthless fuckstain, you are here to stand and condescend to me.’ She stood a little straighter. ‘I saved the world! Me! Me and all of my worthlessness are the only reason that there are any living things left on this world! And no, I can’t handle that, and I don’t deserve the adulation, and I still feel like I should apologise, because I’m not good enough to have saved the world, but I still did it! Sometimes losers get lucky, and I got lucky.’
‘Would you please-‘
‘Shut the fuck up, James.’
‘Don’t you dare-‘
‘I told you to shut the fuck up,’ she snapped. ‘There are so many things in life I will never have because of you. So many things I missed out on. So many moments I- But you know what? Because you treated me like a bastard, I got the life I’ve got now.’ She let out a long breath. ‘Thank you.’
‘What-’
She stepped forward. ‘From this moment, I’m going to do my best to forget you, to forget everything you ever said me, and everything you didn’t do for me. I have people who deserve better than the person you made me, and I’m going to do my best for them.’
James looked from her, to Ryan, to Curt, back to her, then laughed. ‘If they can really be pleased by you, then their standards leave a lot to be desired.’
‘We’re bastards,’ she said, ‘we’ve got low standards but they work for us.’
‘Stephanie-‘
‘My name is Stef!’
‘Stephanie, no matter what you do, you’re never going to be good enough.’
‘Maybe, but you’re going to die alone, James. And no one is going to cry for you.’ She looked back to Ryan. [Shift us home, dad.]
The world blurred, and Ryan’s office came into view again.
She hugged herself for a moment, then looked to the two most important people in her life. People who wanted her. People she didn’t want to disappoint. People she wanted things from.
She wanted things. She was allowed to want things. Probably. Hopefully.
She looked to Ryan. Less of a gamble. Better chance of a good outcome. Safer. ‘I- I’m not his anymore. And I never have to think about him again. And I’m free. Do- Do you still want to the job, like, official and stuffs?’
He nodded.
‘Then- Then please proper adopt me. Properdopt me. Please. Even if it’s only Fairyland adoption, since I’m not sure the local Births, Deaths and Marriages office would be cool with someone they have no birth record of adopting someone they do have a death certificate for. You’re my dad, not him, and I want that official and on paper somewhere. You’re responsible for me, and for the good stuff I do through dumb luck and coincidence,’ she said with a smile.
‘I’ve got the paperwork in my desk,’ he said. ‘All I have to do it submit it.’
She hugged him. ‘Thank you. Really. Thank you. I’ll get you the best daddy’s day gifts ever, I promise.’ She paused. ‘And- And- Ok, what’s the plan for today?’
‘We’ve got a phoenix update meeting at twelve, other than that, nothing for the next few days. Light duties at most, so that’s tech department or low-rated patrols, but frankly only if you feel like it, no one is going to force you to do anything for at least the next couple of weeks.’
She gave a nod. ‘Okies then.’ She looked to Curt. ‘I know you’ve got paperwork and the boring normal stuff to deal with, but can I grab you for a minute first?’
Curt looked to Ryan. ‘Can you spare me for a little while, sir?’
Ryan nodded. ‘Of course. I think we were all caught up yesterday, so there’s nothing urgent. Take what time you need.’
She grabbed Curt’s arm and shifted back to his room.
She sat on the bed and pulled him down beside her. She stared at him for three seconds, licked her lips, then kissed him. ‘I want you,’ she said as she put a hand to his chest. ‘I want you.’
He exhaled a long, heavy breath. ‘Context,’ he said as his slid a hand into her hair, ‘context would be really good right now, newbie.’
She kissed him again. ‘You. I want you.’
‘Context is rapidly becoming important, newbie.’
‘Huh?’
He kissed her temple. ‘What do you want?’
‘You.’
He tapped a finger on her lips. ‘You’ve got to use more words than that.’
‘You. Us. This. I want it. If I can has, then I want it.’
‘You can has.’ He took her face in his hands and pulled her close. Longest kiss yet. Six seconds of contact. ‘So you’re over thinking that I’m going to ditch you?’
‘You still can if you want.’
‘If I kiss you every time you say something stupid, my lips are going to get very tired, very quickly.’
‘I don’t want to trap you.’
‘How about you trust me to make my own decisions?’ he said. ‘How about you wait until I say that I want to leave? Can you do that?’
‘Maybe.’
‘What changed your mind?’
She pulled her legs up and sat cross-legged. ‘James.’ She splayed her fingers across her knees. ‘I know I can’t blame him for everything. I know. It sucks but I know. It would be too easy. Even if I’d had the perfect dad growing up, I still might be…me. I know I can’t blame him for everything, but I know I can blame him for a lot. I know I’d be a lot better if it wasn’t for him, maybe not perfect, but better. I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t be afraid of love. Of this. I wouldn’t be expecting you to be rejecting me. I’m just- I don’t want to be- I’ve never wanted anything for myself, not really. Cause I didn’t deserve to want anything. Cause I’m not good enough to get anything.’
‘Come on, you know that’s bull.’
She gave a one-shouldered shrug. ‘I don’t know anything. But I know that James is- That I need to prove him wrong. I- I- I- I get to figure out for myself if I’m worthless or if I’m useless, I don’t have to listen to him anymore. I don’t have to rely on his opinion. It’s my life and I get to fuck it up however I want. And I also get- I also get to want things.’
‘And number one on your list is me?’ he asked with a smirk.
‘I want to,’ she said. ‘I want- I want all those stupid little nice moments that I thought I’d never get. I want you to hold my hand cause you’re bored and it’s nice, or to get a kiss while we’re waiting for the lift or the green light. I want to want all that. And to- If I want much more it’s going to turn into one of those stupid princess songs.’
She pulled him close enough to whisper in his ear. ‘I want to grow up. Just- Just a tiny bit. Just a little bit. And I’m scared of thinking that, but if I whisper it, then it’s not like I’m really saying it, and you can pretend I didn’t say it.’
He bought his mouth to her ear. ‘It’ll be our secret.’
He pulled away, grabbed the little box and pulled out the necklace again. ‘Want to try this again?’
‘I ruined that too,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have, but I did. First time I get a present from a boy and I ruin it.’
‘You didn’t ruin it.’
‘I did.’
‘Ok, but it’s not your first present, I’ve bought you stuff before.’
‘But that was at a different point in the timeline! It was before we jumped into romantic, so it’s a different first.’
He unclasped the necklace again. ‘Newbie, shut up.’
‘I-‘
‘What?’
‘Not a thimble. I don’t want a thimble. If- If I want to grow up, then I have to let go of Peter. And thimbles.’
‘You don’t- I’m not trying to make you give up anything.’
She shook her head and wiped away tears. ‘You’re not, and that’s not what I’m- That’s not what I mean. I’m not trying to give up anything I don’t want to. Peter went to Neverland, and I think- I think that’s part of why I didn’t want to grow up. This- This is one of the- I can let him go, I can let that go. If you- I know it’s a present and I’m not supposed to argue, I’m just supposed to shut up and take it-‘
‘Never just shut up and take it,’ he said. The thimble disappeared from the chain. ‘What do you want instead?’
‘Something’s that’s us.’
Charms appeared and disappeared on the chain – a cookie, a gun, their initials entwined, then it went back to a bare chain. He wrapped the chain around his fingers, a look of concentration on his face, then smiled. A star appeared, a small silver replica of the head of the magic wand. ‘There. And that was your first present, not this, so you didn’t ruin anything.’
‘We weren’t a couple then.’
‘I liked you, even if I didn’t know I did. I didn’t just pick random gift shop crap, I got you the wand cause I knew how much of a kick you would get out of it, and I like that, you sort of…light up, and not in a radioactive way,’ he said with a smirk. He held up the necklace. ‘May I?’
She stood, bowed her head, and pulled her hair away from her neck.
He stood, draped the chain around her neck and fastened it. His hands stayed on her shoulders, and then he leaned closer to kiss the back of her neck. ‘Do you like this?’ he asked after a few quick pecks.
‘It’s warm,’ she said as he wrapped his arms around her. ‘It tickles.’
‘If you don’t like it-‘ he started.
‘I like it.’
He laid a few more kisses against her skin, then let her go. ‘Want to help me and your dad with paperwork, or do you want time off to play videogames?’
She pouted. ‘Can’t I do both?’
He spun her to look at him and smiled. ‘Newbie, I have absolute faith that you can.’
Three Days Later
‘I still don’t believe I’m getting a gorram gala,’ Stef said.
‘You’d better get used to it, newbie,’ Curt said, ‘cause you can’t really back out of it.’
‘I know, I know, but still…’ She lifted a small box and ripped the plain brown wrapping off. ‘What’s a nymph-in-a-box?’ she asked as she went to pry the cardboard box open.
The box was pulled from her hand.
She looked up at Curt, then at the spot on the far side of the room where he’d been. ‘…did you just shift over here?’
‘Picard manoeuvre,’ he countered as he placed the box into the “to be regifted” pile. ‘I guess Next Gen is good for some things.’
‘So what’s a-‘
‘Do you really want to know?’
‘Do I?’
He mumbled something about a flashlight to himself, then looked up and shook his head. ‘No, you don’t.’
‘It’s not literally a nymph is it?’
‘Out of all the stuff you’ve received, I don’t think you actually got a slave. A few offers of indentured servitude, but you don’t have to accept them.’
‘People want to be my slave?’
‘Newbie, I think you’ve gotten every single thing it’s possible to get. You got marriage proposals, you got servitude proposals, you got offers of people wanting you indentured, job offers, people wanting you to star in ads and promotions, and that’s just out of what I’ve seen so far. You’re not being Courted, but I think the Lost might have staked a claim on you, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you get a few whispers in your ear at the gala, most of the major Courts should be there, and more than a few of the minor ones.’
She stared at the crown’s wooden box in the centre of the large conference table. ‘I should give out the invites soon, shouldn’t I?’
‘There’s only a week and a half left, so, yeah, probably. Who you going to invite?’
She shrugged.
He stared at her. ‘You already know, you’re just being you.’ He opened the envelope beside the box and pulled out the gold-foiled invitations. ‘They included a dozen, but you can request more if you want.’
‘Do I even know a dozen people?’
He slid into the chair across from her and a notebook and pen appeared in his hand. ‘Come on.’
‘Do I need an invite?’
‘There’s a complete disconnect between genius and smart, isn’t there?’
She kicked him under the table. ‘Shut up.’
‘No, guest of honour, you don’t need an invitation. List.’
‘Jonesy already said he doesn’t want to go. Can’t blame him. Ok. People who are coming. Ok, you, obviously. If you want to suffer through this.’
‘Do you want me to wear a tux?’
‘I don’t care what you wear.’
‘Oh,’ he said, ‘that reminds me.’ He stood, went back to his sorting pile and retrieved a thick envelope. ‘Yours if you want.’
She opened it, shirked, and shifted into the corner.
‘That’s a no, then?’ he asked.
She shifted back into her chair. She stared down at the gifting of a newly designed dress. ‘I don’t need a dress.’
‘As little as I know, this guy is a name, so it’s a pretty nice offer.’
‘Can you imagine me in something like this?’ she asked as she flicked through the included brochure. ‘I mean, seriously.’
‘Fine, toss it in the regift pile.’
She spun the brochure in her hands for a moment. ‘Obviously I’m inviting those three. May as well get this over with.’ She picked up three invites, stuffed the brochure back into the envelope. ‘Brb.’
Heat pricked at her neck as she stood in front of Taylor’s office. Combat floor, somewhere she didn’t belong. Urges to run, escape and/or flee flooded her body. The flight part of fight or flight instincts were hard to fight when you could shift halfway around the world in a second. She wiped a sweaty hand on her pants and raised it to knock.
She bit back a yelp as the door opened.
The volcano stood, but didn’t explode. Taylor gave her the most neutral expression he’d ever given her, and gave a small grunt.
‘Um?’ she said, and lifted her hands, showing the tickets and the envelope with the future free dress in it.
He stepped to the side, giving her enough room to potentially walk into his office. But that was a mistake. Obviously. She’d never been in his office, he’d-
He stepped back and grunted again.
She walked, stiff-legged into his office, four different emergency shifts prepped and ready to go in her HUD.
‘Um?’ she said again as Magnolia spun on her chair to look at her. She walked across to the desk and laid the golden-ish tickets down. ‘Gala. If you want to. Don’t have to. You guys helped. So you should. It wasn’t just me. There should be free food. I think.’ She put a finger onto the third ticket. ‘And that’s for Grigori. Tell him he still owes me a fuzzy hat.’ She clutched the envelope, then dropped it on the desk in front of Magnolia. ‘You’re pretty. And this is a dress. Well, no it’s an envelope, but it’s got a free dress inside. Voucher. I don’t need it. I don’t want it, and you’re pretty, and you like this kind of stuff, and it’s free, so you should, if you want to.’
Magnolia opened the envelope, and froze as she read the details.
‘Sorry?’ she said, afraid of the magpie’s wrath.
‘Do you even know who this is?’ Magnolia asked, her voice close neutral to the point of a /serious.
‘No?’
‘Arshan Yo,’ Magnolia said as she smoothed the letter out, and laid it on the desk. ‘Arshan. Yo. You don’t know who that is?’
She took a step back. ‘Sorry? I mean you can- I can give it to someone else if-‘
‘No!’
She curled her toes in her shoes. ‘I don’t- Is it good or bad?’
Magnolia sighed. ‘It’s good, Mimosa, it’s exceedingly good.’
‘Okies, um, yay, I suppose. That’s all,’ she said, and shifted back to the new outpost’s main conference room.
‘Where’d you go?’ Curt asked as he dumped a new box of letters onto the table.
‘To invite Mags and Taylor and Grigori,’ she said, ‘Mags got a little weird about the dress thing though, but I think it was good.’
‘You grew up rich, right?’
She nodded.
‘And there are those designers that rich people go after, right? That the not-rich people shouldn’t dare to dream about wearing?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah, he’s one of those guys.’ He waved his phone, and she saw the Fairyland version of Wikipedia there. ‘He does normal collections still, but only designs a couple of unique pieces a year, and he’s getting old, like, real old, so each new design could be his last. You just gave Mags a piece of fashion history.’
‘So maybe it’ll make the truce with Taylor a little stronger?’
‘I’m frankly surprised she didn’t start making out with you,’ he said.
She shrugged. ‘Ok, that’s three invites gone. Plus you. Four. Ryan makes five.’
‘Does he want a plus one?’
‘Who would he bring?’
‘It would be polite to ask.’
She rolled her eyes.
[Do you want a plus one to the gala?] she asked as she pinged Ryan.
The channel opened, and he looked thoughtful for a moment. [If you wouldn’t mind.]
[I’ve got a bunch of tickets I have no idea what to do with, so of course it’s fine.] She lifted two tickets and shifted them to him. [There you go.]
[Thank you.]
She closed the channel and stared at the remaining tickets. ‘Do you have anyone else you want to invite?’
‘Ok, let’s see, my best friend, my girlfriend and my cute co-worker have all been invited, so I think I’m good.’
‘So you’re glad I gave the dress token to Mags then?’
‘Huh- Oh, come on, I meant you.’
‘You think I’m cute?’
He kissed her cheek. ‘Yeah, I do.’
She blushed, and he kissed her again.
She lifted the rest of the tickets and stared into her HUD. [I’m sending you the spares as well, okies?]
Ryan smiled. [I’ll do my best with them.]
She closed the channel again. ‘Okies, let’s get back to the presents, I want to get as much done as possible today.’
He waved a small pile of letters at her. ‘These are just some of the ones that have vouchers or lifetime memberships to places like Carmichael’s, what to you want to do with these?’
‘Toss them in the regifting pile?’
‘They’re a very strange sort of thing to regift.’
She stared at him. ‘You- You could-’ she mumbled.
‘Hm?’
‘You could use them if you wanted. I mean, I- I can’t for you- So- So these would-‘
‘No, newbie.’
‘But-‘
‘No buts.’
She pointed at the vouchers. ‘Actually, from what I understand, lots of butts!’
He smirked. ‘I’ve got you and that’s enough. Really.’
‘But-‘
‘End of discussion, newbie, I’m not cheating on you.’
‘It’s not cheating if I let you.’
‘It would feel like cheating, and that’s what matters.’
‘But-‘
‘Newbie.’
She slouched in her chair. ‘Fine.’
* * *
Four hours later.
‘Are we dooooooone yet?’
‘Not yet, newbie.’
She spun on her chair. ‘I’d really almost rather be doing work.’
‘We could take a patrol if you like.’
‘I said almost!’
He stood, stretched his arms over his head, then then a hand down to her. ‘Come on, it’ll be good to-‘
She screamed.
‘Ok, fine we-‘
She screamed again, and felt her skin burning.
‘Get back!’
She stumbled back as her skin began to bubble.
Gods, gods, gods, gods-
FOCUS.
She tasted blood, but gathered her thoughts.
Shift: phoenix egg.
The world blurred – almost seeming to melt, then became clear.
The small room they’d assigned to the egg was melting.
[Newbie? Newbie?!]
Her sneakers melted to the floor, sticking her to the spot. She bit her lips, stepped out of the shoes and into the flames.
[Keep out,] she broadcasted, then threw herself on the cracking egg.
‘Shhh,’ she whispered as the phoenix peeked out. ‘Shhh, it’s okies, it’s okies.’
[Stef?]
[I love you.]
Skin bubbled, and hair burned, but she stayed alive.
[What’s going on?]
[Please just-]
It crawled out of the egg, and into her arms. Afterthoughts of hunger hit her mind.
[Stef?]
[It’s ok, I think it’s ok. Just give me a minute, okies?]
‘I know, I know, shhh, shhh.’
The flames slowly subsided, and she slid into the least decimated corner of the room, the warm, soft firebird in her arms.
She pulled her vest open, and offered her chest to the phoenix.
Its beak scratched against her chest and she tried to quiet her mind.
It broke through the skin and tapped against her heart.
Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain.
It shrieked, and she cried.
Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain.
It walked up her arm, rubbed its face against hers for a moment, then jumped back up onto the table and crawled into its egg. The egg glowed as it crawled back inside, and the cracks disappeared.
[Newbie?]
[I’m fine. I’m fine. Finish up with that room, then go home, I need the tank, but then I need a nap, okies?]
[I’ll be waiting for you.]
She stood on burnt feet, and pushed open the door to the small room.
The sound of the Agency’s emergency alarms pounded against her ears.
‘Owie, turn that off…’
‘Stef!’
Ryan’s voice.
She turned, and was grateful as she was lifted off her painful feet.
‘What happened?’
‘Baby was hungry,’ she said, ‘and the room’s a bit melted, and I’m a bit burny, but that’s it, no biggy.’
He shifted them, took a few steps, then she felt the refreshing touch of blue against her skin as she was slid into a tech tank. She splashed in the liquid, then submerged herself, and let herself fall to the bottom of the shallow tank.
[Are you all right?]
She pushed herself to the side of the tank and looked through the blue to see Ryan crouching down to her level.
[Been through a lot worse, dad. It wasn’t trying to hurt me, it just woke up hungry.]
[But- Your heart-]
[My heart’s better than it ever has been in my life. The hunk of mirror in my chest, well- Well, there’s still plenty for it to nom on.]
[Stef.]
She blew bubbles in the blue. [What?]
His worried face stared at her. [What if we don’t-]
[Like not finding the other one is even an option!] she said. [At least half the city is still blacked out, and that’s if the blackout doesn’t collapse back in on the areas we’ve cleared. Think of how powerful mirror is, how much can one stupid little life need?]
[I don’t want to have to find out the answer to that question.]
[Then we just have to do our jobs and find the blue phoenix,] she said, [which we were kind of planning on doing anyway.] She pushed herself up through the blue, took a breath of air and hung herself over the side of the tank. ‘Have they admitted to having it yet?’
‘Officially,’ Ryan said, ‘no. And we have very few sources in their organisation. It might be hard to get people into the Solstice, but at least numbers aren’t a problem. Blue Earth on the other hand, their numbers are so low that it’s so much harder to get into their inner circles. We observe all the meetings we can, but those are-’ He paused. ‘They’re unimportant, little more than weekly services about their goals and magic in general.’
‘Stupid question?’
‘Have we tried crashing the meetings, tell them what the phoenix will do?’
He nodded. ‘That’s the only reason we have the information that we do. But their organisation is so…unorganised that it’s hard to get this information to people that matter. We don’t know if or when they intend to harm it and we don’t know if they believe us. We’ve got people working on it, so for the moment, we’re stuck playing the waiting game.’
‘And all the drones-slash-birds?’
‘They’re narrowing down the locations, but nothing yet.’
She raised her arms, and he lifted her from the tank. ‘So, we’ve just established that we’re doing everything we can, right? And that there’s nothing we can do to hasten finding the other phoenix?’
‘Yes?’
‘So stop worrying about my heart. If there’s nothing we can do, there’s nothing we can do. I feel fine. I do. And as little as this world conforms to magic tropes, I think I’d know if I was about to run out of mirror. I hope I would anyway. I’ve lost so much without side effects already, so I think I’ll be fine for a while yet. It didn’t nom that much this time anyway.’
‘And if the next time-‘
‘I could walk out of the building and get eaten by a demon. I could take a wrong turn in fairyland and end up with my wings for sale. The Solstice could decide to nuke us. Right now, in this moment, I’m fine, and that’s all I give a shit about. And if you agree, give me a cookie.’
‘I don’t agree, do you want a cookie anyway?’
‘But speechifying is supposed to make people agree with you…’
‘Sorry.’ He handed her a cookie. ‘I care about your future. I don’t want-‘
‘I don’t want to die either, dad, I don’t. But- And I’m going to do everything I can not to, but I’m also going to do what I can to keep the world turning, cause it’s got my stuff and my friends in it.’
‘I’m proud of you.’
She licked blue off her hand and nommed on the cookie. ‘I know.’ She looked down at herself and required her skin clean. ‘I’m gonna go take a nap, okies?’
‘Of course.’
She gave him a hug, then shifted.
She saw the bed, let herself fall forward, and everything went black.
She smelt coffee.
‘Cooooffffffffff-‘
‘Hey newbie.’
She opened her eyes and saw Curt’s face above her own. ‘Hey.’
‘Figured you would want to wake up for dinner.’
‘What time is it?’
‘Seven.’
She sat up. ‘At least tell me it’s the same day.’
He nodded, and handed her the coffee. ‘You were only out for a few hours. Ryan’s gone to get dinner, so if you want to wake up a bit, then we’ll go eat.’
She gulped down half of the coffee. ‘Sorry. I just sort of- I just sort of came here, I should have asked if-‘
He kissed her cheek. ‘Shut up. And I’ve been wanting to have this conversation anyway.’
‘Which conversation? Is- Are we- Did I break a rule?’ She gripped her coffee tighter. ‘The breaking up conversation, or the sex conversation? Is there some sort of “I sleep in your bed without asking so you get to sleep in me without asking” thing?’
‘Put that on the list of moments where you’ve genuinely frightened me,’ he said. ‘Your mind is really fucking disturbing, newbie.’
‘I know. Still. Is there such a-‘
‘Of course there’s not!’
‘So which conversation did you-‘
‘If you wanted to officially move in with me!’ he snapped. ‘Sorry. Sorry.’ He hung his head. ‘Sorry. You just- When you say stuff like that it really worries me.’
‘I told you, I still don’t- I don’t know what I’m doing. Or how these things work.’
He kissed her temple. ‘I know, but start with the assumption that I’m not a bad guy and go from there, ok?’
‘Move in?’
‘You’re here all the time anyway, but you still act like it’s just my room. So. Yeah. Make it official?’
‘Is this how normal relationships go?’
He nodded. ‘Pretty much, yeah. Generally you start with a drawer of stuff at your partner’s place, but I think we can safely skip that step.’
‘Okies.’ She required away the coffee in her hands, and hugged him. ‘Okies.’
Arshan Yo.
Arshan. Fucking. Yo.
Magnolia fidgeted with her dress while they waited for the limousine. It wasn’t late, they were early. Even if it wasn’t a combat situation, it paid to be early. The dress was simple, something she’d copied, not something she’d put together herself. Plain, short, no frills or lace or other frivolities. Nothing to make it look as though she’d tried to be a designer. In the face of Yo, pretending to be a designer would be tantamount to blasphemy.
Arshan Yo.
Arshan. Fucking. Yo.
Part of her hoped for a sudden emergency, an attack on the blue phoenix, a tactical nuke deployed against an Agency – not theirs of course, maybe Sydney, just something drastic enough to put them back on duty.
Arshan Yo.
Arshan. Fucking. Yo.
She pulled on the hem of her dress again.
‘You’re nervous,’ Taylor rumbled.
She leaned back against him. A rock. A hard place. An anchor so she stopped acting like a nervous child on the first day at a new school. ‘Excited, sir.’
One of his hands slid up her back to rub at her shoulder. ‘Nervous, recruit. Don’t argue with me.’
‘Yes sir.’
His other hand went to her shoulders. ‘Why?’
‘Weakness, sir.’
‘Magnolia,’ he growled.
‘His designs are amazing,’ she said. ‘Inspired. Magical. I did a stint at a sexporium as a greeter, and what I was given to wear was a knockoff of one of his designs. I thought it was gorgeous, even though it was just some cheap, badly-handled replica. In between customers, I used to browse his site, and just fell in love with what he did with clothes.’ She felt her cheeks flush. ‘Sorry, sir.’
‘Don’t apologise.’ His arms wrapped around her. ‘I like the way you look.’
‘I could require exact replicas of his collections, but I didn’t want to. I don’t mind copying anything else, but I didn’t want another fake. Wanted to wait until I could afford a piece for real. Being a recruit got in the way of that, other things became more important. I’ve wanted any mass-produced piece, but instead I get something designed for me. Consider me overwhelmed.’
The limousine appeared at the top of the next hill.
‘He’s almost two hundred,’ she said, ‘every new piece he creates could be his last. My piece could be the swansong in his collection.’
The limousine pulled to a silent stop in front of them, and the driver stepped out to open the doors for them.
She stepped into the car, and found a fairy woman in a flat black suit smiling at her. ‘Utsa, Utsa Adaine,’ the woman said as she extended a hand, ‘we spoke on the phone.’
She smiled at the gorgeous fairy woman as she settled onto one of the wide seats. ‘Of course.’
Taylor moved in beside her and the door was closed, locking them in the roomy, air-conditioned compartment.
‘Consider me his advance assistant,’ Utsa said. ‘May I?’ she asked as she held up a scanner. ‘I took your measurements on the phone, I know, but we measure seven times before we cut once.’
She leaned forward, and let herself be bathed in the light of the small scanner. After a moment, Utsa smiled, and tapped a few things onto the tablet computer in her lap.
The limousine pulled away from the curb, and Utsa opened a flat glass panel to reveal a small bar. She removed a small bottle and two glasses. ‘Unicorn,’ she said as she set the glasses onto the small table between them. ‘There’s other options if you want, but I’ve been informed it’s a very good year. Mister Yo killed the beast himself, and the bottles only go to those he creates unique pieces for.’
She gave a small nod, and the Utsa poured the bottle evenly between the two glasses.
Taylor lifted the glasses, and handed one to her.
‘It’s also my pleasure to inform you that for the duration of your visit, I’m free for use by the both of you.’ She smiled, then looked to Taylor. ‘The design and fitting process can be rather lengthy, Agent. If I’m not suitable, then-‘
‘Won’t be necessary,’ Taylor said.
‘As you say, sir,’ Utsa said. She looked back to her tablet computer. ‘On the phone, you gave your preferences as black and white, has that changed?’
She shook her head.
‘Mister Yo has several preliminary designs already, ma’am, but he’ll work with you to create whatever you want.’
She smiled. ‘I’d be happy with one of his morri sets,’ she said, ‘Whatever he designs will be fine.’
Taylor rumbled beside her, and she looked up to see the question on his face.
‘A morri set, sir,’ she said. ‘The traditional set is a ring and a bag, though there’s been a trend of allowing the ring’s jewel to be set into any piece of jewellery. They’re generally limited edition sets-’ She paused, not wanting to overwhelm him with the complexities of it. ‘The jewels use a number of techniques, but essentially they capture the mood of a season, a person or an event. For example, using a morri set from summer fifteen years ago will allow you to experience the mood of that season. With people, it’s generally done to celebrate the passing of an accomplished actor or political figure. The cheaper ones are more general, or use simple imagery within the jewels in the ring in the bag, rather than the full but limited sensory manipulation of Yo’s sets, and of designers like him.’
Taylor leaned back against the plush chair, a thoughtful look on his face. After a moment, he looked back to her. ‘Combat applications?’
‘I can look into it, sir,’ she said with a smile.
Utsa removed a silver-set amber jewel from around her neck and passed it across. ‘This is one,’ the fairy said as she offered it. ‘This is one never available to the public, it’s a reward for twenty years’ service from Mister Yo.’
She took another look at the fairy. ‘You don’t look old enough to have earned it.’
‘I’m not,’ Utsa said, ‘it was my mother’s, she worked for Mister Yo for her whole life, she passed this to me after she retired, and I have his blessing to wear it. I do look forward to earning my own though.’
She took the jewel from the fairy, and felt the need to work on her schedules until sunset.
‘It’s a captured memory from the opening of his first store, back when he was no one, a franchisee of mass-produced goods.’
She held onto the jewel for a moment, then passed it to Taylor. He lifted the jewel to his brown eyes, stared into it, then handed it back to the fairy. He looked back to her. ‘Combat applications,’ he said again, almost smiling this time.
Utsa put the jewel back in place, and looked to her tablet. ‘Mister Yo was disappointed that it wasn’t Agent Mimosa herself that took up the offer.’
‘Mimosa’s not- Not the most fashion-conscious of beings. I do honestly expect her to attend in her uniform. Hopefully a clean one, but I would hedge my bets.’
‘You must be very close though,’ Utsa said, ‘if she gave this opportunity to you.’
She shook her head. ‘No, not really. We’re not even friends.’
Utsa gave her a curious look, then covered it with professional disinterest. ‘You’ll have your initial discussion with Mister Yo, then we’ve booked you in for lunch, then you’ll return for another fitting and any final notes, then we’ll be done for the day. There’s a hotel booking should you wish to stay the night, else this car will take you to the stairs of your choice.’
She looked to Taylor, imagined the gratis hotel room, and the new space to explore and fuck in. A night free of any possible interruptions from the Agency, a night just to spend by themselves. She smiled at the selfish, sexy thoughts, buried them under duty, then looked back to the fairy. ‘I would imagine we’ll need a car.’
The hour’s drive into the city was quiet, but comfortable. Utsa asked more questions, and she was glad to answer – as the fairy woman answered all of her questions about Yo in return.
The limousine pulled into a parking garage of a slick-looking complex, and they travelled up to the thirtieth floor in an open glass box of an elevator.
The doors to Yo’s studio were sleek black pieces of glass, with his signature engraved in gold on each of them. She held her breath, and felt her heart skip a beat as Utsa pushed the doors wide.
Arshan Yo stood there, and she almost curtseyed. He wore a suit of his own design – lines cleaner and finer than anything required by the Agency.
He stepped forward, lifted her hand and kissed it. ‘You’re right on time, welcome Miss Magnolia, welcome Agent Taylor.’
A fairy in a purple dress brought champagne, and Yo raised his glass in a toast. ‘To still being alive,’ he said with a smile. ‘Let’s get started then, shall we?’ Yo looked to his tablet computer. ‘Question first. How large is Mimosa’s head? Since it’s you I’m fitting, they never supplied me with her measurements.’
Taylor lifted his hands and held them at what she was sure were the correct measurements for Mimosa’s bulbous head.
Yo stared for a minute, then waved Taylor under a spotlight near a mirror, where a rough holographic sphere appeared. ‘If you wouldn’t mind, agent?’
Taylor gave a grunt and shaped the light between his hands until it was accurate, his thumbs seeming to almost unconsciously drive in where her eye sockets would be. She smiled – the experiment’s stress tests had come in handy for once.
He gave an affirmative grunt to the fairy. ‘This is accurate.’
The fairy looked to the tablet, then back up to the floating ball of light. ‘Are you sure? It seems-‘
Taylor gave another grunt. ‘It’s disproportionate to her body.’
‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Yo said. ‘I’ve designed a mask for her, do you know if any others have sent in masks?’
She shook her head. ‘I haven’t been keeping track of her gifts.’
Yo stared at her for a moment. ‘The mask is central to the night though, I’d have thought as her friend-‘
‘I’m not her friend.’ The sound seemed to seep out of the room with the confession. ‘We barely have a relationship at all, and the one we do have is-‘ She searched for an accurate word. ‘Antagonistic.’
Yo sipped from a small glass. ‘Go on.’
‘That’s all. I honestly think she may have given me this opportunity because I’m the only person she knows who wears a dress.’
The fairy smiled. ‘Fifty years ago, I think I would have been insulted. Now I’m just amused. Do you know who I am, at least?’
‘I do. I’ve been a fan since the last Dawning June collection.’
‘That collection was trite and derivate of my earlier work,’ he said, stabbing his finger at the tablet.
Her heart sank into her boots. If it had been a combat situation, it would have called for a tactical retreat. Social situations, however, didn’t allow for such decisive movements.
Yo looked up and smiled. ‘It was also my favourite of the June collections.’ He looked to Taylor. ‘Have a seat, agent, this will take a while. Has Utsa already made herself available?’
Taylor gave an affirmative grunt.
‘Utsa, take him to the guest longue.’
Taylor looked at her, gave her a slight nod, then allowed the fairy woman to lead him away.
Yo crooked an arm to her. ‘This way. And what do your friends call you, Magnolia?’
‘Magnolia’s fine,’ she said.
‘Never Noli?’ he asked. ‘Good name, a bit boyish for you though. Lia? Li?’
‘Maggie as a child,’ she said as he closed the door to a large, well-lit room. ‘But I well and truly outgrew it.’
‘Very well. Off with your clothes, Magnolia,’ Yo said.
She stripped off her dress, and hung it on a hanger, leaving only her chemise between her and the world, then sat on one of the red chaise longues and began to unlace her knee-high boots.
He opened a wall panel and pulled out a rack of a dozen black and white dresses.
She stared, her boot laces forgotten for a moment. ‘Are those-‘
‘Just prototypes,’ he said, ‘I only had a photo and measurements to go on.’
He handed her the first one – a simple, primarily black dress with a trail of delicate feather designs spilling down the back. ‘I feel like I owe you an apology,’ she said as she stepped into the dress. ‘As much as I want this, I’m all too aware I wasn’t your first choice.’
‘Everyone is courting the girl who saved the world,’ he said, ‘I knew I had no guarantee of her even seeing my gift, I should imagine your Agency is inundated,’ he said as he buttoned up the back of the dress. ‘Having a design go to her gala is just as good, and it’s nice to work with someone who appreciates my work.’ He stepped away. ‘There, have a look.’
She focused on the mirror in front of her. The dress was elegant, sexy, beautiful. ‘It’s perfect.’
‘You might need to get your eyes checked,’ he said. ‘It’s not right.’
‘But-‘
‘You aren’t walking out of here with anything less than the perfect dress,’ he said. ‘Let’s try the next one.’
He unbuttoned the dress and tossed it to the floor. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said as he saw her looking down at it. ‘Night after the gala, I guarantee black and white will be all the rage, and all of these rejects will sell for a hundred times what they usually would. I may finally retire,’ he said. ‘I’ve said this to my last five clients, but this might be my last dress.’
The next three dresses were discarded as well each “less perfect than the last” according to the fairy.
He pressed a button on the wall and a pair of twin hobs entered the room to clean away the prototypes. Once the dresses were removed, they returned with a tray of refreshments.
They sat on the facing chaises and ate the dainty-looking cakes.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘Magnolia,’ Yo said as he poured a richly coloured purple liquid from the jug. ‘A dozen prototypes is nothing.’
‘I have to ask,’ she said after they ate in silence for a moment, ‘did you start to design anything for Mimosa?’
‘I did.’ He lifted his glass. ‘Do you want to see it?’
She gave him a small nod, and walked to the other side of the room and popped open a small, hidden wall panel. A rail extended, holding a single, blue dress. Swatches of fabric in a dozen different blues hung across it like a bandolier, and there were chalk marks everywhere – unlike the finished prototypes she’d been trying, this was something barely past the initial concept.
She followed the chalk lines with her eyes and the small cuts. If it had been finished, it would have been beautiful. Completely unsuitable for Mimosa, but beautiful.
She fingered the swatches, and felt a tingle as she touched one. ‘Tabitha silk?’
‘Of course,’ he said, ‘and stitching on the brocade done with unicorn hair.’
She shook her head. ‘Tabitha silk would have been a bad call.’
‘Oh?’
‘She hates being touched, a fabric that stimulates the skin would have driven her crazier.’
‘I thought you weren’t friends,’ Yo said as he made a few more chalk marks on the fabric.
‘We’re not. Doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about her,’ she said, keeping her voice even. “It’s a tactical advantage” danced on the tip of her tongue, but better judgement kept the sentence locked away.
A tactical advantage. A tactical advantage to be used on an enemy. A subtle, bitchy, passive-aggressive way of proving how fragile the experiment was. Brushing against her in the elevator, brushing against her in the conference room, making sure to touch her hand when grabbing paperwork. A flinch or a shudder, every single time.
Stupid worthless experiment. Stupid worthless experiment that had given mirror to save her life. Stupid worthless experiment that had saved the world. It was so hard not to think of her as the enemy. As an obstacle. As something that shouldn’t exist. A walking circumvention of duty and the rules.
She pushed the confusion aside, and smiled as she saw the glass slippers. ‘Also a bad idea.’
‘What’s wrong with a bit of fairy tale?’ Yo asked as he pushed the rail back in and closed the hidden panel.
‘She’d probably shatter them and bleed out at her own gala.’
Yo smirked. ‘That would not have been the best advertisement. Come on, let’s try the next one.’
An hour later, all of the remaining prototypes lay on the floor.
‘Why don’t you tell me what you want?’ Yo said as he relaxed on the chaise longue opposite her. ‘Nothing will work unless it’s what you want.’
She looked at the pile of silks he’d thrown to the floor, and felt pangs of guilt. ‘But they’re all so-‘
‘Bah,’ he snapped, his stylus running across the tablet in his lap. ‘Magnolia, you tell me what you want.’
‘Anything that you-‘
‘You’re not going to ask, are you?’ The old man pushed himself to his feet and turned the screen to face her. ‘How about something fit for a queen?’
The rough pen strokes coalesced as the dress took shape in her mind.
‘Well, at least I’ve managed to stun you into silence.’
‘I’m not a damned queen,’ she said, the weak protest in her voice didn’t even sound convincing to her own ears.
‘I should hope not,’ Yo said as lights streamed down on her from the ceiling. Black lines hovered, half visible to her as he circled her – a holographic wire frame of the dress on his tablet. The lines slipped and changed as he made adjustments on his computer. ‘Your mother was damned, I suppose, even if you do nothing, you’ll do a better job that she did.’
‘You know who I am?’
‘Anyone who pays enough attention to Court politics knows who you are. Not that a lot care about the magpies, but the situation is drawing attention – it’s unusual for a family to have no warden for this long.’
Panels of white appeared to fill in the black lines surrounding her as the rough dress shape started to take shape.
‘I don’t care about the family,’ she said, ‘I’ve never wanted anything to do with them.’
‘Is the alternative better?’
‘Mordred is a psychopath,’ she said as Yo returned to the chaise to sketch at the drawing more. ‘He could be worse than my mother.’
‘Spin around for me.’
She lifted her arms and slowly turned.
‘He wants the crown, I’m assuming?’
She gave a shrug of naked shoulders. ‘He sent his lawyer to threaten and bargain for it. Offered me safety if I gave up my portion of the warden’s powers.’
‘And?’
‘Negotiations were cut short when he killed an agent,’ she said. ‘And I’ve got no wish to reopen them.’
‘So you’re a coward.’
She took a moment to process the voice, and the words. It wasn’t Yo, it was a woman’s voice.
She turned towards the sound of the voice, and saw a woman standing at the back of the room, behind Yo’s chaise lounge, a stare of disapproval on her face that would have made combat recruits wince.
Fish. The woman was a fish. Scales ran up her neck in delicate, deliberate patterns.
‘Coward,’ the woman said again.
She automatically reached for a weapon, but felt nothing but the chemise covering her body and immediately began to look around the room.
‘Miss Magnolia,’ Yo said as he rose from the chaise. ‘Have you had the pleasure?’
She stared at the fish and shook her head.
Arshan took her hand and lead her over to the fish, the wireframe hologram disappearing as soon as she’d moved out from under the lights.. ‘Miss Magnolia, this is Queen Marguerite Hat-Stewart.’
She barely held in a scoff. ‘Hat?’
The queen arched an eyebrow. ‘And you bear little resemblance to the flower, about as little resemblance as you do to your mother.’
‘Salmon?’
‘Yes, magpie, of course. If you intend to be queen, you need to be better at spotting the characteristics of your fellow families.’
‘I have no intention of-’
‘Your family is suffering because there is no warden, so you need to take the crown or abdicate and let your brother take it.’
‘I won’t give him the power.’
‘Then you’ve got no choice but to become queen.’
‘I am nineteen fucking years old, and I have a life at the Agency. I have neither the experience nor the inclination to lead a family I have been ostracised from and that has done nothing but hurt me.’
‘And that’s why you should be queen.’
‘Sorry bitch, what?’
The salmon queen smiled. ‘I was fifteen when I was given the position, don’t hide behind your age. Ignorance can be-’
‘I never said I was ignorant.’
The queen moved past her and sat on Yo’s chaise. ‘Do you want my advice or not, flower?’
‘I don’t need it, fish. I have no interest in-’
‘You can have the power without the responsibility.’
She stared at the fish for a moment, then relaxed her posture a little. ‘I’m listening.’
‘Then we should talk.’ She looked to the fairy. ‘Do you have enough to work with?’
Yo nodded. ‘I should have something more concrete for you to see when you get back from lunch. Do you want me to combine the lunch reservations into a private room?’
‘I think that should be suitable,’ the queen said. ‘You should get dressed, flower.’
She set a neutral expression on her face, and retrieved her simple, required dress from the rack.
‘A question first,’ the Queen said, staring as she dressed. ‘The agent. Is he just a lover, or is he something more to you?’
‘How is that relevant?’
‘If you intend to be queen, Magnolia, it’s very relevant.’
‘Paraphrasing yourself doesn’t answer the question,’ Taylor said.
She snapped her head up as she slipped on her boots, and saw him standing in the doorway. ‘Sir-‘
‘The walls are thin,’ he said. He looked to the queen. ‘Why is it relevant?’
The queen smiled at him. ‘You are an impressive-looking agent. You’re good arm candy if nothing else. Still – are you for fun or for the long-term?’
She wanted to smack the royal fish, to make her swallow the words, to take back the question. The future, let alone plans for the future hadn’t been something they’d discussed. It wasn’t just some fling, but trying to put it into words would be pushing him. Unbreakable as he was, she couldn’t chance talking about something that aimed at a vulnerability he wasn’t used to.
She didn’t want to push him away.
Unbidden, she looked to him, traitorous eyes looking into his when she should have focused on the fish.
Perhaps, sometimes there was justification for cannibalism.
Taylor said nothing.
The Queen sighed. ‘It is important because it changes how you will be perceived. There has never been an agent as a prince-consort of a Court. It would be something new.’
A demurely-dressed young man entered the room and handed her a phone. ‘I’ll see you two at the restaurant, and please, flower, keep an open mind.’ She pressed the phone to her ear, then followed the young man out.
She swung her arms in front of her, half-dance, half-imagined kata, and took deep breaths to comfort herself.
‘Prince-consort,’ Taylor said.
She looked up to him. ‘Sir-‘
‘I saw that.’
Apologies died on her tongue. ‘What?’
‘I saw that.’
She let confusion cross her face. ‘Forgive me sir, saw what? Saw it where?’
‘Wrath showed me possibilities of the future. That was one of them.’
‘I don’t want to be queen. No. I don’t want to be my mother. If the fish is right and power is possible without the responsibility, then I’m willing to listen. I will not sacrifice being a recruit for something I don’t want, but if I can have both, then it’s something I will consider. But that is no demand on you, sir.’ She sat on the chaise and began to lace her boots. ‘The future isn’t something we’ve discussed, sir. I am grateful for what we have now, and I’m not going to-‘
‘Avoidance of a topic benefits no one,’ he stated. ‘Talk.’
‘These aren’t decisions I can make for us, sir. What do you want from this? From us?’
‘You.’
‘That goes without saying sir, but as to label, and official statuses-‘
‘Marriage,’ he said flatly.
She focused on tying her laces. ‘That’s one possibility, sir.’
‘What do you want, Magnolia?’
She stood and looked at him. ‘Simplicity. I don’t want change. I want-‘
‘Constancy,’ he supplied. ‘Security. Status quo.’
‘Pretty much, sir. Adaptability in a fight is necessary, I’m less capable when it comes to my own affairs though.’
‘I do not envisage this to be a temporary state.’ His arms wrapped around her. ‘And I have no issue with official recognition of that.’
Her heart fluttered at the possible implications of his words. ‘Sir-‘
‘You are my constant, Magnolia, everything else is secondary to that.’ He fished his dog tags out from his shirt and lifted them over his head. ‘It will take death to separate us, and even that we’ll fight. Your duty is to me and mine is to you.’ He slipped the dog tag’s warm chain over her head and used it to pull her close. ‘And I have no issue informing the world of that.’
Her heart hammered in her chest. ‘Are you asking-?’
‘Yes, Magnolia, I am.’
She leaned up and kissed him.
‘Magnolia?’
‘Sir?’
‘Say yes,’ he said, ‘and it’s not an order.’
Tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘Yes.’
There was an eruption of cheers, and she spun, looking for an attack. The entire staff was watching them, and clapping.
Taylor growled, and she heard herself laugh. He growled louder, and after a few more shouts of congratulations, the staff disbanded, leaving only Yo.
‘If this was a ploy for an affirmation ceremony dress,’ the fairy said with a smile, ‘it worked.’
She gave him a confused look.
‘There’s only been three proposals in this studio,’ he said, ‘I figure it’s the least I can do. Let me use a bit of colour this time? I’ll re-purpose one of the vintage May designs.’
‘But we’re not-’ She looked to Taylor. ‘Sir, we’re-’ The look on his face surprised her. ‘Sir?’
‘Grigori,’ he said as he rubbed his temple. ‘Has informed me repeatedly that should this come to pass, that I had to allow him to host an affirmation ceremony, or else.’
‘Or else what?’
He shrugged. ‘Just that. Or else. He hasn’t found a threat yet that works, I’ve encouraged him to keep trying.’
‘That settles it,’ Yo said. ‘Now go lunch with the queen, I’ll see you back here in a few hours.’
‘Where’s the closest administrative office?’ Taylor asked the fairy.
Her heart floated and her body followed suit. Her feet lost contact with the floor for a moment before she focused and regained her footing and her hold on her commander. Her- Her fiancée. Her one-form-away-from husband.
Proposal to marriage in half an hour, twenty minutes if the lines were short. Very efficient. Very appropriate.
She clutched at the dog tags around her neck, and leaned against him, her feet losing contact with the floor again.
‘End of the block, turn left, follow the green directional line, can’t miss it.’ Yo smiled. ‘You want to do this now?’
Taylor looked to her and she nodded.
‘Recruit?’
‘Sir?’
‘Ready?’
‘Yes sir.’
He ran a hand down her arm, and they walked from the studio.
‘You’re kidding, right?’
‘Most of the time, Maggie, yes, but not now.’
Maggie stared at the pile of pink boxes. ‘I’m too old for Barbies.’
‘That’s not what the lady in the store said. Besides, they’re not for you, they’re for me.’
‘You went to a shop and bought them, you didn’t poof them?’
‘I can require more if we break these, but I’m trying to do it properly.’
‘And I’m trying to do homework!’
Darren sighed and sat down across the big table from her. ‘The book says you should hate homework. Ten year olds hate homework, that’s what the book says?’
‘Well I don’t.’ She put down her green pencil and picked up a black one to reinforce the outlines of the state-shapes on her report. ‘What book?’
A book poofed into his hands and he waved it at her. ‘She says I have to read all the books she gives me before she gives me kids. Which is sort of like homework. But I don’t like homework, you want to sneak out?’
‘You kind of suck as a babysitter.’
‘You suck as a kid!’
She stuck her tongue out at him. ‘And what if your kids like homework and playing indoors?’
‘…I’ll return them?’
She abandoned her map of Australia and climbed up onto the table to look at the mountain of pink boxes. ‘How did you carry all of this?’
There was a knock at the door. ‘Darren?’
He swore under his breath, apologised to her, then stood to look at the man in the doorway. Another agent. The same suit Darren wore, when he bothered to wear all of his suit, and not just his shirt and pants. ‘Yes, sir?’
She flinched at the word “sir” and started to climb off the table – the big table, hers to use for homework or not, was the official agent table, and probably one of the pieces of furniture a person shouldn’t climb on.
The other agent smiled at her. ‘A bit young for a recruit, isn’t she?’
‘She’s a mascot?’ Darren said.
‘I am not!’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Maggie.’
‘Nice to meet you, Maggie,’ the agent said, ‘Darren, could I talk with you for a moment?’
‘You just start unboxing these.’ Darren said as he left the room with the other agent.
Maggie stared at the open pile of Barbies, to the door, then back again. The clock on the wall and the Minnie Mouse watch on her wrist told her that Darren had been gone at least twenty minutes.
She walked through the building – it was always quiet in the afternoons. The sound of the two men talking was muffled by Darren’s office door, enough to hear voices, but not the words. The voices didn’t sound happy.
She twisted the bottom of her school uniform shirt, then sneaked closer to the office.
The other agent’s voice rose over Darren’s. He sounded like a principal. Like principals did when they yelled at her about fights she didn’t start. Finished, but didn’t start.
‘Give me a break!’ Darren’s voice came, much louder than Agent Principal and loud enough to make her knock over the bin next to her.
The voices went quiet and the door to Darren’s office opened. Agent Principal stared down at her, the back at Darren. ‘She’s the closet thing you’ve got to a recruit, and she thinks she can sneak up on agents.’
‘Just close the door, sir.’
Agent Principal walked over to her, picked up the bin, then tossed a heavy blue folder into it. ‘Darren, I can’t give you any more chances.’
‘I’m only-‘
‘I’m sick of hearing the age excuse,’ Agent Principal snapped. ‘If not for your Aide, you’d already-‘
‘Classy, sir, are you really going to threaten me in front of a child.’
‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. And there’s no reason to hide the truth from children.’ Agent Principal crouched in front of her. ‘How old are you, Maggie?’
‘Ten.’
‘Ryan-’ Darren said.
‘Does your teacher give you homework?’
‘I was doing it, then he brought Barbies in. It’s not due till Friday. Can teachers call angels about homework?’
This got a decidedly non-principally smile out of him. ‘Maybe.’
‘Maggie, go to your room or I’ll-’ Darren started.
‘Shift her, and I’ll shift her back down.’ Agent Ryan said. ‘Do you always do your homework on time, Maggie?’
She twisted her uniform shirt again. ‘I try!’
‘And trying is all I ask for,’ Ryan said as he looked up at Darren. ‘How is it that a child has a better work ethic than you do?’
‘She’s weird,’ Darren said, ‘she likes homework, she helps Katie file stuff on the weekends. She started to read the recruit handbook, and found errors in it.’
Ryan smiled again. ‘She’ll make a great recruit one day.’ A bar of chocolate poofed into hand and he handed it to her before standing. ‘And you might not live that long to see that if you don’t improve.’
‘I’m not a great agent, you should have figured that out by now!’
‘I can’t keep covering for you! Your only recruit is an overworked Aide, your territory is overrun by fae and Solstice and gods know what else. The previous agent in this position didn’t have an issue, but everything is growing wild on your watch. I’ve made all the allowances for your age that I can, and even that you didn’t deserve. Do you think my first five years were easy?’ Ryan pointed to the file in the bin. ‘And I am not signing off on that until you’ve earned it.’
‘We’ll do it anyway.’
‘Legal for Kings is not legal for Agency,’ he said, ‘do as you wish, but if I have to walk you to the chamber, she won’t get spousal benefits.’
‘Why are you doing this to me?’
‘Because I have to,’ Ryan said, ‘I have enough problems keeping my city and my territory under control without covering for you as well.’
Darren looked scared, and she ran across to hold his hand. ‘Would you do it?’ Darren asked. ‘Look at me, sir, could you really do it?’
‘Carol Whitman,’ Ryan said. ‘Review the file before you ask me what I’m capable of. If you want to celebrate your sixth birthday, I’m going to need to see some improvement. You can have help, but ask for it, don’t just expect it.’
Ryan straightened his coat and disappeared from the room.
‘Maggie-’
‘What’s that called?’
‘What’s what called, sweetheart?’
‘When you poof to go somewhere.’
‘A shift. Shifting.’
She stared up at him. ‘And you’re only five? You look like a grown-up. Not just a tall kid. And you drink and drive and smoke.’
‘Angels are different,’ he said as he poofed a couple of chairs and sat on one of them. ‘We’re born grown ups. At least looking like grown ups. Thinking like grown ups can take a bit longer.’
‘That why he was yelling at you?’
Darren nodded. ‘I’m the kid in class whose dog ate their homework. I just don’t get it. Not like they do. All the other angels get a handle on it so much easier. There’s a bloke even younger than me that’s already on Ryan’s good list.’
‘Katie does all the forms and stuff.’
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘she does, that’s why-’ He looked at the bin and sighed. ‘If it wasn’t for her, I would have gotten onto his “really naughty list” and you’d be talking to a different angel.’
‘Why?’
‘You want some ice cream?’
‘Ice cream isn’t an answer.’
He ran his hand through his hair. ‘I think when they made me they left out the ability to be organised. The scary thing, Maggie, is that if they weren’t careful, that could actually be true. Put me up against a scary thing and I can beat its head in, I can talk to people and learn what I need to know, but that’s sort of where it ends with me, I don’t care about the official side of stuff. The people around me are safe, and that’s what’s important to me, not the paperwork and bullshit. Don’t tell your dad I swore in front of you.’
‘Bullshit’s not a bad swear.’
‘Maggie...’
She stuck her tongue out at him, then twisted the bottom of her shirt again. ‘What he said but, what’d he mean?’
‘Nothing. He didn’t mean nothing. He’s always mad at me.’
‘Why won’t you see your next birthday?’
‘Why can’t you be a stupid kid?’
She frowned at him. ‘Cause I’m a freak. And I like being a freak. And if you’re stupid and a freak then it’s easier for people to pick on you. If you’re a freak, you’ve got to be smart.’
‘If I don’t start being a better angel, he’ll kill me Maggie, and please don’t tell your dad I said that either. Or Katie. Especially Katie. I can handle your dad being mad at me. I mean, she already knows, sorta. This afternoon can be our little secret, right?’
‘He’ll kill you?’
‘Can’t we please just have ice cream?’
She shook her head.
‘You’re giving me, orders, Maggie?’
She nodded.
‘So where do we start, ma’am?’
‘Get your homework and come to the homework table.’
* * *
Magnolia stared at the green line beneath her feet – a little too far beneath her feet. Her tiptoes barely scraped against the concrete as if she were a ballerina. Forward momentum, to her embarrassment, was supplied by leaning against her commander.
It was embarrassing. It was pathetic. It wasn’t disciplined and it wasn’t the right impression to be making.
She focused on the ground as if it had insulted the Agency, and felt herself finally touch back down.
Taylor, however, kept his hand on her arm.
Marriage. An unthinkable concept. A possibility she’d never accounted for. Never a dream worth having. Agency life wasn’t a story that lead to long, happy lives and white picket fences. Fucking on duty, and dying together was about as much as one could hope for.
And once again, he was fucking with her expectations.
Unrequited love was bullshit. Bullshit she’d lived for almost the entire time she’d been a recruit. Abusive bastard that he’d been, it hadn’t taken long to fall, and fall hard.
There was a tinkling of bells as he pushed open the door to the office building.
Fairies liked things to be simple – and that included having the majority of their official buildings being able to deal with all issues that their citizenry dealt with. It was the one location for unemployment benefits, no-child payments, marriages, adoptions and parents freeing themselves of claims on children.
She quickly looked at the signage and they walked towards a bank of computers.
She slid into a chair. ‘This will just be a moment sir,’ she said as she clicked through the available files and selected the options to print a two-name/one-name marriage application.
She went back to the home screen, then looked to the printer, and the short line of fae. ‘Sir,’ she said as she turned, ‘could you find a table for us?’
He nodded, and left here to stand in the short printer line behind two giggly hob girls and a gnome with a baby fairy in a tiny carrier.
The fae ahead of her only took seconds with the printer, then she picked up the marriage application from the tray. It was still slightly warm and all-too-real.
Married. They were getting married.
* * *
Darren came into the room, a messy stack of papers in his arms.
‘Get rid of the Barbies,’ she said.
‘You seem really all right about giving me orders, Maggie.’
‘If you’re really five, then you’re like a pre-schooler, and pre-schoolers have to listen to people older than them.
The pile of pink boxes poofed away.
‘And what’s that called?’
‘You know that one, Maggie,’ Darren said as he sat and spilled his papers across the table. ‘Require.’
‘It’s require to get stuff, but is it require to get rid of stuff?’
‘...yeah?’
‘Really?’
‘Maggie stop making me think about this stuff.’
‘You’re a five-year-old that looks like a grown-up and and who can poof anything they want. You’re a freak, just like me, so that means you have to be smart, just like me.’
Darren gave a big frustrated-pre-schooler sigh and required a beer. ‘In all technicality, it’s a requisition, but everyone calls it requiring, and “require” is the word you think in your head to get something. To get rid of something, it’s “dismiss”.’
She smiled. ‘See? That wasn’t too hard.’ She picked up her blue pencil to colour the ocean on her map. ‘Now start with the easiest one in the pile.’
He put a hand over his eyes and took lucky-dipped one form out of the pile. ‘Ugh.’
She smiled. ‘Bet I can finish Australia before you can finish that one.’
‘And if I win?’
‘You won’t.’
‘I’ll bet you-’ he started.
‘I saw what the forms in the bin were.’
Darren looked up, then everything went swirly as the Agency disappeared.
A strong breeze sent her hair in a hundred different directions. ‘Where are we?’
‘You were doing a map of the country, I thought you’d like to see the middle of it. Well, what someone used to think was the middle of it.’
‘You can't tell anyone what you saw on those forms.’
‘I can keep a secret, I’m not an idiot.’
‘She can’t know I asked Ryan, and she can’t know he said no. Ok?’
‘Why do you have to ask your boss if it’s ok to get married?’
‘Angel law, Maggie. We can get married, but it won’t count according to the Agency. And I love Katie, and I want it to count in all the ways.’
She stared up at him. ‘Can we go home now?’
The world went swirly again, and the conference room reappeared.
The door opened and her dad walked in. ‘How’s everything going in here?’
She smiled. ‘We’re discussing the need for a good work ethic.’
* * *
Taylor pointed at the name designation section. ‘What there?’
‘Well, you won’t be taking my name, sir. Do you want-?’
‘What do you want, Magnolia?’
She clasped the dog tags around her neck and stared at his name stamped into them. ‘Yes, sir. If you don’t mind, sir.’
He gave her a slight nod.
She lifted the clipboard from her knees, and carefully wrote “Magnolia Taylor” into the new name designation section.
They each signed the form, and she ran over the three pages again, just to double-check it as though it was any other piece of paperwork, any normal piece of paperwork, instead of the second-biggest life changing form of her life.
She removed her small purse from the pocket stitched into the waistline of her skirt, and found her bank card.
Taylor put a large, warm hand over hers, then pulled a small stack of bills from his pocket and peeled away three purple twenty-five notes and a green ten note, then tossed them down onto the form.
‘Thank you sir.’
‘You did the paperwork,’ he said.
She stared down at the marriage application, and at the number in her hand. Three to go. She pushed down the giddy feelings and looked up at him. ‘This is the last easy point to back out, sir.’
He leaned close, his mouth brushing against her ear. ‘The statement of intent I want to give would have me recycled, Magnolia, I have no want to back out.’
‘Sir?’
‘Later,’ he said. ‘Not here. Later.’
Their number was called, and they walked over to the counter with the small blinking blue light.
The fairy took the form from her as they stepped up to the counter, and brightened when they saw it was an application for marriage. Their form was slid into a scanner, and the fairy moved away from the counter for a couple of moments before returning with their blue-tinted certificate. The fairy placed it into a small folder, then passed it through the slot. ‘Congratulations.’
A receipt printed as Taylor handed across the money. The fairy tore away the receipt first, and pointed out the charges in a perfunctory manner, then reached into a draw and withdrew a bright orange booklet. ‘Either of you been married before?’
She passed the booklet through the slot. ‘This is a book of vouchers and discounts for your affirmation ceremony, lovers’ vacations and the like.’ She smiled. ‘Enjoy.’
Taylor slipped the booklet and the receipt into one of his many pockets, and they walked from the office, agent and wife.
‘And for you sir?’ the hob waitress asked him.
Taylor stared at the gilded menu in his hands, a hundred dishes that he’d never tried stared back at him. He flicked his eyes at Magnolia and she quickly ordered for him. The waitress bobbed a bow and took the menu from his hands.
The wine steward rounded the table and filled their glasses again.
‘it took you long enough to get here,’ the salmon Queen said as the scales on her hands retracted to give her the appearance of human skin. ‘Or did Yo have some sudden inspiration with your dress?’
Magnolia looked to him, smiled the slight smile she gave before she stabbed someone in the back, then laid their marriage certificate on the table.
‘I do suppose that answers the question,’ the salmon said as she stared at the certificate. ‘Flower, are you doing this to be contrary?’
His wife twitched at the Queen referring to her as a flower, then leaned forward. ‘You wanted an answer, fish, this is your answer. Whatever move I make, he’s with me.’
‘An agent has never been at the head of a Court before, not even as a prince-consort, not even of a minor Court, and your family’s Court is barely noteworthy as it is. All the magpies do is inspire fear and pity. You have no power, you have no influence, you have no governance and you have no strategy.’
‘I intend to stay a recruit,’ Magnolia said. ‘I have no wish to be a slave to my family’s Court. And I will not let any of them have the same power over me as my mother did.’
‘Your situation is unusual to say the least,’ the queen said. ‘The power split between you and your brother. It shouldn’t have happened like that. The power and the duty usually pass to a single heir, and Death can facilitate if it doesn’t happen before a warden’s death. How did the bitch finally die?’
He leaned forward to answer the question. ‘I tore her heart out.’
‘Brutal,’ the Queen said, but gave no indication of being disturbed, ‘and you gave her the heart’s blood?’
‘Yes.’
‘That explains that, then. It’s a little silly, if you think about it, but it’s the one way to forcibly take a warden’s power. It couldn’t have been everything though, that’s why your brother has some of the power.’
‘I don’t want to be queen, I don’t want to invest the time,’ Magnolia said.
‘Today I have had a spa, a dress resizing and now I’m wasting my time talking to you. Does it seem as though I invest much time in my Court?’
‘How do you do it?’
The queen looked at each of them in turn. ‘it’s easy. You set up a parliament. Retain the power, delegate the responsibility. Your family’s affairs may be in shambles, but it would take very little effort to bring it into some sort of order. Tithing and outside income for a start. The magpies, so far as I know, provide no standard service. You could tender a contract or offer services that only your kind can do. The crows charge far too much for their cab services, but no one challenges them, so their rates are paid. Your kind would also make good security guards.’
‘I can’t begin to-‘ Magnolia started.
‘You need to kill your brother if you want a chance at peace, and a chance at bringing your family under control.’
Magnolia nodded to this.
‘Kill him, and install a parliament,’ the Queen said, ‘it’s as simple as that, flower.’
‘I don’t have any friends in my family,’ she said, ‘and I won’t appoint people I don’t trust.’
This seemed to surprise the Queen. ‘You have no contacts in your family?’
He looked to Magnolia. ‘The tech,’ he said.
‘I have one brother,’ she said, ‘another recruit, which is the only reason I even know him. He’s a tech and I hardly think he would be suited to the position of Magpie Prime Minister.’
‘You shouldn’t be so quick to-‘
‘We’re combat,’ she said, ‘scholars have their uses and it’s not as leaders.’
‘Should I be expecting a Court under military rule, flower?’ the Queen asked. ‘I might have to reconsider my support if that’s your intent.’
Magnolia narrowed her eyes. ‘Support?’
‘If you align yourself with us, and promise no more wars, you’ll have the support of my Court to help you ascend to Queen, and to help bring your Court to order. We could be great allies, and to tell you the truth, flower, there aren’t a lot of Courts willing to ally themselves with you or your brother. If you intend to do anything, you need help.’
Her phone rang and she excused herself to answer it.
Magnolia looked to him. ‘Sir?’
‘The offer seems genuine,’ he said, ‘your mother made war for no reason, your brother would be worse. Her support of you makes tactical sense for her Court.’
‘This doesn’t seem like something that could be accomplished in a day,’ she said.
‘Have you considered it?’ he asked. ‘Leading the Court?’
She shook her head. ‘No, sir.’
‘You excel in whatever you try,’ he said. ‘If that’s where your duty is-‘
‘My duty is to you, sir. To you, first and always, to the Agency second, everything else is a distant third. Responsibility to my family, such as it is, never enters my mind. If I can retain the power without the responsibility, then that would be ideal. It would be a potential source of new recruits, but if I-‘ She paused and took a drink. ‘There are a few families that exist without a warden. I don’t know what complexities are involved, but it would almost seem better to have none to have power than-‘
He shook his head once and she cut herself of in mid-sentence. ‘There always needs to be someone with more power than you,’ he said. ‘Your position holds other recruits in line, Enforcers and those above hold agents in line. Those without someone more powerful to yield to are dangerous. The delusion of invincibility leads to slaughter far too easily.’
The Queen returned, and the conversation resumed.
He watched as Magnolia and the Queen spoke, delving in more political detail than he cared to absorb – at least until it he had no choice in the matter. Magnolia could lead a Court – he had no issue believing that. It was easy to imagine her leading a Court, leading an army, leading an Agency. She was capability in a short skirt.
He dropped his hand below the table and brushed a hand against her leg. Her face only changed in the subtlest of ways, but her hand covered his, and pressed it to her leg, then guided it to her thigh. He held her leg firmly, but made no movement to tease her or distract her.
Lunch disappeared from their plates in short order – the serving sizes completely dissociated from their price. Wine glasses were filled again, then a serve of the “house special” dessert was place in front of each of them. Silver plates inlaid with Tresh emeralds – which according to their far-too-verbose server changed the flavor of the food. Multi-coloured mousses sat in thumb-high mounds around the circumference of the plate, surrounded a small, clear bowl that held a mealfish. One, as their server explained, modified to taste like the signature dish of a chef that had died half a millennia ago.
The lunch had been serviceable. Meats and vegetables and sauces. Foods that were simple enough.
The fancy dessert on his plate was anything but simple. It was the kind of thing Grigori would order, It was chaotic. It was-
Magnolia moaned, and he turned to look at her. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks as she caught his gaze.
‘What colour?’ he asked as he looked at the missing mounds of mousse on the edges of her plate.
‘Red, sir.’
He spooned a lump of the red mousse into his mouth and swallowed. Edible. Pleasant. He gave her a slight nod, then worked on emptying the plate in short order, saving the meal fish for last. He plucked the fish from its bowl and swallowed it.
Magnolia’s hand strayed to his leg, her face neutral as she finished off her mousse.
His dog tags clinked around her neck as she leaned forward to grab her wine glass. His tags. His recruit. His Aide. His wife.
His duty.
He wrung his hands on the cloth napkin in his lap, and ignored conversation as it went back to Court politics and the lack of support the families got from the major Courts.
He wanted to kiss her.
He wanted to touch her.
She was his, and she was his duty.
Words he could only allude to. Words he couldn’t say out loud. Words that were truer than anything else he knew.
He was an agent, and until he needed to be otherwise, he could act as though his duty was to the Agency. It was the only life they knew, it was the only thing they wanted. Had been the only thing they wanted.
The glimpses Wrath had given him had been mere seconds from futures that could change with the tiniest of decisions. None of them were guaranteed, and none of them were unavoidable destinies. A life within the Agency was possible – probable – but not guaranteed.
An agent’s life was one of duty, was one of duty until death. Duty couldn’t be scrubbed from their soul, it was there, even for the Fallen. Duty, however, was far less often to the Agency than the propaganda would have everyone in uniform believe.
Duty until death. He had died for the Agency. He had paid his debt. Whatever came next was with Magnolia, Agency or not.
[Cut for sexytiem].
Magnolia ran a single Tabitha-silk-covered finger up his length, and felt the shiver that passed through his entire body. She took her hand away from him and he groaned, his body moving to follow her. She pressed a gloved hand against his taut stomach and pressed him into the bed, keeping him at bay as she fluttered the fingers of her other hand against his inner thighs.
First night as husband and wife, the perfect time to fuck as though the world was ending.
Her name came from him as a desperate prayer, and she rewarded him, tracing her fingers over the tip of his erection.
His hips bucked up to meet her hand and she smiled at the pure and simple need of the movement. She wrapped her fingers around him, one at a time, curling them into an iron grip, and began to slowly pull him towards release.
His breath came out in jerking breaths, and she smiled at him as their eyes locked. One of his hands locked around the hand pressing on his stomach and pulled it higher. She let him pull her off-balance and splayed over his body, his erection pressing into her middle.
She pressed a kiss to his chest, then moved her hands towards his chest. She teased the silk gloves through the hair on his chest, then moved each glove to touch a tightening nipple.
His hands went to her hips, pulling her against him, his erection straining between them, moving across her middle as he moved, leaving the first hints of wetness as proof of her effect on him. Each of his nipples hardened under the glove’s touch, and she lowered her mouth to each in turn, her free hand tracing down his side. He groaned and begged in ragged gasps, pushing on her body with feeble attempts to turn her attention back to his lower half.
She flicked her tongue across his lips, and shook her head. ‘Sir, no, sir.’
‘Mag-nol-ia,’ he gasped, his hands burying in her hair and pulling her in for a deep kiss.
Again, she shook her head, and slipped from his grip. She tightened her thighs over his sides, and felt him pressed against her. She ran her hands through her hair, the Tabitha silk scraping over her scalp, feeling the tingling sensation of the fabric. She smiled as she twisted her hair into a loose bun, lowered herself more to press herself against him, teasing the loudest moan yet. She moved back a few inches, removing the brief, electric contact and moved the gloves to touch her breasts.
She grinned at him as she let the gloves linger. His face was a confused war zone of shock and lust – he’d never been a very visual person, except for his fascination with her legs. Weeks of slowly introducing him to the idea, though, had shown him the joys of being aroused by watching her play with herself.
She slipped a hand lower, down the curve of her body, and between her legs. He growled, a long, guttural sound. ‘Gods,’ he managed, ‘Magnolia, gods, please.’
She pulled her gloved hand away from herself and slipped down his body, crouching between his legs.
She lowered her face, and dragged her lower lip across the coolness of his skin, then moved again to tease at him with the gloves, and this time, with her mouth.
She touched her tongue to his tip and waited for him to move himself up as he desperately tried to make more contact with her. Her hands fell away from his length, both moving to cup him as she took him into her mouth.
His body snapped stiff as she fondled him with the gloves, and his hands went into her hair to hold her head still.
‘Slowly,’ he said, his body heaving with deep breaths. ‘Magnolia, slowly.’
She squeezed her hands ever so slightly and she felt the impact as he threw his head back against the bed. His hands slipped from her hair as his body yielded to her touch. She moved her hands slowly, his body twisting slightly with each tiny motion of her fingers.
He came with a guttural shout that shook his body, then collapsed gasping.
She moved to lie against his chest, and he wrapped a strong arm around her.
He moved his free hand and down to touch himself, to wipe away the mess, then slowly pulled the gloves from her hands.
‘You are my duty,’ he said.
The words slice into her, and she felt her breath catch. ‘Sir?’
‘You heard me, Magnolia.’
She propped herself up on her elbows and stared down at him. ‘But sir, I’m-’
She saw fear in his eyes. ‘Everything,’ he said.
‘Sir?’
‘Yours is to me. Mine is to you. Whatever inevitabilities occur, I yield to you first.’
‘Sir-’
He took his in arms and twisted her beneath him. ‘Don’t argue with me, Magnolia.’
‘I-’
His fingers found her and arguments died on her lips.
He lowered his mouth to each nipple in turn as his fingers teased her, refusing to enter her, forcing her to whimper and push herself against him.
He moved away from her chest and kissed her mouth, a hand moving to cover her eyes. ‘Do you trust me?’
‘I’ve trusted you as long as I’ve known you, sir.’
‘Close your eyes.’
She sank back against the expensive, thick hotel pillows and closed her eyes, her leg widening on impulse, ready for whatever he wanted to do.
His weight shifted as he moved away for a moment. She kept her eyes closed, and felt her heart fluttering in anticipation.
She heard a small rip of plastic, then his fingers found her again, they paused against her as his lips brushing against hers. ‘Do you trust me?’
She kissed him. ‘I trust you, sir.’
His fingers pushed into her, and she felt him slip something into her. Her eyes opened of their own accord as the small object began to buzz. She pushed herself up, arms wrapping around his neck.
‘Sir-’ She forced her eyes open against the pleasure to look at him, and saw the small strip of metal against his forehead.
He kissed her, one hand sliding around her to pull her up onto his lap, the other fondling her breasts with growing expertise as the buzzing increased inside her.
‘It picks up on emotions,’ he said, ‘bio-feedback, stronger emotions, stronger reactions.’
She felt herself teetering on the edge of orgasm, and bit down into his broad shoulder.
‘I don’t worship the gods,’ he said, and she forced herself to concentrate on his voice, ‘nor the Ladies, Wrath doesn’t want to be worshiped.’
She clamped her legs around him, tethering herself to reality, a tiny spark of reality in the fog of pleasure in her body. A hand ran down her body, and slowly joined the small buzzing toy, creating an easy rhythm for her to move against.
‘I think- I worship you,’ he said, his fingers slipping in deeper, the hand around her back pulling her closer. ‘It’s not just the paperwork. It’s not your reliability. It’s everything. You’re everything.’
‘I love you too, sir.’
‘I- Hard. It’s hard. I’m still incomplete. They left out ability and emotions. I cannot be- I was whole. I won’t be whole again. It’s easier with you. You don’t want him. You want me. You didn’t know him, you’re not comparing me to him. I am whole to you.’
He kissed her again, and she came, her body seizing and pressing closer to his.
He withdrew his fingers, and pulled the small buzzer out along with them.
She grabbed his shoulders and repaid his favour, twisting him to the bed beneath her. She straddled him, the nearness of her body teasing him erect again in short order.
He pushed himself into her, and they made love in the soft light of the hotel room.
Stef opened her eyes.
‘How long did I sleep this time?’
‘Four hours, sleeping beauty, you’re getting better at this,’ Curt said as he offered her a bucket-sized cup of coffee. She sat up against Ryan’s couch and chugged on the warm, sweet liquid.
She pressed a hand to her chest. ‘I wish that stupid bird would stop snacking on me.’
‘You should-‘ Ryan started.
‘No,’ she said as she stood to stretch. She rested the cup on the edge of Ryan’s desk and required herself from scrubs she didn’t remember donning to standard Monday code monkey gear.
‘No?’ Ryan asked with a perfectly narcy arched eyebrow. ‘You didn’t know what I was going to say.’
She tapped her head. ‘ESP,’ she said. ‘You’re gonna say-‘ She closed her mouth for a moment, played with some options in her HUD, then opened her mouth and spoke in Ryan’s voice. ‘Young lady, go to the techs and see how much the phoenix has nommed-‘ She did a small dance of joy. ‘You said nommed! I-you-me said nommed!’ She cancelled the voice changer. ‘You get the idea. I don’t want to know how much it’s eating. It’s not like there’s a choice, and if I don’t know, maybe it’ll regrow when I’m not looking.’
‘Stef-‘ Ryan said as Curt retreated to his cloned desk.
She sat back on the couch and required a bag of cookies. It was definitely a bag-of-cookies type of day. ‘Does the Agency have any more mirror?’
‘Not that I know of.’
‘But, I mean, come on. I’m no super speschul snowflake, and I was less of a snowflake when you flipped duty the bird and made me. You can’t be the only agent who has grabbed a bit of mirror. I mean, we’re not supposed to grab it, but are there agents who can, just so there’s an Agency stockpile of it?’
‘Again,’ he said, ‘not that I know of. In the scheme of the Agency, I’m no one important.’ He joined her on the couch and fished a cookie out of the bag for her. ‘While among agents, information is fairly free-flowing, at a Director’s level, and above me, information is very tightly controlled. I don’t know things because I don’t need to know them.’
‘I could be dying,’ she said in a tiny voice. ‘I don’t want to think about it, but the mirror’s a finite resource, and if we don’t find the other one soon…’ She counted to three, then began to tap out the Fibonacci sequence on her knees. ‘It’s not like I can say no. If I say no, either the world goes boom, or they remove me from the equation, stick a wire loop through whatever’s left of my heart and set it up in a bird feeder.’
She saw the look of hesitation on his face.
‘Whatever you’re going to say,’ she said, ‘say it, please. I don’t have time for bullshit.’
‘I half-expect that should- Should the heart run out.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I half-expect that if that were to happen, they would bring forth another mirror the next time the phoenix needed to feed, but won’t do so until you’ve expired.’
‘So I really suck that much as an agent.’
‘There are opponents to every experiment, Stef,’ he said, ‘it’s a testament to everyone involved that we’ve made it this far.’
She chewed on her thumb. ‘Ryan?’
‘Yes?’
‘Why am I like this?’
‘Like what?’
‘Why have I got a stupid lump of dead planet in my chest? Why couldn’t it just- Why couldn’t it just fix me, then refund the rest, or just use it all up? It’s so stupid this way.’
‘Magic, like life, doesn’t always make sense.’
She pressed a hand against her heart and felt the coolness of the mirror. ‘Stupid,’ she said, ‘but lucky, I guess. Whatever, we’ll figure it out, we always do.’ She sat up, and felt the small silver star bump against her skin. She smiled, surprised at how easy it came. ‘’Besides, even if I screw up and the world dies, at least we got a few more weeks, right?’
They both nodded.
She stared at the pile of paperwork on their desks. ‘I’m gonna go monitor some drones if you don’t need me,’ she said.
‘We’ll be fine, newbie,’ Curt said, and Ryan gave her a nod.
She shifted to the tech department, walked down the unusually-quiet halls and into the monitoring room. Four rows of computers had been set up, each with three monitors a piece, and plush, comfortable chairs excellent for pulling fourteen-hour shifts. All of the chairs, however, were full.
She leaned on the wall near the snack table and slowly scanned the room, looking for the telltale signs of someone being asleep. A few were close, but only one was. She quick-stepped over to his chair, touched a single finger to his shoulder, and shifted him back to his room.
A few requirements tidied the table, and she pulled on the sturdy headphones, her playlist loading as she changed users in the tracking system.
‘Which area have you got, ma’amy ma’am?’
She turned to her right and saw Screen at the next workstation. She looked back to the screen. ‘All I can see is trees,’ she said. She took in some of the data streaming next to each window. ‘Mt Coo-tha. I think. Yeah. Do these things fsck with the TV towers?’
The tech grinned. ‘Only if you mod them, and then Jonesy yells at you, so it’s not worth it. And it wasn’t one of us that did it. It was one of the guests.’
‘I don’t remember that.’
‘You were crispy at the time, ma’amy ma’am.’
She started and began to deny it, as was normal procedure for having a secret identity. A secret identity that had been blown. “Keep everything a secret” had become “everyone knows every detail”, and she hadn’t even been allowed to be at her own “I am Iron Man” press conference.
‘I always miss out on stuff when I’m dead,’ she said with a shrug. ‘I’m assuming the video’s on the common drive?’
‘Of course.’
‘Recruits-‘ Jonesy said as he walked up.
‘Oi!’
He winked. ‘Recruit. Agent. Back to work if you’re working.’
Screen handed her a bowl of M&Ms. She filled her cheeks, synched her drones with her HUD and surrendered to the flow of data.
Hours later, according to her HUD, she felt her chair spin. The disconnect in information sent her dizzy for a moment as she blinked and readjusted her vision fully back to out-of-HUD mode.
‘Huh?’
‘Need a break?’ Jones asked.
‘I can still feel my feet, so not yet?’
The tech nodded his head towards the door and she looked past him to see Curt.
‘Need a break?’ Jones asked again.
‘Just get someone to relieve me for dinner,’ she said as she logged out of the tracking program.
She stepped away from the desk, her neck snapping back as the headphone cord pulled tight.
‘I thought you’d moved to wireless,’ Jones said as he held her head still and pulled the headphones free.
‘If I move to wireless,’ she said as she refreshed her clothes with a thought, ‘then I don’t have a cord to play with when I’m procrastinating.’
He nodded as though this was a valid counter argument, and she walked over to the door.
Curt took her hand. ‘Dinner and gossip sound good?’
‘Gossip?’
He nodded. ‘Picnic on the roof?’
‘Picnic?’
‘You haven’t been out of the building all day, you need fresh air.’
‘I’m an agent, I don’t really need air.’
‘Newbie-‘
She jabbed the lift button. ‘I like the indoors, it’s safe.’
‘And the roof isn’t exactly Mordor.’
‘You’re learning.’
‘There’s only so many times you can hear techs say “one does not simply verb into Mordor” before you pick up on it”.’
She nodded as the elevator pinged and they stepped out onto the roof. Dim stars shone through the night lights of the city, and a light breeze whipped across the Agency’s roof.
A thick blanket appeared in the centre of the roof, As did several plates of food. He sat, and held his hand up to her. ‘Picnics are better in parks, but I think we can make this work.’
‘I don’t even remember the last time I went on a picnic,’ she said as she sat. He handed her an empty glass, which he filled with Mountain Dew. ‘I mean, like, literally,’ she clarified. ‘They’re no fun by yourself, so that cuts out the last few years, delete high school, and-‘ she thought hard. ‘Well, you met my father, do you think he’d be the kind of waste his time sitting on grass? And my mother threw clothes out if they got stained. I’m not actually sure I’ve ever been on a picnic.’
He clinked his glass against hers. ‘Then I’m sorry this one isn’t more traditional.’
She gulped down half the glass, then carefully set it on the blanket. ‘I don’t care about what’s traditional, I care about what’s- I feel like I finally get to care about what’s me. A-and us.’
‘Speaking of which,’ he said, ‘ready for the news?’
She nodded.
‘Mags and Taylor got married.’
‘Lolwut.’
‘Mags and Taylor got married.’
‘What.’
‘We’re not going to get very far if you keep doing that.’
‘They what?’
‘A little while ago, they got back from their two days off, marriage certificate in hand, wanting Ryan to make it all legal by the Agency.’
‘They got…married?’
He nodded.
‘Christ, tell me you didn’t bring me up here to propose to me.’ She slapped her hands over her mouth, then hung her head. ‘Wow. Ok. Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to- Sorry.’
His fingers slipped under her collar and he fished out her necklace. ‘I already gave you something pretty,’ he said. ‘But, yeah, I did want to find out what you thought about the whole issue. Mags and Taylor is going to spark a whole lot of marriage talk over the next couple of weeks. I wanted to know if I needed to censor myself, or if I should be expecting to find bridal magazines wedged under your pillow.’
She blushed at “your pillow”. ‘I forget,’ she said, ‘every day I still forget that I’m in a relationship. Not like- Not like I don’t care about you, nothing like that, but it’s such an extreme state change that I’m still catching up. I still have the urge to declare that I’m single when people ask, and then it hits me, and it does it every time. And it’s nice. And- And it’s so natural to go to bed with you, but I feel like I’m blushing myself into a coma every time I realise I’m sleeping with a boy.’ Her fingers found his, and she intertwined them. ‘I’m pretty sure I can be with you forever,’ she said, ‘but I don’t want to get married.’ She bit her lip, silently counted to three, then looked up at him. ‘Sorry?’
He kissed her.
She leaned forward, letting him hold her. ‘Lolwut?’ she said as he broke contact. ‘You realise I just said “no”, right?’
‘I think this might be the first time we’ve been on the same page.’
‘Again, I said “no”?’
‘I know. That’s how I feel too. When I think of marriage, I think of divorce, and I think of death, and all the misery that follows. He paused. ‘And I know-‘ He required away some of the food and gave her a pleading look as he knelt in front of her.
‘You can has,’ she said, and he put his head in her lap.
‘I’ve- I’ve never told anyone this. No one who didn’t already know anyway. I had a younger sister. She was autistic. My parents. Gods, my parents. Ok, maybe not as bad as yours, but they never really looked after her. They never cut her food right, or put her toys in the right order, tiny little details, so I had to pick up behind them and make things better for her.’
She gave him a nod, and began to stroke his hair.
‘There was nothing neat or clean about their marriage breaking down. I think they tried to save it a few times. The last time they tried to save it was with a family vacation. We were packing the car, and they were already arguing, about being late or which route to take, stupid stuff. They weren’t watching me, and they weren’t watching her. Car was in the driveway, I wasn’t looking, she stepped into the street-‘ He clung to her. ‘She died in the ambulance.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘They divorced after that. I blamed myself for so long. I still do. But I also blame them. They were the damn adults. They were the damn parents. I think about marriage, I think about divorce, and I think about being covered in my little sister’s blood. And I know that’s not right, but I’m not right, and I can’t help that.’
She leaned over his head, and held him tightly. ‘I don’t.’
‘Huh?’
‘Well, like “I do” but…I don’t. I agree not to marry you if you don’t marry me.’
He nodded against her lap. ‘I don’t either.’
He held onto her for a moment longer, then sat up and wiped his eyes. He kissed her lightly on the cheek. ‘I really can’t imagine you in a wedding dress anyway, newbie.’
‘Gods don’t talk about dresses, I don’t even know what I’m wearing to the gala.’
‘Maybe you should have taken that free dress thing.’
She shook her head. ‘Peace with Mags and Taylor is preferable to frippery. I’ll figure something out. Or I won’t.’ She shrugged. ‘Or maybe the- No, crap that won’t work.’
‘What?’
‘Even if someone kills the blue phoenix, Fairyland will be safe and the gala will go ahead.’
He rolled his eyes and handed her a sandwich. ‘You’d rather the end of the human race to picking a dress?’
‘…you want me to say no.’
He topped up his glass. ‘You’ve got a week, you’ll figure it out.’
The Night Before the Gala
Ryan felt the cold breeze behind him as Death appeared in his office. He turned and bowed to her.
She removed her hood and gave him a tired smile. ‘You’ve been trying to get my attention, Ryan, but there’s no body at your feet, this may be a first.’
‘My Lady-‘
‘I know what you want, angel, I am wondering why you thought it was a good idea.’
He moved around his desk and held the gala ticket in both of his hands. ‘You are as responsible for her life as I am, my Lady, I thought you should be invited to celebrate it.’
She lifted the ticket and his office fell into pieces. He took a steady breath as the world shimmered at the edges and became whole again. A hundred metres of air separated his feet from the ground, but he stood solidly on the sky, held aloft as safely as during a phoenix moon.
The Fairy palace, lit with thousands of lights, was open below them, dozens of small figures setting up for the gala, sparks of magic, of electricity flying from all four corners.
‘Not many,’ Death said as she stood beside him, hood down, ‘would invite me. And fewer would get my rejection in person.’
‘My Lady-‘
‘Ryan, right now, you have a billionth of my attention, do you know how rare that is?’
‘Far more than I deserve.’
‘A celebration of life is not where I belong. You’d be better to invite my sister.’
‘I don’t have Stef because of your sister, I have Stef because of you.’
‘I did not interfere,’ she said.
‘No, my Lady, you didn’t, but you allowed me to, and because of that permission-‘
‘Do you think that no other solution would have presented itself if she had not been involved?’
‘My Lady, you know I am not that arrogant, you know what happened in those other worlds, I do not. All I know is that in this world, she is the one who saved it, and since no one else will, I will thank you for the role you played.’
‘I should have denied you,’ she said, ‘I should have kept her. Every permission I give, every time I bend my own rules is a step closer I come to becoming the version of myself that will interfere, who will kill the wicked and allow the good to prosper, who will prevent mirrorfalls and stop the red phoenixes from flying. It is not utopia, it is dystopia, it is a life where people fear a being they cannot flee. I want to interfere, I do not want to be feared. I- I cannot strike a balance. It is, as I have told you, why I limit myself so much.’
‘I am sorry,’ he said.
She touched the side of his face. ‘Part of you is,’ she said, ‘part of you truly is. The larger part does not regret asking to save that little girl.’
‘I’m flawed, my Lady,’ he said. ‘And so insignificant compared to you, but within the confines of that insignificant life, Stef is the best thing to have ever happened to me.’
‘I’ve never known the joy of being a parent as you have.’
‘My Lady, I didn’t mean to-‘
‘I can understand it,’ she said, ‘but it must be entirely other thing to experience it. It’s too late to reconcile with my own child,’ she said. ‘This time, at least.’
They quietly slipped down from the sky, through the domed roof of the grand ballroom and touché down onto the polished floor. None of the workers looked up from their tasks.
‘They won’t see us,’ she said, ‘I pulled you apart from them, just as I am. They will never know we were here.’
He gave her a smile. ‘That’s the same ideal that the Agency strives for, my Lady.’
‘Yet you can’t help but make a mark,’ she said, ‘you want to be remembered, it’s no great evil.’
‘As you say, my Lady.’
‘Ask,’ she said.
He looked away, taking in the splendour of the in-progress decorations. ‘Just because I have questions,’ he said, ‘does not mean I need them answered. It’s not my place to ask, and it’s not my place to know.’
‘Ask,’ she said again, ‘I will only give you the answers I can, and it will remove the weight from your mind.’
‘I just need to know if she’ll survive,’ he said. ‘Or if I’ll lose her.’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘There are so many tiny factors in each day, in each action. Of what I know, of what my sister has told me, it’s unlikely that the red will consume her heart before this is over, one way or another. In some worlds, your people interfere, take her heart away and you lose her that way. In some worlds, you fail, and you run here, and live out your days as people, not as agents, in some, the world wins, but she loses. I don’t’ know what is your likely outcome, all I can suggest, angel, is for you to do as you always do.’
‘And that is what, my Lady?’
‘Your best, Ryan, do your best.’
The Morning of the Gala
Curt let himself smile.
He felt warmth and softness under his hand. Bare, smooth skin.
It was a tame fantasy, compared to how his dreams could get. Stef staring at him, his hand on her chest. Very tame, compared to dreams of making love until they were burned by phoenix fire, or-
There was something wrong.
He blinked. He licked his lips.
He could hear the tiny rustles of the sheet. He could feel the grit in the corners of his eyes. He could feel her. Really feel her.
‘Stef?’
‘Mm?’
‘I’m not dreaming, am I?’
She pinched the hand touching her chest, then raised an eyebrow. ‘Am I usually naked in your dreams?’
He lifted the sheet, and saw her familiar pyjama bottoms.
‘So sue me,’ she said, ‘I rounded up from half, answer the question, am I usually naked in your dreams?’
He felt his face flush. ‘Sometimes?’
‘Is the real thing disappointing? I mean, they’re not very impressive droids. And neither of them are fluent in six million forms of communication.’
He tried to pull his hand away from her chest, but she caught his wrist and held it there. ‘What’s going on, newbie?’
‘You were sleep-groping again.’
Guilt swelled as he tried to pull his hand away. ‘I’m sorry!’
She stroked the back of his hand with two fingers. ‘It’s you, so I tried not to be scared, but I was a bit anyway. So I tried to shove your hand away. But you’re persistent, and I’m apathetic, so I let you touch me.’
‘Oh gods, Stef-‘
‘And then you were touching me. And it wasn’t- It was just touch. And then it wasn’t scary anymore.’ A real, if nervous, smile. ‘I’m not scared, Curt.’
He relaxed his hand, and let her lay it against her left breast. He kept the contact as light as he could, his thumb lying over the collection of scars where her breastbone should have been.
‘And you just decided to take your top off?’ he asked, watching her breathe, watching for any sign that she wanted him to remove him hand.
She took in a deep breath, her chest swelling against his hand, then licked her lips. ‘It didn’t seem like much of a leap if I was wearing clothes.’
‘Are you ok, Stef?’
She gave him a tiny nod, strands of hair falling across her face. ‘But I don’t know what to do next.’
‘You took a big step, newbie, are you sure that you don’t want to just leave it as this for today?’
‘I’ll stop you when I get scared.’
‘What would you like me to do?’
‘I- I trust you,’ she said, ‘and stick to what’s nekkid for now, but anything that’s naked is far game, unless I get scared. And start out with the-’
‘I’ll be gentle, I swear,’ he said. ‘Now, are you sure?’
‘I am.’
He leaned down and kissed her, quick, chaste kisses, as had been the standard since confessing his feelings. Giant leaps also had to have small steps. He gave her one more quick, chaste kiss, then brushed her hair behind her ear. ‘All you have to do is say stop.’
‘I know.’
He kissed her again, this time, opening his lips a little. She stiffened at the new sensation, but didn’t pull away. He flicked his tongue across her lips, then pulled away. ‘You ok?’
She gave him a small nod.
He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at her. Down, against the mattress, down, where she wasn’t in a position of power. Unequal, at a disadvantage, as she was too much of the time.
He gave a small shake of his head, and sat up, requiring a strong wall of pillows behind him. ‘Come here, Stef.’
‘But I thought-’ she said as she rolled onto her back, exposing herself, offering herself. ‘Isn’t this how-?’
He gently grabbed for her hands. ‘Come here, Stef.’ She slowly sat, the blanket coming away from her sensible pyjama bottoms. ‘Don’t be scared.’ He tugged on her hands. ‘I always get your lap,’ he said, ‘time to return the favour.’
She hesitated for a a moment, and he let her hands go.
She knelt on the bed and folded her hands in her lap. ‘Are you- Are you doing it this way because I’m me, is this-’
He leaned forward, cupped a hand under her chin and caught her unsure gaze. ‘Do you have any idea how unfathomably sexy it is to be straddled by the woman you love?’
She put the heel of her hand to her mouth for a moment, then climbed atop him, her chest pushing against his, the warmth of her body soaking through his shirt.
She settled against his lap and smiled. ‘I never thought I’d ever, ever do this. I never thought that I wouldn’t be scared.’
He found her hands and held them tight. ‘I’ll never hurt you. I swear, by whatever you want me to swear by, that I’ll never, ever hurt you.’
She shook her head, and wrapped her hands around his neck. ‘That’s stupid.’
‘Stupid how, newbie?’
‘If we were in a collapsing building, and my legs were trapped under rubble, would you cut my legs off or let me get squished to death?’
He pulled her closer, feeling her alive in his arms, and waited for the wave of memory to pass. ‘Don’t forget I had to watch a building fall on you, and I couldn’t do a damn thing.’
She moved against him, pressing her chest harder against his. ‘Phoenix situations don’t count. But it’s stupid to promise to never hurt me.’
‘I’ve hurt you enough, Stef. I can’t- Every damn time I touch you, I think about Russia. I think about how much I hurt you, I think about-’
She pulled away from him, grabbed his hands and lifted them to her breasts.
‘All I’m saying,’ she said as she leaned against his hands. ‘Is that maybe we should yield to Asimov on this one.’
Lust battled with grief, and he took a moment to process her words. ‘Huh?’ he asked at last.
She tapped a finger against his chest. ‘First Law: Curt may not injure his newbie or, through inaction, allow his newbie to come to harm.’
‘I can do that.’
She tapped another finger against hist chest. ‘Second Law: Curt must obey the orders given to him by the Agency, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.’
Three fingers stroked against his chest now. ‘Third Law: Curt must protect himself at all costs.’
‘That isn’t how the last one goes.’
‘My rules, padawan.’
‘Third Law,’ he said, ‘Say it right.’
‘Curt must protect his own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Laws.’
‘Yes ma’am,’ he said.
‘That established,’ she said. ‘Um? Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. If I wrecked the mood or whatever, you can-’
He squeezed his hands a little, and her mouth immediately closed. ‘I’ll do my best never to hurt you in any way, Stef, and I mean that. Now, if you want to put your shirt back on, I’m ok with that.’
She brought herself level with his eyes, and blue eyes stared into his. ‘You’re a good man, and I trust you.’
“I trust you” slid into him as deeply as “I love you” as much as “I forgive you”. He blinked back tears and kissed her again, this time, teasing her lips apart by just a fraction, then moving to kiss his way along her jaw, then down her throat.
He moved his hands away from her barely-there breasts, and spread them across her bare back, letting them trace across the contours of her shoulders.
A sharp intake of breath was more than he expected.
‘Good,’ he asked as he paused his hands, ‘or bad?’
‘Good,’ she said, looking confused, ‘I think?’
He scraped her shoulder blades with the backs of his short nails and she gave a small yelp, and rocked against him, assisting the blood flow to his groin. He moved his fingers in small circles, enjoying the tiny, surprised sounds of pleasure.
‘Is-’ she started. ‘Is that supposed to happen? I mean, I’m not trying to be- If I’m doing the wrong thing, just tell me. I don’t know if I’m supposed to be quiet, I can hit my mute button if you like. I-’
‘If you like what I’m doing, then there’s no wrong reaction, all right? Nothing you can do right now is wrong. And don’t you dare hit your mute button,’ he said. ‘Just enjoy yourself and give me direction if you so wish.’
She leaned her forehead against his and nodded. ‘Okies,’ she said. ‘Unpause. Resume.’
He moved his hands slowly down her back, fluttering over the few scars on her back, then skating down her sides, which had far more of a reaction than her shoulders. Tiny sounds of pleasure became louder, and she pushed herself against him with every movement he made.
He was hard. A tiny, base part of him wanted to ask her to let him make love to her, but it was drowned out by logic and the complete need to focus on her, to give her the best of him, and to reward her leap of faith.
His hands skated across her stomach, keeping clear of the top of her pyjama pants.
She mumbled something, and he looked up to her. ‘Louder, newbie?’
‘You’ve seen them before,’ she said, the words tumbling out, still barely more than a mumble. ‘But it’s different now. Different context. Sexy context. Do- My scars. Are- Are you ok with them?’
He pressed on the small of her back, drawing her body up and closer to him, and ran the tip of his tongue across the scars between her breasts. She gave a surprised “oh” and went a little limp in his arms.
He held her for a moment, hands flat against her back. ‘All you have to do is tell me to stop.’
‘I know,’ she said, anchoring her hands around his neck. ‘And I haven’t told you to stop.’
He let out a long breath against her chest, then pressed his hand to her right breast. He slowly traced his fingers around the ever-so-slight curve, then allowed his index finger to rest against her nipple.
Her breath slowed, her thighs tightening on him just a little.
‘Do you want me to stop?’
Her eyes slid closed. ‘No.’
He depressed it, enjoying the sound of her breath catching, then gently brought his thumb to rest against it. With the slowest, most careful of movements, he slowly drew it between his fingers and pinched it.
She shrieked and thrust herself against him, forcing him back into the solid wall of pillows.
‘Careful,’ she whimpered, ‘slowly, gods, please, slowly.’
‘I promise.’
She relaxed a little, her breath as ragged as if he’d already brought her to orgasm, then swallowed and gave him a nod.
He slowly teased the nipple, her movements against him bringing him closer and closer to coming himself. She flailed as he lowered his mouth and slowly kissed the small, hard nipple.
Her hands grabbed fistfuls of his hair, her body leaning away from him, inadvertently bringing her closer to his mouth. He held her with both hands, and took her into his mouth.
She ground against him, and he came hard as she moaned. He rocked himself against her, allowing himself only an exhalation as he spent himself against his boxers. His switched to her other breast, and her breaths grew deeper, until she collapsed limply in his arms, head against his chest.
He wrapped his arms and held her tightly. She wrapped his arms around her neck and drew herself up to kiss his cheek before sliding from his arms to lie on the bed beside him. ‘W- W- Was that supposed to happen?’
A thought replaced his boxers to hide the stain. ‘You all right?’
She pulled one of the pillows from behind him and clutched it tightly to her chest. ‘Earth-shattering kaboom? Was that supposed to happen?’
A grin split his face. ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘when it’s done right.’
She clutched the pillow tighter. ‘So- So that’s- What was that? Was that easy-mode sex?’
He required away the majority of his pillows, and laid down beside her. ‘If you’re sensitive enough, you can-’ He searched for a word. ‘You can overload on pretty much any part of your body. The least of sex is what goes on between your legs.’ She blushed, and he cupped her face. ‘This is big, you sure you’re ok?’
She pushed the pillow away, pulled herself closer and rested against his chest. ‘Arms,’ she said, and he complied, holding her tightly. ‘I’m still- Still processing, but I’m ok. I- But what about you?’
A smile crept onto his lips. ‘We both overloaded Stef, trust me, I’m good.’
She mumbled her love for him, and began to snore after a moment.
The Morning of the Gala
One hour, forty-one minutes since overload.
Her HUD clock ticked over. One hour, forty-two minutes since overload.
She’d slept for a little under half an hour, nothing more than a tiny break to reset her, to let her deal with the overwhelming set of new data. New data, new sensations, new realisations.
Her body had normalised itself, just like after a spar, just like after a fight, sensitive, reddened skin becoming pasty and monitor bleached while she slept. Her body had normalised, her mind hadn’t.
They’d talked…he’d talked and she’d made small noises and motions with her head to confirm that she was ok, that she was happy, and that she didn’t regret it. For the assumed percentage of the internet dedicated to stuff like this, she couldn’t find words to fit her mouth to describe it.
So simple, so complicated. Feeling normal. Feeling abnormal/ State change, it was definitely a state change. Scary, and not scary.
Grown up.
…but I’m not sure I’m ready.
If you’ll ever listen to me or anyone else, you don’t have to grow up all at once, Spyder.
But this-
It happened, do you regret it?
No.
Did you enjoy it?
I really did. I- I thought I didn’t like this stuff. I thought I couldn’t like this stuff. But I liked it. And I don’t know if that makes me bad. And I don’t know if that makes me wrong. And I made noises. And I think maybe I should feel like-
Finish that sentence so we can destroy the thought.
I don’t want to.
Say it, Spyder.
Shouldn’t I feel like a slut for enjoying it?
We should crowdsource an answer for this one.
Oh don’t you dare!
Dare what, Spyder?
I’m not going to tell him- ‘-that I feel like a slut!’ She clapped her hands over her mouth. ‘Oh you-‘ You fucking rotten bastard! You-! You-! She pushed herself out of the bed, walked to the wall, and thunked her head against it. You ruin everything! You ruin everything!
You’re welcome, Spyder.
She slid to her knees, still facing the wall. I hate you.
I’m not the only one you can rely on anymore.
A hand touched her bare back. Bare back. She still hadn’t bothered to put a shirt back on.
Curt slid down the wall beside her, facing her. ‘Hey newbie.’
‘Sorry.’
‘You don’t need to apologise.’
‘But I just did something stupid again.’
He leaned close, and kissed her temple. ‘We can’t fix stupid if it’s locked up in your head.’
She slowly turned and leaned against the wall beside him. ‘I just always-‘ She drew her knees up to her exposed chest. ‘Most of what I know about sex is second or third hand. Or things I’ve misinterpreted. Or stuff I’ve half-understood and then gotten the wrong impression of. I haven’t wanted to know. I’m still not sure I want to know. I liked that. I really liked that. But I’m not sure I’m allowed to.’
‘Because you’re either a virgin or a whore?’
‘Something like that.’
He smiled, and handed her a cookie. ‘You sometimes want to be normal, mark this in your calendar as one of those days. I mean, not normal for everyone, but you’re definitely not the only person to feel like this.’
She bit into the cookie, then brushed crumbs off her chest, before requiring herself into a loose black-shirt-with-white-writing. ‘So I get be normal for something crappy, that’s even worse.’
He scootred around to sit in front of her. ‘I’ll give you the-‘ His small dictionary appeared in his hand. ‘The TL;DR version of it, as best I can, ok?’
She gave a shrug.
‘Girls and sex is kind of a messy thing,’ he said. ‘Girls don’t masturbate, the female overload is a myth, all this kind of crap. And you probably would have gotten some of that, if only third-hand.’
‘I tried to masturbate,’ she said.
‘Huh?’
‘In high school. There was a lot of girls who had boyfriends, so I had to hear them talk about sex, even if I didn’t want to. It’s impossible to- I was a lot less good at blocking the whole world out back then. They all made it seem like sex was so normal, and I knew I wasn’t, but thought I’d try. ‘
‘And?’
‘I was scientific, I tried three times. It didn’t- I could- I could feel what I was doing, but it didn’t feel like anything. No different to poking my hand.. And that’s why I think I can’t- What if I can’t for you?’
‘We’ll figure out everything as we go, Stef.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘Just trust me, ok?’
‘But you-‘ She hugged her knees tighter. ‘I liked that. And it was all for me. And what about you?’
‘If you think I got nothing out of that, then you’re crazier than you thought.’
She pried her knees away a little and touched a hand to her chest. ‘But- Droids- It was-‘
‘I had a half-naked hacker girl grinding herself against me,’ he said. ‘Making the most adorable little sexy noises. And the insane ego boost of giving you your first overload.’
‘But I’ve got no idea what I’m doing.’
He smirked. ‘That means you don’t know what I’m doing wrong.’
‘That was wrong?’
He shrugged. ‘That’s really up to you to decide. If it works for you, then it’s not wrong. The majority of people I’ve slept with have been professionals, so not a lot of complaints.’ He shrugged. ‘My ex used to bitch at me when we fought. How I was no good, how my dick wasn’t as big as some of the other guys she’d slept with, how she had to fake it.’ He shrugged again. ‘It’s a miracle we were together as long as we were. If I hadn’t gotten her pregnant, I doubt we would have lasted half as long as we did.’
‘You wouldn’t be here,’ she said, ‘if you hadn’t gotten her pregnant.’
‘Is that one of those “everything happens for a reason” things?’
‘If you think I believe in fate,’ she said, ‘you don’t know me at all. It’s just one of those things. One tiny little thing made such a difference. Well, microscopic in your case, One sperm and you have a baby. Baby equals joining a paramilitary cult, Solstice equals recruitment, recruitment equals getting stuck with me.’ For me, I’d say it’s one or two seconds. One or two seconds either way and the truck would have missed us, and I wouldn’t be a scarred mess.’ She pushed a hand under her shirt and touched the scars. ‘But if not for them, I wouldn’t be here. It’s not destiny, it’s just ripples. If it was destiny, then nothing could stop it. Think about how many damn things could have stopped us from getting here, and probably did in parallel universes.’
‘Do you like where we are in this universe?’
‘I has a boy. I has a happy. I- I’m finally starting to feel like a person for the first time in my life.’ She pushed her hand higher and laid it over her rapidly diminishing heart. ‘I just hope I can last through this.’
‘We’ll find the blue phoenix, we will.’
She bit her lip. ‘Promise me something?’
‘Nearly anything, newbie.’
‘Maybe I’ve been misled by the princess movies, but aren’t you supposed to agree to anything?’
‘You’re not a princess, newbie, and I’m not a cardboard cut-out. For the number of things that come out your mouth every day that terrify me, I reserve the right to only go to “nearly anything”.’
‘…ok, that’s fair.’
‘Tell me if I change.’
‘What?’
‘I don’t know how mirror magic works, but if it makes sense at all, I think it’ll take me apart piecemeal before killing me. Maybe take my memories, or my personality, wipe out bits of me before the whole disappears. I want you to tell me when that happens so you don’t have to force yourself to love me if I’ve changed. Unless you like the new me better, then feel free to keep your mouth shut.’
He sighed. ‘I promise.’
She pulled her hand from her shirt and laced her fingers together, staring at the intertwined flesh for a moment. ‘We got off topic.’
‘Which is completely normal,’ he said. ‘Shall I continue?’
She rested her chin on her knees, and nodded.
‘Again,’ he said, ‘trying to keep this TL;DR. Girls just get a rougher time of it than guys do, cause of all those reasons relating to patriarchy and whatnot. A guy gets a high five, a girl gets a walk of shame. A guy sleeps with five chicks, he’s a star; a girl sleeps with five guys and she’s a slut... it’s stupid and it’s not fair.’
‘So I-‘
‘You have no reason to ever feel ashamed of doing anything that makes you feel good – unless it hurts someone else – ever, all right?’
‘Even sex?’
‘Especially sex. Sex is private, so the only two opinions that matter are your partner’s and your own. And I for one, respect you, so I’m never going to make you feel ashamed about anything you do or don’t do, all right?’
‘…I did like it.’
He kissed her cheek. ‘And that’s all you have to worry about.’
Ask him.
But- Okies.
‘To-tonight after the gala,’ she said. ‘And I still refuse to believe I’m getting a stupid gala. Tonight. What if we go back to-‘ Her cheeks burned. ‘it’s stupid. And I don’t even know how to ask. And I’m scared. But if I’m getting a stupid gala then it’s means it’s my day, and I don’t know if I’m going to live to either of our birthdays and it should-‘
‘You’re not ready. We can go back to my place, and we can cuddle and make out and even do something like what we just did. There’s plenty I can with just your shirt off. I know what you’re trying to say, I do, and if you were nearly anyone else, it would be a great idea. But you’re not ready, so let’s just go for some topless overloads before we try anything else, ok? And you sure as hell are going to make it to your next birthday, and mine, and for a lot more after that.’
‘But if it noms me all gone…’
‘I won’t let it.’
‘You-‘
‘I won’t let it.’ He put a crooked finger under her chin. ‘I’m going to look after you. Even if that means saving you from doing the right thing.’
She sighed, and leaned against him. ‘You sure?’
‘Tonight will be great, I promise.’
[Come see me before the meeting?]
Stef put a hand out to stop Curt from opening the door to the conference room, turned her hand and grabbed his shirt, then shifted them both to Ryan’s office.
‘You rang?’ she said, giving a less-than-convincing impression of Lurch.
‘I just wanted to warn you,’ Ryan said as he rose from behind his desk, ‘and to ask your forgiveness.’
She shrugged. ‘I always forgive you. For everything. So you’ve got it. So what did you do?’
‘You gave me the remaining tickets to distribute. I have a date, I invited Patty and Magic Mike, I’ve got a special guest coming, and-‘ He paused. ‘And I invited Clarke.’
She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to whinge like a four-year-old until he made it not true. She stared at him for a moment, let her shoulders slump and hung her head. ‘Okies.’
‘Do I get a chance to explain myself?’
‘Do you have at least a dozen of Magic Mike’s sessa cream tarts?’
‘Baker’s dozen,’ he said, and pulled the bag from under his desk. He pulled open the bag and let her nom on three of the tiny tarts before talking. ‘He apologised to me,’ he said. ‘I don’t believe it for a second, but it’ a nice effort to restore civility. That alone, however, wouldn’t do it. Tonight is about you, Stef,’ Ryan said as he looked down at her. ‘But there’s also going to be a lot of Agency questions. I don’t want you to waste your time answering the same questions over and over when you should just be enjoying yourself.’
‘He’s my FAQ bitch?’
‘In essence, I believe so.’
She un-slumped her shoulders just a bit. ‘Ok, maybe I can handle that.’
She nommed on another small tart, then offered the bag back to him. ‘Want one?’
‘No, thank you.’ A talking-in-his-HUD look cross his face. ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ he said, then shifted way.
She turned, grabbed Curt’s arm, then shifted them both to the conference room. Mags and Taylor were there, and Grigori was deep in conversation with the fairy at the head of the table. Deep, flirty conversation probably. Poor fairy.
She sat in her usual chair and required a coffee.
‘Mimosa?’
She took a swig of coffee, then looked across to Mags. ‘Yeah?’
Magnolia stared at her for a moment. ‘Huh. You look like you’ve been thoroughly fucked.’ She spat her coffee across the table as Magnolia turned to Curt. ‘Well done, O’Connor.’ She turned back. ‘Are there any tickets left?’
She required a napkin and wiped the dribbles of coffee from her chin, popping a /serious as she felt her cheeks start to burn. ‘Huh?’
‘Tickets. Are there any tickets left?’
‘I’ve got no fscking clue, ask Ryan.’
‘If I may,’ the fairy said, ‘There’s two tickets with no names assigned to it, unless that’s changed in the last six hours. Rier Myel, Agent Mimosa, I’m here to organise tonight for you.’
Magnolia gave her a questioning look.
‘Geeze, gimme a minute.’ [Hey?]
Ryan’s face appeared in her HUD. [Yes?]
[Are there still free tickets?]
[Yes. Hold our your hands.]
She did, and the tickets appeared there. [Thanks.] She held up the ticket. ‘Yeah, there’s two left.’
‘Are you planning on using them?’
‘Is that how you ask nicely?’
‘I want to invite Arshan Yo.’
‘I repeat: Is that how you ask nicely?’
‘You three earned yours, I’ve got no reason to be gracious beyond that.’
Magnolia leaned forward, placing her elbows on the conference table. ‘You’re not using them.’
Rier turned away from Grigori, a horrified look on her face.
‘What?’ she asked, squirming in her seat as the fairy looked from Mags to her and back again.
‘I apologise,’ the woman stuttered. ‘I’m not used to seeing people disrespect the guest of honour like this.’
She smirked. ‘You think this is disrespect? This is still in the top five most civil conversations I’ve had with her.’ She upturned her coffee cup and the liquid ate through the glass of the conference table. ‘Truce or not, old habits die hard.’
Rier looked paler than she did, her eyes wide as cookies as she watched the acid drip onto the floor. ‘Do you want them struck from the guest list, Agent Mimosa?’
‘No, but I reserve the right to do it later.’ She opened the room controls in her HUD and ran the cleaning macro, the table healing itself with a quick schop and the carpet repairing itself with a soft ripple.
Magnolia glared. ‘Please?’
‘Oh, fine, whatever.’ She pushed a ticket across the table. ‘You’re back to owing me.’
‘Everyone in the world owes you,’ the fairy said.
Only outside of these walls.
Curt’s hand squeezed hers. ‘Any ideas for the last ticket?’
She shook her head and required a new coffee.
Ryan walked in, a pretty redhead beside him, Patty and Magic Mike following close behind. She pushed herself up from her chair and let Patty and Magic Mike give her quick hugs. Magic Mike grinned as he saw the bag of tarts on the table, then produced a bag of cookies from within his leather satchel. She took the cookies and placed them on the table, then directed them to chairs away from Taylor and Magnolia.
‘Hello, dear one.’
She spun, nearly falling over her own feet to look at the owner of the voice. ‘Captain?!’
Hook, resplendent in clothes even more fancy and regal than his usual attire, removed his hat and bowed low to her.
She looked from the pirate to her angel, then back again. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re nominating the Lost as your charity,’ Ryan said, ‘I thought it would be a good idea to invite a representative or two.’
Hook rose, embraced her, then handed her a package. ‘Save it until after the meeting, I’ll explain it then.’ He put a strong hand on Curt’s shoulder as he passed. ‘And I want to talk to you later, young man.’ Then he sat across from Taylor, and removed his pipe from his jacket.
Curt turned to her. ‘Is he going to make me walk the plank?’
‘Don’t be silly, he’ll run you through and tithe you to Tick Tock.’
‘Remember that thing about body armour?’
She grinned.
Ryan and the redhead found empty seats and the fairy at the head of the table looked around. ‘Are we almost ready to start?;
‘I’ll need a few minutes,’ Magnolia said as she stood and left the room.
‘Well, I’m here,’ Clarke said from the back of the room.
She spun on her chair, hands folded supervillain-style. ‘Let’s lay some ground rules for tonight,’ she said as she stared at Clarke. ‘You are there to be my FAQ bitch. As soon as I tell you to leave, you leave. And you-‘
‘I’m sorry,’ Clarke said, cutting her off. ‘Agent Mimosa, I’m sorry.’
‘Lolwut?’
Clarke rounded the table and knelt on one knee in front of her. ‘You have to understand. I was acting for my duty when I offered-‘ he paused for a moment. ‘When I offered the bastard his deal. We are all slaves to our duty, myself no less than the rest of you, and my duty puts the Agency first, rather than my colleagues. I don’t serve this city, and I don’t serve this Agency, to my blue, my duty is to the Agency overall. And to that duty, a resource of his calibre was not to be missed, no matter his crimes.’
‘You still fucked up,’ she said, ‘if you’d taken five more minutes to go over his damn contract-‘
‘All I can do is ask forgiveness for my arrogance and my haste.’
‘You let the man who murdered me go free.’
‘You let the man who tortured you into your bed.’
She recoiled from him, pushing herself further into her leather chair, shocked still by the emotional sucker punch.
Others, however, weren’t so immobile.
She watched as Clarke was yanked backward and halfway to standing, a cruel, beautiful silver hook neatly around his throat, ready to puncture him at the first sign of movement. A second later, a cocked, ornate pistol was pressed to his head.
She heard Ryan, his voice in full and scary narc-mode, screaming at Clarke, but individual words escaped comprehension. A wall of sound. A wall of protective sound, defending her honour.
Clarke disappeared from Hook’s grasp and appeared at the head of the table, behind the beyond-shocked fairy. She jumped in her seat as Hook’s gun fired, putting a hole in the wall near Clarke. Pirate weapons – beautiful, but far from accurate.
Ryan stormed towards him, but Clarke raised his hand in surrender. ‘If I can explain myself!’ the liaison agent said loudly, above the cacophony of sound. ‘If I can explain myself!’ Clarke shouted again.
‘Explain,’ Ryan said, his voice impressively Taylorish. ‘Explain yourself.’
Clarke straightened his jacket, took a quick look at the hole in the wall, then looked up at the sound of Hook reloading his gun.
‘To forgive him-‘ Clarke started.
Oh, go on Spyder, you know you want to.
She stood, unsteady on her feet for just a second before rage and agenty programming made her stand straight. ‘I never had to forgive him!’ she snapped. ‘He did what he had to do to save my damn life!’
‘And mine,’ Grigori said from his seat.
‘You’d do well to shut your mouth,’ she snapped at the Russian. ‘The fact that it happened at all is your fault.’ She turned back to Clarke. ‘I don’t accept your apology. I don’t. I don’t! And if you ever dare equate what you did to what he did again, I’ll wish you were never born.’
The room went silent.
‘It’s a sad thing that I have to think “oh fuck, the asshole is coming to my gala” and I’m not talking about one of them!’ she said, thrusting an arm at the people with room’s highest kill counts. ‘You can come tonight. Ryan invited you and I don’t second guess him. You’re there to be my bitch, and only to be my bitch. You’re dismissed. Someone who gives more of a shit than I do can PM you your arrangements for tonight.’
‘Don’t you-‘
‘I think she said you were dismissed,’ Ryan said.
‘Oh, fuck the lot of you,’ Clarke said, and shifted away.
‘Someone call the Parkers,’ Magnolia said from the doors, ‘I think Mimosa just grew a spine.’
Oh, please, please, please, let the Agency carpet eat me,
She sat down, slowly, every set of eyes in the room on her. She folded her hands, and stared down into her lap.
A glass clinked on the table in front of her. ‘Drink that,’ Grigori said, ‘you look like you’re going to pass out.’
She kept staring at her hands, and slowly hugged herself.
‘Everyone in this room who knows that douche has wanted to do the same,’ Grigori said. ‘I don’t even have to work with him and I’d gladly throw him at a frost giant.’ He lifted the glass and clinked it down again. ‘Drink.’
She shook her head.
‘He opposed your experiment.’ Ryan’s voice. She slowly looked up. ‘He didn’t want you here, Stef. If he’d gotten his way, none of us would be here right now. He didn’t want Curt here. He wanted to brand those two as traitors. He despises Grigori’s rule of Russia, and he didn’t want me as interim Director. He isn’t part of this Agency. We have to work with him, that’s true, but we don’t have to like him. Civility, really, is all we can hope for. He’ll get over this, he’s gotten over worse.’
‘Might I suggest a five-minute break?’ the fairy said.
‘Fifteen,’ Ryan said. ‘Magnolia, can you take the non-Agency staff to the guest lounge?’
‘Yes.’ Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the magpie stand. ‘All of you, this way.’
Grigori clinked the glass one more time. ‘Drink.’
‘You still owe me a fuzzy hat.’
A warm, fuzzy hat was dropped onto her head, and she finally uncurled her arm to grab the glass. She downed the vodka and choked. ‘Gods, why did you require the cheap stuff?’
‘It’s what I like.’ The glass refilled. ‘One more.’
‘Grigori.’ Taylor's voice, from the door.
‘Fine, fine,’ Grigori said, then left the room.
She heard the conference room door close, and she let out a long breath.
‘No one has ever stood up for me like that before.’ Curt’s voice. Timid. Awestruck.
She looked across at him. ‘Nobody gets to insult my padawan.’
‘Still,’ Curt said as he grasped her hands. ‘You’re amazing.’
She pulled her hands away. ‘Sorry.’ She hugged herself again. ‘Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean to. Sorry. He’s an arse. Sorry. I just- He- Sorry. I didn’t mean to.’
Ryan’s strong arms picked her up and held her. ‘You’ve got nothing to apologise for.’
‘But I do,’ she said as she shifted out of his grip and sat back down. ‘Like you said, we have to be civil with him. I didn’t exactly make it easy to be civil.’
‘I’ve wanted to say worse things to him a hundred times over.’
‘Yeah, but you’re sensible, you didn’t.’
‘No, but others have, you should have seen some of the arguments that Clarke used to have with Samuels.’
‘With who?’
‘The tech we had before Jones. He and Clarke never saw eye to eye on any subject.’
‘Why didn’t I know this? Ok, for Cookiemas this year, can I has the secret history of the Brisbane Agency so I can actually know everything? What happened to him?’
‘Unlike Jones, Samuels used to occasionally go out into the field for some minor things. We had incorrect information. There was a blackout and Samuels died.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Please stop apologising,’ Ryan said, and gently kissed the top of her head. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong.’
She ground her foot into the carpet – maybe if she enraged it, it would eat her. ‘It always damn well feels like I’ve done something wrong.’
‘Don’t say that on your day,’ Curt said. ‘Today of all days is proof that isn’t true.’
‘It’s too late to cancel this stupid thing, isn’t it?’
‘You’re not cancelling your gala because of some douchebag,’ Curt said. ‘Tonight is going to be great.’
She shrugged.
Ryan held a hand down to her. ‘Come on. We’ll have this meeting in the lounge.’
She squirmed in her chair. ‘Do I even have to be there?’
Curt gently pulled on her hand. ‘Come on, newbie, it’ll be fine.’
She looked from padawan to angel, then down her feet. ‘It amazes me how you two think everything will always be fine.’
She stood, and let them walk down the short way to the guest lounge. A guest longue that hadn’t been there an hour beforehand – meetings so rarely contained personnel external to the Agency that it wasn’t practical to keep the room there on a permanent basis. Anyone who worked for the Agency, it seemed, could make do with hanging out in the conference room.
Curt pushed open the wide double doors to the guest lounge, opening to a room half the size of field’s gym, a well-stocked bar at one end, a loose circle of leather couches at the other end.
Magic Mike stood behind the bar, twirling bottles like a professional, being egged on by Grigori, Patty watching contentedly, sipping on a small drink. Rier sat nursing a much, much larger drink.
Taylor and Magnolia sat opposite each other. Magnolia talking with the fairy that had to be her dressmaker, Taylor just staring blankly.
Her Captain and the redhead stood speaking near the wall of windows, looking down onto the city.
Ryan went to the fairy, and she lifted an elbow and nudged Curt in the ribs. ‘Want to meet Hook properly?’
‘How likely is it that he’ll feed me to the crocodile?’
‘You’re good to me, you should be safe.’
Hook smiled as she approached and the redhead walked off towards the bar.
‘Dear one, you should introduce me to your young man.’
‘Didn’t Ryan tell you everything?’
‘Your angel told me nothing, dear one,’ Hook said as he finally lit his pipe. ‘Everything I know of him, I know from Vink.’
‘What’s a Vink?’
Hook pointed with his pipe, and she followed his gaze to the redhead.
The redhead who was giggling with Ryan.
‘Oh. Oooh. Is she his plus one?’
‘That would seem to be the case.’
She required a couch, and a plush red chair for her Captain, and they sat. Hook stared intently at Curt. ‘You know who I am, of course.’
‘Scourge of Neverland and her imaginary friend from the Lost.’
Hook nodded. ‘Whether or not she’s Found is of no concern, I want to know she’s being cared for.’ The pirate turned forget-me-not blue eyes on her. ‘Does he look after you?’
‘He does.’
‘Where’s that package I brought?’
She held up her hands and shifted the present from the conference room. ‘This one?’
‘Open it.’
She opened it, revealing a dusty bottle of wine. ‘Between you and Grigori,’ she said, ‘I’m seriously starting to think people want me drunk tonight.’
‘This is very, very special,’ Hook said. ‘I’d be willing to wager you’ve never seen anything like it.’
She gently rubbed her sleeve over the dust, exposing the grey label. The label had a painting of an indistinct, ghostly creature, and faded letters that even agenty eyes had trouble reading. She gave up, and looked to her Captain.
‘Have you heard of the Ashreaders, dear one?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m still playing catch up.’
He blew a smoke ring. ‘They are follies, creatures with no true substance. Some people acknowledge their existence, but call them unreal, since they are hidden away, and make no impact on the world. They are, in their own way, a counterpoint to story thieves. Ashreaders are also sustained by words, but they have none of the negative effect that thieves can have. They subsist on words, though they live for words that are never seen by anyone else. Mistakes and first drafts, a wrong word that is erased as it is noticed. They will have discussions for years about the possible implications of a single letter out of place.’
‘So there’s a race of fanboying, nitpicky, fae that thrive on imperfection?’
‘That’s the least romantic way I’ve ever heard them described. Most people are intrigued.’
‘Captain, you’ve managed to make me paranoid about typos. And I’m not even sure it’s possible for an agent to typo.’
Curt leaned close to her. ‘Newbie, you speak fluent lolcat, you can typo all you want.’
‘It’s hard for them to intrude onto this plane, because they so fundamentally lack substance. Communication, can be achieved though, and through efforts that would take far too much effort to describe, we can feel a thousandth of what they feel. We can distill their remembrances of watching words form and reform. Distill, and add them to wine, most commonly. I think you’ll appreciate this bottle.’
He gently pulled it out of her hands, wiped away more of the dust, and three initials became clear: J.M.B.
‘Ca-captain, is this-?’
‘One of the few bottled memories of Barrie remaining. I also could have sourced Lewis, but your heart has always been in Neverland, not in Narnia.’
She stared reverently at the bottle. ‘Shouldn’t it go to a scholar or something? A historian, or-‘
‘Or the girl who saved the world, dear one? It’s just a token, it’s far less than you deserve, and far less of a thank you than we should provide for you naming the Lost your charity. It is the most your Captain can do, and I hope it’s enough.’
She stood quickly, and hugged her Captain tightly, his black curls tickling her skin. ‘I wouldn’t have made it here without you, Captain.’
She pulled away and sat back down.
He gave her a sad look. ‘I did far less than you needed, but I did all that I could.’
She shrugged, feeling the necklace chain against her neck. ‘And everything has pretty much worked out for the best.’
Ryan came over with Rier. ‘We’ve worked out the limousine arrangements for tonight,’ he said. ‘Unless you’d like to change anything.’
She required a couch, and he sat, the fairy standing at attention.
She looked between Ryan and the fairy. ‘You can sit too, you know.’
Rier sat quickly. ‘Thank you, Agent Mimosa.’
[it’s weird to be called Agent without you giving me a lecture,] she said to Ryan.
A tiny screenshot of his HUD appeared in the text window. [I have several prepared speeches if it would make you feel better.]
[You do not!]
He smiled in the video window, the image at odds with his neutral, professional expression he wore in the real world. [Of course not, those are my meeting notes.]
‘Ok, so what do we need to know?’ she said. ‘Limos will take us to the gala, there’ll be food at the gala, presumably the limos will take us home afterward?’
‘We’ve arranged rooms for you all,’ Rier said. ‘So that you don’t have to make the trip back in the same night.’
She squirmed. ‘That might work for everyone else, but I’m worse than Cinderella, my blue has a more limited timer than a regular agent, so I’ll need a limo back, or at least a bus ticket.’
Rier went pale again. ‘We’d- Bus- Bus-?‘ The fairy took a drink from her large glass.
‘it won’t be necessary,’ Ryan said.
‘Huh?’
‘Your blue won’t be an issue tonight. We’ve been granted permission to give you a thirty-six hour timer, that will be more than enough for tonight, and for the trip home tomorrow.’
‘Seriously?’
Ryan nodded. ‘I was going to tell you later.’ He looked to Rier. ‘Rooms for everyone, but everyone can make their own way home tomorrow, rather than trying to coordinate.’
Rier looked at her list. ‘There’s really only a few items to cover with you, Agent Mimosa, you’ll have attendants by your side tonight if you have further questions.’
‘I’ll have what now?’
‘Newbie, did you cancel your whores?’
‘…you were serious about that?’
‘What part of fairy gala did you fail to understand?’
Her eyes went wide as she stared at Rier. ‘Um. No attendants. Thank you.’
‘As you wish, Agent, that’s one more appointment that we can scratch off the agenda. Do you know who is providing your mask, or will you be providing your own?’
‘Mask?’
‘I’ll presume you’ve got no idea what she’s talking about,’ Magnolia said as she walked up to them.
She ground her foot against the carpet again.
She turned away from the magpie. ‘Why do I need a mask?’
‘Yo has one he’d like to offer you, if you’ve got nothing else,’ Magnolia said.
She looked at Magnolia. ‘I ask again, why do I need a mask?’
‘It’s to make being the centre of attention tolerable,’ the fairy dressmaker said as he walked up. ‘Guests of honour, royalty, Court royalty and few others are afforded the privilege. If you are wearing a mask, no one may speak to you without your permission. I can tell you from experience that it’s a magic unto itself to have the power to make everyone shut up’ He handed her a package wrapped with blue cloth and silver ribbon. ‘You declined the need for a dress, this was the least I could do.’
She undid the loose bow, and unfolded the corners of the blue fabric, exposing the mask.
She bit her lip as traced her fingers over the delicate silver mask. It was gorgeous. It was too much. She quickly required new shoes, feeling suddenly awkward and ugly. A thing that would “just do, stop wasting time” or “just stand behind the other girls” or any of the hundred tiny put downs that she’d heard at ballet, at birthdays, at any occasion where her mother had to compare her with the other, better girls. The prettier girls. The girls that weren’t’ covered in mud. The hackers that weren’t always in dirty sneakers.
She bit back on an urge to shift to Canada.
She pulled a half-strength /serious, and smiled at the fairy. ‘It’s lovely, thank you.’
Rier looked down at her tablet computer. ‘All right, there are a few things left we need to organise.’
She sat back on the couch, required a coffee, and tried to look casual as the fairy detailed the plans for the rest of the day.
Ryan stared into his HUD. [Can I come in?]
A text only message popped up a short moment later. [I'm busy. I'm doing work. You want me to do work, right?]
He put a hand to her office door, only to have a message box appear in his HUD, informing him that she'd locked it with her security code.
Another text-only message appeared. [I can hear you out there! I'm busy!]
[The more exclamation marks you use, the less likely I am to believe.] He smiled. [Let me in, Stef?]
He stepped back as a rectangle of fabric appeared nailed to the door. A small blue flag emblazoned with a white spider - itself holding a small flag. [Can I assume this is the official flag of the land of Steforia?]
[No visitors allowed.]
He overrode her security code and opened the office, he stepped inside the dark office, and closed the door behind him.
The dress was beautiful. The girl was miserable.
‘Curt told me you locked him out,’ he said as he walked across the office, to where she sat up against the wall behind her desk, knelt, then leaned against the wall beside her. 'What would you like me to say?'
She waved a tiny version of Steforia's flag. 'Well, you did just commit an act of war by invading, can we sue for peace first, I don't have the resources to start a war.'
The words were one hundred percent Stef. Wonderful nonsense. The tone was far from light or happy though. He required a handkerchief, and pressed it to her nose. 'Blow.'
'I'm fine.'
'It's my condition of suing for peace, blow.'
She pulled the handkerchief from his hand, rubbed her nose with it, then started to cry. She pushed off from the wall, fell against him, then let her head slide into his lap, and hugged his legs.
[Dammit, I was ok! I was ok! And then you wrecked it!]
He slowly leaned forward, lifted her from his lap, and wrapped his arms around her. 'You weren't fine, Stef.'
'What'd you do?' she asked, shaking the handkerchief accusingly, 'magic it? Did you magic it?'
He picked it from her hand, and wiped her face. 'Talk to me.'
'Don't wanna.'
'Yes you do.'
'I dun wannnnna!' she wailed, and hugged him tighter.
'I'd compliment your dress, but I think that's the problem.'
She stood and gave a twirl. The midnight blue fabric shone and flowed, equal to anything that was going to be on display at the gala. 'Of course it's not the problem,' she said, and gave another twirl. 'It's gorgeous.' Another twirl. ' It's wonderful.' Another twirl. ' It's so so so so so damned pretty.'
He stood, and stopped her from twirling. 'And it isn't you.'
'It's blue and it doesn't try to pretend I have boobs or make me wear a push up bra, so it's probably the best dress I've ever put on.'
'Where did it come from?'
'Mags' fairy tailor.' A hint of amusement crossed her face. 'And now I'm thinking about a fairy Taylor. And what he'd look like with wings. Yanno, fairy wings, cause I've seen him with angel wings. Do fairy wings come in arterial red?'
'But didn't Magnolia get the dress?'
'Yeah, I hope so anyway.' She tugged at the blue fabric. 'This is a required extrapolation of the design he did before I rejected the offer. So it's not as good as it could have been, but it's still gorgeous. Mags said people would kill for this dress. I don't think she was being hyperbolic. And I don't want it!'
'Then take it off, you aren't obligated to wear it.'
She grabbed the skirt, and pulled the dress roughly up over her head. She stumbled for a moment as it came away, then dropped it to the floor, leaving it as a pool of satin and beads. She leaned against her desk in her underwear and buried her face in her hands. 'I am such a fuck up. I am such a fuck up!' she went to her knees and gathered the dress up, and held it to her chest. 'Sorry, I'll- Sorry, I'll- I'll stop being an idiot. I'll be a good girl, I'll be a good girl! I didn't mean to-'
He crouched and pulled the dress from her protesting hands, stood, pulled his gun from his holster and shot the closest window before she had a chance to argue, then hurled the dress into the wind.
* * *
Stef choked, and felt her tears evaporate, replaced with sheer disbelief. She found her voice. 'Did- Did you really just do that?'
He looked down at her and required her into her uniform, then placed his gun back in his holster before reaching both hands down to her.
She ignored his hands. '...did you just shoot out my window and commit littering from a high-rise?'
He looked out the window, turned back and raised an eyebrow. 'It hasn't hit the ground yet.'
This spurred her into action, and she jumped to her feet, leaning against the frame of the shattered window, and looked down at the fluttering dress.
'It's gonna hit a bus! It's gonna hit a bus!' she shouted. The dress disappeared. 'Stupid safety net!' She turned and leaned against the frame, and started as subroutines replaced the glass. 'At least Applebaum gets something pretty to wear.' She hugged her arms around herself. 'Uniform, that feels so much better.'
'You don't have to wear a dress tonight.'
She gave him a disparaging look. 'Come on, you've been a smart, awesome dad up until now, don't ruin it by being an idiot. Of course I have to wear a dress!' She shook her feet. 'At least that dress is long enough for me to get away with wearing sneakers if I don't chicken out and go for flats, but of course I have to wear a dress!' She twirled again. 'You can't twirl in a suit! Maybe if I wore the jacket, but I don't even wear the jacket! You can't twirl in a suit, the suit won't look good in the photoshoots, and I can't walk up to the bloody king of fairies wearing the same stuff I wear every day!' She wiped her eyes. 'So of course I have to wear a dress. And you just chucked it out the window. Which was one of the coolest things I've seen ever. Ever.'
'It's your gala, Stef, you can wear what you want.'
'Liar! Liar! Liar!'
He held her. 'I very rarely lie to you, Stef. And I'm not now.'
She wiped her eyes with his tie. 'I always like when you say that. That, yanno, you acknowledge that you have to lie me sometimes. All parents do, but like, ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-nine-nine-nine percent of them say that they don't, that they wouldn't, that they'd never have to.'
'I do not enjoy the times I have to lie to you.'
'I know, and that makes it even better. And it's always for, like, Agency reasons and stuff. I get that. It's the acknowledgement that means so much. I just wish you'd acknowledge that I'm a fuck up and that I'm going to ruin this stupid gala tonight.'
'Unless you walk in and fling faeces at the attending royalty, everything will be fine.'
'You don't know I won't do that!'
'I do, and you do too.'
She gave him a small smile. 'Yeah, I suppose.'
'Shall we get your attire sorted out.'
'We're T-minus an hour and you're in your suit!'
He snapped his fingers and it was replaced with a very James-Bondish tux, and with another snap, his uniform returned. 'I've had to attend formal occasions before,' he said, 'I have a few outfits in my rotation.'
'Everything I attended was always formal,' she said as she sat on her desk, and swung her feet. 'From as soon as I was able to walk, and before, but I don't remember the before.' She tapped on her knees. 'You're so lucky, you know, and me, I'm more lucky. If what happened had been a few months before, I don't think I would have remembered it.'
'You would have,' he said, 'I'm sure of it.'
'I was excused from that, or maybe they just hoped I'd kill myself if they left me unattended for too long, but everything after that. Stupid little dresses with ribbons and hats and pinchy shoes. Smart little blouses and sensible skirts. Dresses to try and pretend that I was beautiful, back when I was young and that was still a possibility, even if I already wasn't as pretty as the other girls. I was a stumble-step behind back then, now I've been disqualified and have to sit on the bench. I'm not pretty and no dress is going to change that. I mean, I get to wear a mask, so that'll keep up the illusion for the people far away, who aren't looking too closely.' A coffee appeared in her hand and she drained it, then slammed it down on the desk. 'Can't we get the heat off me? Say we lied and that it was Mags? She is the kind of girl that was supposed to save the world. She's tall and she's so pretty and she's fae, so they're already on her side. It's what people keep saying, the girl who saved the world, the girl who saved the world, cause it not quite rhymes, but sounds good when you say it. I'm a girl, but I'm not a...girl. I'm not what people imagine when you say something like that. And I'm not even going to make the argument that a lot of people probably think a guy should have saved the world, cause that sounds so much stronger, we can nominate you for it, "the man who saved the world"! Doesn't that sound much better than "the girl who saved the world"?'
'Stef-'
'If it has to be a girl, then it should be Mags, cause at least she has boobs!'
'Enough, young lady.'
'But daaaaad...'
'Enough.'
'Yessir.'
He held her hands. 'You saved the world, Stef, you did. Tonight is to celebrate you and the lives people have because of you. It will be a very sad day if the guest of honour shows up and is miserable because she's forced herself to wear a dress to conform to standards that she's had forced on her for her whole life.'
'Ryan, I have to wear a dress, I have to look- I have to look like I belong at a gala. It's just all part of how it works.'
'Do you trust me?'
'Yes. Duh.'
'Close your eyes.'
'You don't trust me not to peek.'
'No, you're right.' He required a length of cloth and gently tied a blindfold. 'Now I trust you not to peek.'
'I could still look through the cloth if I wanted.'
'I trust you not to go to the effort.'
She felt her uniform disappear.
'You're going to have to sign a form if you get the dress back from Applebaum.'
'I don't need that dress.'
She felt a dozen different fabrics touch her skin as outfits were required and dismissed. A dozen pretty dresses that belong on a dozen pretty girls. Cool fabric settled against her arms and legs, and stayed. He removed the blind fold. 'Keep your eyes closed.'
'Fiiiiine.'
His fingers smoothed out her hair, then she felt the hard touch of a comb against her scalp.
'At least there's no brain and blood this time,' she said as she dipped her head forward to make it easier for him to tame her hair.
'I could just required your hair into place,' he said, 'but I thought you might prefer this.' He dropped a section of hair over her shoulder, and combed the remainder. 'I can't imagine that James ever did this for you.'
'Of course he didn't.' She let out a long breath through her nose. 'And I do like this. It feels like-' She shrugged. 'I dunno. Being pampered or something?'
'Lift your head back up for me.'
She tilted her head back up as he twisted her hair and began to pull it into whatever style would match the outfit he'd required for her. She felt a clip slide into place. 'If I'd raised you,' he said, 'I would have done your hair every day before school, I never would have forced you to wear clothes that so ill-suited your personality, and-'
She turned and blindly hugged him. 'You would have loved me,' she said, 'I know. You're doing a really good job of making up for lost time. Even if I'm mostly a fuck up cause they made me a fuck up, I still don't want to disappoint you. That's why I'll wear a dress or whatever, cause it's the mature thing to do, it's the least you should be able to expect of me. So I'll do it, for you.'
'You can open your eyes now.'
A tall mirror sat across from her, and reflected his requirements, and her new outfit back at her. It was black and blue and perfect. She touched her uniform with new reverence, the same uniform she worked in, ate in, slept in and died in. The same uniform that had been her first clue that her life from moving from hermity hacker to nascent narc. The uniform that marked her as belonging. That did a lot to define her. That made her feel so much more comfortable than it should.
'There is nothing more fitting for you to wear tonight, Agent,' Ryan said as he lifted her delicate mask, his fingers light on it, careful not to damage the delicate, almost nommable sugar-candy like detail. 'And anyone who wants to argue the point can bring it up with me.'
She jumped into his arms and clung to him. 'Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!' She pulled away and wiped the remnants of tears from her eyes. 'How do you do that?'
'Do what?'
'Always make me feel better?'
'I'm your father, it's my job. Now be careful with your hair.'
She stopping moving and reached her hands up. 'So that wasn't obfuscation too? You did something?'
A live feed appeared in her HUD and she looked down at herself through his eyes.
'Turn around.'
She turned, watching herself turn away in the feed. She saw a flash of silver in her hair, and saw the clip as he leaned toward her. A long silver clip to match her silver mask.
'Huh,' she said, 'I've never put my hair up, my neck feels naked.'
'I can take it out.'
She stepped away and turned back towards him. 'No! It's a little bit of pretty and it's my stupid gala, so I have have a little bit of pretty.'
He looked at her with mock surprise. 'Oh, so it is your gala?'
She pouted and ground her shoe against the carpet. 'I suppose.’
He held her mask out to her and she slipped it on. After a moment, she fished her necklace out from under her shirt and let it hang down over her tie, it was silver, it matched, and hopefully it would distract a few people from looking directly at her.
Ryan crooked an arm to her, his suit replaced with the James Bond tux again. ‘Are you ready?’
‘No.’
‘Ready enough?’
She held on to his arm. ‘Yeah, I suppose.’
The world blurred as they shifted, and the conference room came into view.
‘Everyone except O’Connor owes me!’ she heard Magnolia say as they reintegrated. ‘Mimosa, what is wrong with you?’
She bit her lip as she turned to look at Magnolia. ‘Oh wow, you’re pretty,’ she said, the insult dying on her mouth as she stared at the violent magpie. The dress was something that people would have killed over, if they’d cared about that sort of thing. Black and white, with beading and delicate piping.
‘Thank you. But what’s wrong with you? Where’s the dress?’
‘Mags, she’s the guest of honour,’ Curt said from somewhere behind her, ‘stop trying to give Rier a heart attack, fairy hearts always shrink when they go into arrest, the Parkers will want at least a kidney for their trouble.’
Magnolia stood, the dress flowing with her as she walked across the room. ‘Even you look good in Yo,’ she said, almost kindly, ‘do you really want to go to a gala in your honour in your uniform? A uniform, that I’m betting will be dirty by the time we get out of the limos?’
She required twenty dollars and handed the orange note to the magpie. ‘It will be dirty, the shoes too, I’ll pay you now to avoid the rush.’
She felt Curt wrap his arms around her, and she blushed. ‘It’s a gala for an agent, Mags,’ he said, ‘half the people there will be in something mimicking a uniform.’
Magnolia looked at her again, then sighed and retreated to her seat.
Curt pulled her towards a seat, and Ryan walked around the table to sit next to the red head.
Rier stood at the head of the table, pale and still gawping at Magnolia, but composed herself and began to talk them through the schedule for the official photo shoot, then the route the limo would take.
She tuned the fairy out, knowing she’d be told when and where to go as appropriate, and looked around the table. Ryan in his James Bond tux. The redhead in a green dress that complimented her hair. Hook in his nearly regal regalia. Magnolia in a dress fit for a queen, a huge black jewel hanging from her neck. Taylor and Grigori in matching tuxedos – Taylor’s managing to make him look slightly less scary than usual. Slightly. A quantum step less frightening. Grigori looked at home in his, the same easy expression on his face as usual. Patty wore a golden dress, and Mike matched it with his tie and waistcoat. Clarke stood at the back of the room in a slick suit, his phone in one hand, a cigarette in the other.
She turned to look at Curt. He wore a nicely cut suit – but the lines were strange, it was fairy or fae, not human, and his tie was uniform blue. He’d known what she’d do. She slipped her hand under the arm of his chair and found his hand, and held his hand tightly.
He pulled his hand free, brought hers up over the arm of the chair, and raised her hand to kiss it. His cufflinks matched the star around her neck.
‘I love you,’ she whispered.
In response, he smiled, and kissed her fingers.
Ryan’s face appeared in her HUD. [This next part concerns you, you’ll need to pay attention.]
She nodded to him, closed the window, and spun her chair towards Rier to pretend she’d been listening all along.
They’d been right, it was going to be a great night.
'Don't forget your crown.'
That's the second time he's said that, Spyder, he's very politely trying to get your attention.
And I'm very impolitely ignoring him.
Do you want him to ground you?
Does it mean I get to go home?
No.
Stef looked back at Ryan and the wooden box containing the crown. She counted to a polite three, then turned away and resumed peeking through the clear sections of the anteroom's stained glass doors. The anteroom was a nice touch - somewhere for them to escape if the crowd - big, big, big crowd - got too much, or there needed to be private conversation at any point.
Mags, Taylor and Grigori had ditched immediately and gone out into the crowd. Yo had wandered off to see hoity-toity friends and Patty and Magic Mike had been too excited to hide in the anteroom.
'Dear one,' Hook said as the silver hook touched her shoulder, 'should you think about joining the crowd?'
She stared at her HUD, and the time read twenty-seven minutes - twelve longer than she'd expected to be able to procrastinate. She turned away from the door, walked across the soft carpet of the room, and sat on the arm of the couch next to Ryan. 'Princess me, then.'
Ryan lifted the crown from the box, and carefully placed it on her head, avoiding the mask and the hair clip. She dug her nails into her thighs, and counted to ten to make sure that such a concentration of pretty frippery didn't constitute critical mass of pretty frippery and explode her head.
Curt hooked his arm through hers. 'And the first words out of your mouth are going to be "I'm not ready". We know, we all know, newbie, but it's your gala, you have to at least make an appearance before the speeches.'
'How long until the speeches?'
He checked his phone. 'Seventy-five minutes until the Queen's address, then the rest will be during the banquet, and you can ignore those for food.'
'...is it seventy-four minutes now?'
He held up his phone. 'Sync your HUD.'
She sighed, but did as he suggested. 'Now it's seventy-four minutes,' she said.
Ryan gave her a quick hug. 'Just do your best, young lady.'
'You go first.'
'As you wish.'
'Wishes are what got me into this mess!' she said, then smirked.
Ryan gave her a perfectly narcy smile, then left the room with the redhead.
'You next, Captain.'
'As you say.'
With a flourish, he left the room.
She leaned against Curt. 'I'm not ready.'
'I know.'
'It's what's expected, but-'
He leaned down, and kissed her cheek. 'I'll be by your side the whole night, and you don't have to talk to anyone you don't want to, that's what the mask is for, remember?'
She clung to his arm. 'Drag me out, or I'm not coming.'
He kissed her cheek again, then dragged her from the anteroom.
'Let's get a drink, ok? It's really easy, for formal events, everything is colour-coded by the stem of the glass. Blue stems for water, sparkling or clear. Green stems for alcoholic drinks. Purple stems for mocktails.'
She looked at the glasses of the hushed crowd as they walked past. 'Orange?'
'Fruit drinks.'
'Red?'
'Don't touch red.'
'If it's red it's dead?'
'Red stems indicate drinks with various-' he looked thoughtful for a moment. 'Stimulants. For- Well, think about where you are. And don't say "for acting like royalty?".'
'More if you're gonna visit a place like Carmichel's?'
'Pretty much, newbie.'
They found the bar, and the crowd parted for them. He ordered two "Tages" and the drinks were presented immediately, in glasses with purple stems.
She sipped at it, it tasted oddly of marshmallow and clover.
'You like?'
She nodded. 'And I want you to keep giving me weird drinks all night.'
'Yes ma'am.'
A man in a grey suit walked up to her side, ordered a drink, then stood quietly with his left hand turned palm-up.
Curt leaned in close. 'You do remember that from Rier's orientation, right?'
'...you want me to say yes.'
'He's asking permission to speak. I'd also like you to notice the lapel pin,' Curt said, his voice strained and excited at the same time.
She looked at the fairy's suit and saw a small gold magic lamp.
Genius, it's the Genie logo?
Fairy Steve Jobs?
Take your mask off and greet him.
She lifted a hand to her face and pulled the mask away - a small miracle ensuring that the crown didn't fall, and her hair didn't suddenly come loose from the clip and attack the other gala invitees. 'You can- er- speak,' she said, trying to sound competent.
'Baron von Smartypants,' he said with a straight face, 'it's a pleasure to meet you.'
And what is wrong with my brain now?
Don't look at me, Spyder.
The last time I tried that, I thought my eyes were going to get stuck looking at my sockets!
Erm. The Baron?
She looked back to the fairy. 'Sorry, I didn't catch your name?'
'Yes you did, Agent,' the Baron said with a smile. 'Would you like the story behind it?'
'Is it a good story?' she asked, her mouth faster than her brain.
'If you like the Lost, which, judging by tonight, you do. Please, my entourage is holding some seats for us.'
She followed the fairy, her reflection catching in the metallic edges of his wings. It was unnatural colouration - not the natural silver colouring that some wings had, which was often more clear sections with a silvery sheen, this was replacement-silver, metal inlaid into the wing itself, for fashion or due to injury.
The Baron's people had dibsed a small circular couch an a low, round table. They all moved aside as the Baron sat, two waiters appearing with trays of mixed, fancy-looking snacks.
Horsey doves.
You could pronounce it at four, but you still insisted on horsey doves.
If you'd been around, you would have made me say it properly.
No...I think I'm part of whatever part of your brain came up with horsey doves. It was childishly endearing, and you used it as a distraction. It was clever.
It was evil.
One does not preclude the other.
'I'm surprised you don't know the story,' the Baron said.
'I've only been trolling around on the fairy internet for a couple of months, there's only so much information I can absorb at once. Unfortunately.'
The Baron munched on a tiny sausage, then nodded. 'Your charity for tonight is the Lost. You're not the only one here who owes them a lot.'
'You're Lost?' she asked.
'I've been Found for a long time. I was, in fact, a Foundling. My parents for whatever reason, abandoned me as a child, as I was lucky enough to be found by a Seeker. The Lost try not to take in many orphans, their resources, as you know, are stretched beyond their capability already, but the Seeker saw it fit to raise me within the Court, rather than to give me over to fairy authorities. I was raised by their community, and played on the edges of other's fantasies, until it was time for me to return to-' He paused. 'Return to what seems like such an ordinary world after living among the Lost. It was my choice, don't think that I was ejected, but I wanted to help, and I had more than a few ideas on how to make money. Half the people in this room have at least one of my products on or in their person.'
She poked Curt's arm, and he stiffened. 'He does.'
'The Lost rely on charity, just like Madchester, but there are fewer measures in place for governments to tithe to the Lost than the Mad. Whilst the Mad are often seen as the best public-serving of the major Courts, it's really only those that have needed their services that realise how invaluable the Lost are. I give to them, but I'm just one man. Galas like this, and a person of your stature naming them as their charity, that will do a lot to help. There will be children alive this year solely because of tonight.'
'It's other people's charity, not mine.'
'Give yourself credit, Agent.'
She sipped on the drink. 'That- Um-'
'Didn't explain my name?'
She gave a little nod.
'I know, but I wanted to thank you for your charity. My name is another charity effort. I set a donation goal, and if it was met, I would change my name to a name pulled from a hat for a decade. I have three years remaining as Baron von Smartypants, though I am growing fond of it.' He handed her a card. 'Make an appointment for when you have free time, I thought I'd let you pick out some products, rather than sending a gift basket. Would you mind if I got a photo?'
'Sure.' She stood, and posed with the fairy, while his entourage took photos from a half dozen Genie phones. 'Now could you me a favour?'
'It is your gala, Agent,' the Baron said.
'Could you give my boyfriend an autograph?'
The Baron seemed to actually look at Curt for the first time. 'I do apologise, I thought he was just your attendant.'
Curt mumbled something inaudible, and passed across his phone. The Baron played with his phone for a while, then passed it back. 'Autograph, and no roaming charges for a year as my apology.'
'Thank you,' Curt said, still quieter than normal.
The Baron stood and left, his people following.
'Fanboy,' she said, elbowing him in the ribs.
'Shut up, newbie.' He stared at his phone for a moment. 'I'm surprised you weren't more-' he shrugged. 'He's an uber-nerd, shouldn't you have been blabbing away in LOLcat?'
She shrugged. 'Turing's my god, so everyone sort of pales in comparison to him.' She flipped the card over and over. 'But we got some free stuff, maybe we can get more?'
'But you got sick of gift baskets.'
'Yeah, but I'm supposed to be mingling, right?' She finished off the glass of Tage. 'Let's head outside, and see if we get stopped along the way.'
He stood and offered her a hand. 'Mask, newbie.'
She slipped the mask back into place, and took his hand.
* * *
'You can still tell she's Lost.'
Hook turned towards the voice and gave a low bow. 'My Queen.'
Madhe stepped up the balcony beside him, and leaned against the richly stained wood. 'Keep your voice down, Captain, I'm wanting to avoid notice.'
'You could illusion yourself away, my Queen.'
'I could,' she said, and sipped from a gold-rimmed glass. 'But that takes the game out of it.'
He watched as she stopped to watch a troll dancing with an animated statue. 'She's finding herself.'
Madhe nodded. 'She's almost making eye contact with people other than the boy on her arm.'
He turned away from the Madchester's Queen and watched the girl weave through the crowd, her silver mask reflecting the colours of the gala around her. 'I never could have imagined this for her.'
Madhe smiled. 'It's far higher than many from our Courts rise.'
'Either of us could have taken her.Your Court always has room, and I- No. I suppose it would have had to have been you.'
'She rejected you, Captain, through no fault of your own.'
He dug the point of his hook into the wood. 'I still could have taken her.'
Madhe put a hand on his arm. 'Things have worked out for the best, and you have others to care for.'
'You have an entire Court, my Queen, and you remember a chance meeting.'
'I'm a god, Captain, remembering is easy, forgetting is harder.'
He raised his glass to her. 'To celebration, then.'