Magic by any other name, p.17
Magic by Any Other Name, page 17
“What do you think of this woman?” he asked.
“She intimidates the hell out of me,” Georgette said.
“And her club? What the staff said? Is it true?”
“I think so.” Georgette stirred her yogurt, creating a spiral of granola within it. “Kazimiera took a big risk in letting me talk to them. So many witches would either expose her out of tribal loyalty or blackmail her. She had everything to lose by opening up to me.”
Mei-Xing took a long drink from her water glass, reflecting on what Georgette had told them: Nocturne was a club, a restaurant, a private entertainment site, but it was also a refugee camp. Ishak seemed skeptical but Mei-Xing was elated. All her life she had been warned that being taken as a witch’s familiar was a life sentence, but that wasn’t true. Familiars were escaping and finding freedom. She wondered if there were other places like this one.
“I will think about it,” Ishak said.
“Meanwhile, we have some news too,” Mei-Xing said. “And it might be the key to finding Kalilah.”
Georgette leaned forward in her seat. “Tell me everything.”
By the time Ishak and Mei-Xing were done telling Georgette about the Valkyrie, the witch was wide-eyed and open-mouthed. She made them repeat Delia’s request to be branded several times. She was not, however, surprised to hear about the broker’s house in the gated community; in fact, she was annoyed with herself for not thinking to look there sooner.
“What do you think we should do?” Ishak asked.
“Well,” Georgette said, “if we confide in Kazimiera, she could go to KK Inc. directly and maybe find Kalilah overnight.”
“But then she could conscript Kalilah into her service.” Ishak glowered.
“I don’t think so. None of her employees are forced to be there.”
“What about the Huldra who never leaves the building?” he argued. “You took the Siren’s word that the Huldra stays because she’s traumatized, but that might not be true.”
Georgette shook her head. “I deconstructed and rebuilt the spells on the outside of the building. There’s nothing holding her in.”
“A locked door is not the only way to hold someone prisoner. Up here”—he tapped the side of his head—“is the real prison. Kazimiera may have convinced the Huldra that she can’t leave. She is,” he added, “a Vampire.”
Vampires are supposedly deceptive by nature, thought Mei-Xing. Fair point.
“Why mess with the minds of a few familiars when she could just stick to taking in runaways who have to stay in the building for ten years?” Georgette countered.
Also a fair point, Mei-Xing thought. The Vampire is a businesswoman. She’s probably inclined to do what’s most practical. She drank some more water and laid her arm on the table, trying to maximize surface area touched by the sunlight coming through the window, as she listened.
“All right.” Ishak nodded thoughtfully. “But would she be willing to do such a thing on my behalf?”
“We won’t know unless we ask.” Georgette stirred the bowl of yogurt again and Mei-Xing watched the chunks of fruit and granola sink into the white swirl. “At least we know what Kazimiera gets out of this arrangement. We don’t know what the Valkyrie wants.”
“She was vague,” Ishak agreed, “but I feel the possibility of her assistance outweighs the concern of not knowing her intentions. Should it really matter what their ‘personal reasons’ are?”
“Here’s the thing,” Georgette said. “Witches don’t interfere with Valkyries, they don’t interact with Valkyries, and they never, ever brand Valkyries. Making a familiar of one Valkyrie makes enemies of the rest, and an enemy of Valhalla is a dangerous thing to be.” She finally put down the spoon and leaned back in the booth, resting her hands in her lap. “Capturing a Valkyrie would be a huge status symbol. My mother lives for status symbols, but she still avoids Valkyries like white after Labor Day.”
“This wouldn’t be capturing a Valkyrie, it would be partnering with one.”
“I promise you, Valhalla won’t see it that way.”
“Surely they would be angry at her, not us.”
“Are you willing to bet your life on that?”
Ishak sat back in the booth, eyes closed. “Delia and Senji may be my best chance to free Kalilah. Am I willing to bet my life on that? Yes. Without reservation.”
“Okay,” Georgette said to Ishak, “but let me ask you this: is it worth asking for Kazimiera’s help so you might not have to risk your life?”
Intrigued, Mei-Xing eagerly looked to Ishak for a response. If bringing the Vampire on board kept Georgette safe from Valhalla’s wrath, then she was all for it. She saw a wrestling match of emotions take place on Ishak’s face as he considered his answer.
“Only,” he finally replied, “if I am not increasing the risk to Kalilah’s life by doing so.”
Georgette sighed. “So what it boils down to is this: I’m inclined to trust Kazimiera, you’re not. You’re inclined to trust the Valkyrie, I’m not.”
“That is the sum of it.” Ishak lifted his cup to his lips, drank, and then exhaled over his coffee. “How do we move on from here?”
Mei-Xing waited with bated breath to see what they would do. However, her expectation turned to befuddlement when both of them turned and looked at her.
“What?” she asked, pulling back in surprise.
“I think you’re the tie-breaker, Mei,” Georgette said.
“Yes,” Ishak said with a nod. “We need your thoughts.”
“My thoughts?” Her mind froze. With her mouth hanging open, she looked back and forth between the two of them for several seconds before casting her eyes down at the table. “No thoughts,” she said in her heavily accented English. “None.”
“That’s never true,” Georgette scolded her.
“Please,” Ishak said, leaning closer to her. “What do you think?”
Mei-Xing didn’t want this responsibility. She understood both arguments and didn’t feel suitable to judge which was worthier. She had met the Valkyrie and had also, like Ishak, seen the possibilities her help would open for them. She had not met the Vampire, but she trusted Georgette’s assessment. My friends have both been through a lot and aren’t willing to trust someone sight-unseen. No matter which way I vote, one of them will resent it.
“You meet both,” she blurted out, catching herself by surprise. “Bring them one place, meet both. You talk. Then choose.”
They stared back at her for so long that she worried her English was incomprehensible. Trying to suppress her embarrassment, her mind raced to construct a better sentence. But before she could pull together the words, Ishak turned to Georgette and nodded.
“She has a point,” he said. “If we’re to make this decision properly, we should each talk to them first.”
“It’s not a bad idea,” Georgette said, “but I’m not sure Kazimiera will let me bring you into the club. It took two weeks before she let me into her secrets. Pretty sure she spent that time watching me to decide if I was worth the risk.”
“Will she agree to meet with us outside of the club?”
“Maybe. But it would have to be somewhere she knows.”
“Botanica,” Mei-Xing chimed in. “She regular there.”
“That might work,” said Georgette. “What about the Valkyrie? Would she meet us there?”
“Why wouldn’t she?” Ishak replied, sounding mildly surprised. “According to you, even witches fear her kind. Is there any place she could meet us where she wouldn’t be safe?”
Mei-Xing watched this truth sink into Georgette. Drawing a deep breath, the witch locked eyes with the Bultungin and nodded. He returned the gesture, his conclusive expression mirroring hers.
“Then we’re decided?” he said.
Georgette glanced at Mei-Xing for confirmation. Mei-Xing gave her a tiny nod.
“We’re decided,” Georgette said.
Mei-Xing looked from one friend to the other. Both awaited her final word on the matter. Her fears smothered by their trust, she nodded smartly. “Decided.”
33
Neil
“HEY, BABE!” NEIL SAID WITH A GRIN. HE CAUGHT GEORGETTE AROUND the waist and kissed her smiling lips. “Real glad to get your text!”
“Hey,” she said, returning his embrace. “Sorry for the short notice. I just needed a break before I have to jump into my next assignment.”
The mid-afternoon sun warmed Neil’s skin through his light coat, but the feel of Georgette in his arms warmed his soul. The unexpected joy of meeting up for a meal—late lunch, early dinner, whatever this was—washed away the doldrums of his mundane morning.
“Don’t be sorry. Glad I had a break between meetings.” He smiled sympathetically. “Work got you down, huh?”
Sighing, she shrugged. “Today’s just been a lot of back and forth, a lot of juggling different things. Exhausting.”
“I know how that goes.” He turned, one arm still around her, and gestured at the food trucks up the street. “What sounds good to you?”
It made him happy to see her eyes sparkle with childlike wonder at the dozen or so colorful rigs lining the block.
“So many!” She lowered her gaze to the sidewalk. “Mom wouldn’t let us eat from trucks,” she confided. “She said they were for laborers who had to eat on the job. Once, in college, I told her that couldn’t be true because the trucks were also at street festivals.”
Neil felt her flinch under the arm wrapped around her.
“She got upset,” Georgette said in a subdued tone. “Said she wasn’t paying tuition for me to waste my time at festivals. She started tracking me after that. She’d call me up at all hours, asking why I was where I was. It got to the point that I jumped every time my phone rang.”
While she talked, Neil just looked at her, hardly blinking. She had never opened up to him about her mother before. It was an upsetting yet tantalizing glimpse behind the curtain.
Unexpectedly, her gaze darted to him, and they locked eyes. Georgette quickly turned aside, cheeks flushed. Neil’s heart skipped, flooded with panicked adrenaline. I screwed it up!
“Sorry, I didn’t—I mean, your mom,” he said, fumbling with words that all felt wrong, “she sounds intense.”
“Yeah,” she said after a pause. Turning away, she said, “Let’s eat, okay?”
“I—”
“How about Ramen Roadtrip?” she asked, pointing to the truck in question. “That looks good.”
“I, uh, didn’t mean to—”
“Do you like ramen?” she interjected, her eyes landing on him only for a moment before darting away. “I don’t think I’ve had it before.”
Without waiting for his reply, she trotted off toward the red and brown truck, clutching her purse to her chest. Misery and exasperation roiled in Neil’s chest as he watched her go. She talks to Nico about her mother, he thought, clenching his jaw. Why not me?
Forcefully swallowing back his churning emotions, he followed her to the ramen truck. Afraid that a wrong move from him might send her running, he kept his gaze locked on the cartoonish logo next to the truck’s serving window. That smiling bowl of noodles irritated the hell out of him.
“I do like ramen,” he said, still avoiding her eyes. “Never had it here, though. Want to try it out together?”
For a second, she looked nervous, as if uncertain that he meant what he said—but a heartbeat later, her expression softened, she smiled, and took his hand. The warmth of her touch once again filled him with delight, allowing him to willfully ignore the persistent doubt that gnawed at the back of his mind.
34
Delia & Senji
Delia sat on the gym steps, watching the chosen’s last day unfold.
Senji perched on a shrub near the hotel while the Bultungin spoke to him.
The boxer, a compact powerhouse of a woman, was on her phone, arguing with her estranged husband about child custody.
He funneled the conversation to Delia, giving her access with one ear while she kept the other on the chosen.
Within hours, the man would arrive at the gym to shoot her dead. When his rage subsided, he would turn the gun on himself.
The Bultungin was agreeable to their deal. According to him, the Nymph was also willing, but the witch was unsure. She wanted to meet with him and Delia, Ishak said, before she could agree.
Delia?
Yes? she thought with a start.
The witch wants to meet us. Shall I agree?
Yes. We’ll meet her when and where they like, so long as it’s soon.
Soon. Time was slipping away.
The boxer thrust the phone into her bag. Delia heard her grumble as she headed into the gym for her last workout.
Senji bobbed to convey assent. Ishak nodded. The raven then cocked his head and squawked a wordless question.
“There is a shop Georgette frequents, the Botanica,” the Bultungin said. “You have been following us, you certainly have seen it. Can Delia join us there this evening?”
I’ll be there.
Senji bobbed again.
“Good,” said Ishak. “We will meet then. I hope for the best.”
As do I, Senji thought.
As do we both, Delia agreed. The chosen’s killer is on his way. Death is imminent.
The image of a wild-eyed man driving a jeep with a loaded gun in his lap flashed through her mind.
We’ll deliver her and then meet with the witch.
On my way.
Senji let the wind lift him into the sunlit sky.
Delia closed her eyes, following the flight through her partner’s vision.
He thought about their impending meeting.
She thought about what they would say to the witch.
It had to go well.
It had to be convincing.
They needed this deal. They needed this deal.
Ganbatte kudasai, Senji.
Lâche pas la patate, Delia.
35
Ishak
THE BOTANICA’S OVERHEAD LIGHTS WERE DIM THAT EVENING, creating a dusty haze of shadows in the shop. Ishak stood beside the tarot card table, beside the seated witch and Valkyrie. Mei-Xing sat opposite him, her backside planted on the edge of a display case. Her feet dangled limply in the air as she rested her chin in her hands, elbows on her knees. From where Ishak stood, she seemed to be stealing sleep a few minutes at a time while the others talked. A sliver of streetlight pierced the gap between the door window and the roll-down shade covering the glass. The light cut a clean line up the floor and onto the back wall, slicing through the cheek of the Virgin Mary and tapering to an end an inch above her eye.
Minutes ago, Delia had entered the shop clad in silver robes and armor. The raven was not with her; the Bultungin presumed Senji was keeping watch outside. When Ishak greeted her, Delia nodded politely before removing her sword and helmet and leaving them on the display case next to Mei-Xing.
Georgette and Delia introduced themselves. Then they sat. Then they talked.
Georgette listened silently and politely to the Valkyrie’s pitch, her hands resting on the purple and gold tablecloth, until Delia reiterated her request for the brand.
“Why?” the witch asked. Her blue eyes narrowed slightly behind her glasses. “Why would you want me to brand you?”
“For personal—”
“Personal reasons, right,” Georgette muttered. “But what you’re asking for is … it could be risky. I need more than that. Tell me why you want it.”
Though there was no change in her expression, Ishak saw Delia’s fists clench under the table. Instinctively, he sniffed the air, searching for a tangible indicator of emotion. When all he detected was a whiff of Georgette’s anxiety and Mei-Xing’s drowsiness, he remembered that the Valkyrie was a spirit, not flesh and blood.
“Our motives are our own,” Delia said. “There’s no reason to—”
“I’m not a powerful witch!” Georgette said, her voice surprisingly sharp. “I’m already testing my limits by sharing magic with both Mei-Xing and Ishak. Extending my Hathiya to cover you and your partner might be too much for me. I need to know what you’re planning in order to know if I have enough magic to go around, let alone whether I want to be a part of it.”
Delia’s nostrils flared. Ishak saw her fingers flex under the table. For all her poise, Delia struck him as uncomfortable with her current position.
“If I thought you weren’t strong enough for our purposes,” the Valkyrie said, speaking slowly, “I wouldn’t be here.”
“Only I can decide that,” Georgette replied, “and only after you’ve told me what your ‘personal reasons’ are.”
The witch folded her arms over her chest, staring at Delia, her jaw clenched. On another woman, the expression would look like a show of anger; on her, Ishak recognized it as an attempt to subdue an anxiety attack. Wishing to offer her his support without disrupting the conversation, he flexed his wrist. A feeling like an elastic band snapping made his brand sting, and her eyes darted to his. In the split second they locked gazes, he somehow poured a dose of his confidence into her—not enough to drown her anxiety but enough to calm it.
Unclenching her jaw, she looked away and refocused her attention on the Valkyrie.
Delia stared down at the floor, her eyes glazed. A moment of thick silence took hold of the room; Ishak guessed that she was conferring with her unseen partner. They have their own sort of Hathiya link, he thought, and theirs allows them to communicate more effectively than ours.
“Our business is private,” she finally said, “but I can tell you what we need the brand to do. Will that suffice?”
“Maybe. Tell me.”
“We need to be able to leave our designated district without alerting my sister Valkyries.”
Georgette shot Ishak a look of mild surprise. Is that all? the look seemed to say. Simple concealment? That’s hardly worth so much fuss.
