Balance - Book 2 by Marc Dickason
CHAPTER 25
The boy waited patiently as I signed him in at the Containment Facility of the D.O.M. It was 21:00. The clerk, a large middle aged woman with more freckles than face, couldn’t stop staring. This was not only because my uniform was now less than ‘adequate’, nor because I had more wounds than I could keep track of. But because I had explained what Perry was capable of.
“Alright Perry,” I said, “This is it. You’re safe.”
“Okay. Thank you.” But he lingered.
“What is it?”
“The woman. The one who gave you the scars.”
“Yes?”
“What will you do when you find her?”
“I’m not sure.’”
I then proceeded to the medical department where my stitches were cleaned, hand redressed, and bruises on my face sterilised. As I sat wincing, thoughts curled about in my head. I knew which building my mother was in. I had seen in little Perry’s hellish mind, his brain first having horror’s implanted by ‘Genevieve Starling’, then those horrors being nurtured into obedience by ‘Barbara Starling’. When the time came, orders had been implanted and he had been released. Catching the boy had been a breakthrough. It was not something the ‘Starlings’ had anticipated. It was my advantage.
On my way to the briefing room I stopped at the Supply Depot for another blazer. The clerk told me I could make an application. But it would be a minimum of one to two weeks before it was approved. I nodded, glancing at the dozens of available blazers, and completed the paperwork.
In the briefing room a handful of weathered Enforcers hovered about. Some I recognised from my own D.O.M, others were strangers. Among them I saw Clara Anderson. Her face still showed bruises from our visit to the stadium. Soon Commander Gill stepped in, appearing at least twenty years older. He spotted me and nodded.
“Well done with the boy, Clarence,” he said, “The Specialists are getting to work on him as we speak. A lot of interesting things will come out of that boy’s head. We’re another step closer to dismantling this mess once and for all.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Where’s your blazer?”
“Lost it, sir.”
“Get a new one.”
“Yes, sir.”
His attention turned to the rest of the hall. “Alright, Enforcers. Hello to everyone who has landed up here from out sister stations. I know it’s all been a bit chaotic, and I know there has been confusion. But at times of crisis there are no jurisdictions. We are all Enforcers and we put in where it’s needed. Right?”
There were various mutters and nods.
“I know we’re all tired and I know we could all use some rest. But we can’t, not yet. They need us out there and I have to send you out again. As of right now.” He turned to a map of the city. “The concentration of conflict is still mostly here and here at the moment, but we have managed to bring some degree of calm to the outskirts. Looting is still occurring on the commercial strip. We have people there working with the military. The situation is not yet entirely pacified. Our focus is going to be preventing the central conflict from flaring up again and spreading. So first, I need two, reinforcing the blockade on Grove. Anyone?”
Two men raised their hands hesitantly.
“Alright, Metcalfe, Jones. Get going.”
They stood and exited.
I listened, eyes unfocused. Selena was looking at me. The words she had spoken were crawling around in my head, refusing to disperse. They played with my nerves and set them sparking like loose connections. The road that had brought me to where I now sat was suddenly laid out before me. I saw it clearly, clearer than it had ever been. And looking at it made me tired. I wanted to rest. I wanted to lie down and sleep for a year. And, more than anything, I wanted to be sleeping beside her. Because I knew that sleep would be the sweetest I had ever experienced, if it was on a bed where she also lay.
‘So tired. So tired. Let me sleep. Just let it all be over.’
My body ached. My head throbbed.
“We also need reinforcements here,” Gill was saying, “to prevent spread up Arcadia. These are high value properties and we have orders from up above.”
I looked at the map and found Arcadia. It was not far from my mother’s building, just a few blocks away. A glance down found one hand massaging the wrist of the other.
‘No,’ the flame said, raising its head, ‘You can not sleep. You can not rest. You are not yet finished.’
Gill looked around. Clara put up her hand.
“Alright, Anderson. And someone with her. Volunteers?”
I felt my hand rising.
“I’ll go with her,” I said.
“Clarence. Alright, you two get moving. Anderson, stick to Clarence.”
She glanced at me and flushed.
We exited and headed for the Deployment Hall. Around us the D.O.M was sparsely populated, but those visible bustled about with expressions of semi-dread.
“Afraid my car is still sitting in the middle of nowhere,” I said to Clara, “We’ll have to take yours.”
“You’re an asshole,” she muttered.
“What?”
“You’re an asshole!”
“Clara…”
“I don’t need your patronising bullshit, Jet.”
I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “I’m tired…”
“Just back-up off me, okay?”
“I’m not babysitting you.”
“Then go back and take another assignment.”
Frustration clawed into my head. “Clara, for God’s sake. I’m tired. And I don’t feel like dealing with you right now. So if we could just do our jobs and have less of your whining, that would be great. Okay?”
She was silenced. She stared at me sideways. “You are such an asshole…”
We climbed into her car and headed to Arcadia. The drive was made in complete silence. Clara put such dedication into not looking at me I feared she might sprain her eyeballs. We passed two main intersections where violence was evident. Stores stood naked, car husks baked helplessly in the sinking sun.
Upon arriving at Arcadia all was quiet. The road was flanked on either side by tall, sturdy fences, restricting access to a large public park and city monument. But I suspected this design doubled as a means to funnel approaching vehicles, making protection convenient. Being wealthy had its perks.
The Enforcer blockade consisted of ten bodies, five Enforcers and five military. None I recognised. All gazed anxiously up the road. Clara pulled the car over and jumped out. I followed suit.
“Hey, it’s Jet Clarence,” the Enforcer Squad commander said brightly, “Manna from heaven.”
Military and Enforcer alike laughed. Clara seethed.
“How are things looking?” I asked.
“We’ve pushed back a few handfuls,” the Commander replied, “not much trouble. Some load of bullshit, though. Right? The only reason we’re here is because they live back there.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Stores are getting looted all over the city. But here we are, protecting the tennis court with the most cash.”
“My sister’s boutique got looted up town,” a second added.
“It’s a fair amount of bullshit,” I agreed, “What can we do about it?”
There were a few mutters of discontent. Silence fell and eyes fixed up the road. I waited, avoiding conversation and drifting to the edge of the barricade. After an hour of no activity I had decided to go with my plan regardless of distractions. But, thankfully, a group of civilians soon appeared. They emerged from a crossroad and drifted towards us. More joined and a formidable crowd developed.
“Here they come,” the Commander said, ‘everyone get ready.”
There was a series of crackles as Spirit was summoned. Followed by a silence in which Spells were prepared. The military units fell back behind the Enforcers. Automatic weapons were raised.
“As before,” the Commander declared, “Keep it calm. Send them on their wa
y. Raw Spirit is prohibited unless I give the word.”
Heads nodded. The crowd advanced, swarming up the street and expanding to occupy its full breadth. A murmuring roar followed in its wake. Bodies pressed side by side and wild eyes rolled feverishly.
‘A better life for me, a better life for my family.’
As it drew to within fifty meters the order was given.
“Now!”
Spirit was released and calm washed out. The front runners reacted immediately, slowing and developing perplexed expressions. But those behind forced them on, overcoming the effects and negating the calm.
“Spell is getting stronger,” the Commander said, “Keep it up. Raise your Spirit output.” He glanced at me. “Let’s go, Clarence. Push them back.”
I added my own Spirit to the mix. But held back. The crowd continued to advance. Twenty meters.
“Clarence, push them back!”
“I’m trying, sir.”
Fifteen meters.
“Alright, put them down!”
As the first bolt was thrown I acted. My Spirit was drawn up. I added a message. And it was eased out over the Enforcers. Subtle, almost inaudible, but persistent…
‘Jet Clarence is not here, ignore me, Jet Clarence is not here, ignore me…’
Ahead the bolts struck home and bodies jolted. A woman catapulted backwards and ploughed into a man behind her, clawing at him for support. He let her fall and trod on her in his advance.
I edged backwards and detached from the barricade.
‘Ignore me… ignore me…’
I stopped a short distance up the street and watched. Clara Anderson turned her head and looked in my direction. But her eyes glazed and she returned to the battle. It was my hope everyone would assume I had been lost track of in the chaos.
I turned and jogged up the street. Behind me the sounds of crackling Spirit rose, combined with the shouts of determined Enforcers. They would be fine, I told myself. Nothing they couldn’t handle. Gunshots joined the snaps of Spirit.
At the end of Arcadia I turned right and proceeded into the looping roads that constructed the wealthiest neighbourhood in the city. The further I travelled the hotter the furnace in my stomach burned. Soon it began to burst its seams and seep into my veins.
‘This is it,’ the flame told me, ‘this is it; we’ve made it. This is what we want. This is what you want…’
My pace quickened. Around me enormous glittering buildings stretched up and vanished into the night sky. Pristine lobbies of glass and light slipped past on either side. Deserted. Everywhere doors stood closed to the encroaching menace. The sounds of conflict faded and became distant behind me. ‘They’ll be fine,’ I repeated, ‘they’ll be fine. Eyes front, stay focused. Get it done. Get back before the spell fades.’
Left at the intersection. Just up ahead. I could see it now; an enormous glowing needle rising up into the sky, tapering at the top and piercing the clouds. The road beneath it was dead, illuminated by rows of streetlamps. And although towering, somehow the building begged to go unnoticed. Something about the way its surrounding gardens were less impressive. The way its lobby doors were small and difficult to notice. I arrived panting. Ribs aching, head swimming. My stitches had again begun to bleed.
“I’m in no condition to do this,” I gasped to myself, “Turn around, go back. Heal and return later...”
A tuxedoed figure was beside me. It followed my gaze. Around it a soft blue flame flickered and guttered, casting mutant shadows across the street.
“Right here, right now,” it said, “finish it. There is nothing else but the end. Visualise.”
I tilted my head back. My eyes traveled up the length of the structure. On the top floor they were waiting. A moment before I took my first step a tiny voice was glimpsed, emanating from the building like a broadcast signal.
‘There is no one here, this building is not worth investigating. There is no one here, this building is not worth investigating.’
It was resisted and pushed aside. I approached the lobby doors and passed through them. My Spirit went out in an all consuming wave.
‘Jet Clarence is not here; ignore me, Jet Clarence is not here; ignore me…’
A pair of security guards stationed on either side of the door glanced at me, but were committed to ignoring my presence. I moved beyond them and crossed the lobby. In response the desk clerk looked up and his eyes fell directly on my face. But the moment they did he glazed over. He returned to his crossword and job of waiting for the phone to ring.
My boots clip-clopped on the marble floor, echoing in an entrance lobby that was unexpectedly small, for such an extravagant building. There were no chairs on which to wait, no magazines to read while waiting, and not even a pot plant to try establish an atmosphere of calm. It was the most uninviting building lobby I had ever visited. My finger pressed the elevator button and it sprang open. Again the clerk looked up, perplexed, but shrugged his shoulders. He was more comfortable believing it had malfunctioned then having to deal with the intruder traipsing through the building.
I stepped into the elevator and rode it to the top floor.
‘There is no one here,’ the building said, ‘this building is not worth investigating…’
By the time the doors slid open on the top floor the Spell had become stronger. I continued to fight it off, but it was starting to take on a ‘fingernails on a blackboard’ edge. A red carpeted corridor now paved the way. It was dissected by another, thirty meters ahead. Dozens of gold trimmed apartment doors flanked my sides.
“I’m coming, mother,” I said.
And then Franco Starling came marching around the corner. His stride was determined and jaw set. As before his wardrobe seemed to have been stolen from a slick-covered, business fashion catalogue. He headed in my direction for a few steps, oblivious to my presence. I prayed he might walk right by. But an instant later he did a double-take and his eyes locked on my face. His march halted, body tensing.
“Whoa there,” he said, pearly whites flashing, “there you are, Jet. Thought that was you. Nice to see you again.”
I groaned. “And you, Franco Starling.”
“That’s an impressive spell. Walked right in through the lobby did you?”
“Yes.”
“Very impressive indeed. You know even the guys watching the cameras didn’t see you. Your spell penetrated right through the walls, clear across the whole building.”
“I didn’t see the cameras.”
“I guessed as much. But I felt you. Right through every floor straight up to the top.”
He paused and stared at me.
“What do you want from me?” I asked.
He shrugged. “You’re an anomaly; an unwanted annoyance. And still one of the most powerful magic users I’ve ever met. It’s interesting. Seeing what you’ll do, what lengths you’ll go through. Ruining yourself every step of the way. My God if you just took one step for your own benefit you could be unstoppable. A force that changed the world. But you don’t. Why?”
“You think that’s what you are?” I said, “A force changing the world? You’re one step away from being right back in the lobby. You always will be.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “I feel sorry for you, Jet. I can’t deny it. But maybe that’s just because we shared the same childhood, brother. You see my father died too.”
Behind Franco the shape of a figure was glimpsed. A tall man in a long dusty coat. Where one of his eyes should have been was a pink hollow.
I sighed. “One of us ended up on his back last time. Screaming. Let’s not do this again.”
His smile faltered. “Not this time.”
“Just get out of my way.”
The smile melted altogether. “There’s nothing to interrupt us. No one is calling the Enforcers.”
I found my Place of Calm. “I’m counting on it.”
“Round three.”
His eyes narrowed and a debilitating attack follow
ed. Black tentacles leapt forward and probed aggressively. I expected it. The world tightened and lights dimmed, but I resisted. Simultaneously I let my body slump and adopted a stunned posture. An imitation of a person overpowered. He bought it.
His Spirit exploded in a ground shuddering blast and he came charging forward. I waited, watching as his arm swept round and fist impacted my right cheek with a wet THUMP. My teeth rattled and upper body spun. The Spirit was released and tingled as it prepared to go active. I drew it in and directed it down. It passed my neck into my chest, around my heart, then immediately up my left shoulder. It shot up my arm and out the index finger. This finger which was pointed at Franco’s chest.
He didn’t have a hope of absorbing. Or even raising a hand to defend. The blast slammed into his stomach and arched his spine, then dragged him backwards. His arms flung out in some bizarre imitation of a superhero in flight. Then the shockwave bowed walls and flickered gold trimmed lights. He went catapulting backwards as a thundering BOOM rang in the ceiling.
When at last hitting the red carpet, his body was already limp. The result was a tangle of limbs that flapped about for his entire tumbling journey to the other end of the corridor. Upon finally come to a rest, thirty meters away, I wasn’t sure if any part of him remained facing the right direction. I looked at the pile of expensive clothing and broken parts. Distantly, I knew I had just said goodbye to the closest thing I would ever have to a brother.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I’m sorry you chose that.”
My eyes turned to the doors on either side. I waited to see if a face would emerge. None did. I then began examining room numbers, looking for my mother’s. But realisation struck. I had been invaded by the Spell while facing Franco.
‘There is no one here, this building is not worth investigating…’
I realised I was in the wrong building.
‘How stupid of me,’ I thought, ‘wondering into the wrong place. Waltzing through the lobby and making such a mess. Better go back down and check my directions.’
‘No. This is the right building. I know it is.’
‘No it’s not, dummy.’
I gritted my teeth and covered my eyes. The roots were too deep. Extracting them was trying to forcefully uproot a hundred year old oak. And even now as I thought about it, I was certain I had entered the wrong building. Images began to appear in my head of entering an incorrect lobby. The one glimpsed next door. Had I…?
My body prepared to turn around and get back in the elevator. I fought it, using every ounce of will to halt the unwanted actions of my own muscles.
“Futile,” I muttered to myself. I sucked in deep breaths. “Futile.”
I relaxed my mental defences and stopped resisting. The spell flowed in and expanded, stretching out to occupy every corner of my mind. In the few seconds that remained I zoned in.
‘There is no one here, this building is not worth investigating…’
And dug deeper. I dove in, clawed my way under the foundations. And saw the ant colony below the rock. There it was. Two vibrations. One slow, one slightly faster. They hummed away merrily. The Spell had passed through Franco before infecting me, it seemed.
I felt my eyes squint with focus as I reached tenuously for the chords. A task so absurdly delicate I had images of threading microscopic cotton through a needle eye; one that would be dwarfed by a grain of sand. Contact was made. The chords were singing before my eyes, buzzing and curling like threads of hair resting on a blaring speaker. I experimentally pushed Spirit onto them, having to focus it down to a pinpoint I would never have considered possible. And they wavered. I added a bit more and they shattered like glass.
The world shifted and eased. I leapt at my Place of Calm. And not a moment too soon, for the very second I did, the spell descended again. I denied it.
My eyes returned to the apartment doors and I started forward.
I turned right. My eyes flicked to room numbers. As I approached my buzz escalated. 215, 216, 217, 218. And here it was; 219. A great behemoth of a mahogany door, polished to a brilliant, silky shine.
Reach out…
I placed my hand on the doors surface. Beneath my palm it was cool.
“Here I am mother.”
In my minds eye were tiny, microscopic objects. So small they could not be seen with the naked eye. I scrambled them. One was separated from the other and sent drifting away.
…And imprint…
Beneath my hand the wood began to transform to ash and flutter to the red carpet. The reaction spread, expanding in an uneven ring from beneath my hand. The ash piled up and the door was gone. Behind it stood the home of Barbara Starling.
The boy waited patiently as I signed him in at the Containment Facility of the D.O.M. It was 21:00. The clerk, a large middle aged woman with more freckles than face, couldn’t stop staring. This was not only because my uniform was now less than ‘adequate’, nor because I had more wounds than I could keep track of. But because I had explained what Perry was capable of.
“Alright Perry,” I said, “This is it. You’re safe.”
“Okay. Thank you.” But he lingered.
“What is it?”
“The woman. The one who gave you the scars.”
“Yes?”
“What will you do when you find her?”
“I’m not sure.’”
I then proceeded to the medical department where my stitches were cleaned, hand redressed, and bruises on my face sterilised. As I sat wincing, thoughts curled about in my head. I knew which building my mother was in. I had seen in little Perry’s hellish mind, his brain first having horror’s implanted by ‘Genevieve Starling’, then those horrors being nurtured into obedience by ‘Barbara Starling’. When the time came, orders had been implanted and he had been released. Catching the boy had been a breakthrough. It was not something the ‘Starlings’ had anticipated. It was my advantage.
On my way to the briefing room I stopped at the Supply Depot for another blazer. The clerk told me I could make an application. But it would be a minimum of one to two weeks before it was approved. I nodded, glancing at the dozens of available blazers, and completed the paperwork.
In the briefing room a handful of weathered Enforcers hovered about. Some I recognised from my own D.O.M, others were strangers. Among them I saw Clara Anderson. Her face still showed bruises from our visit to the stadium. Soon Commander Gill stepped in, appearing at least twenty years older. He spotted me and nodded.
“Well done with the boy, Clarence,” he said, “The Specialists are getting to work on him as we speak. A lot of interesting things will come out of that boy’s head. We’re another step closer to dismantling this mess once and for all.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Where’s your blazer?”
“Lost it, sir.”
“Get a new one.”
“Yes, sir.”
His attention turned to the rest of the hall. “Alright, Enforcers. Hello to everyone who has landed up here from out sister stations. I know it’s all been a bit chaotic, and I know there has been confusion. But at times of crisis there are no jurisdictions. We are all Enforcers and we put in where it’s needed. Right?”
There were various mutters and nods.
“I know we’re all tired and I know we could all use some rest. But we can’t, not yet. They need us out there and I have to send you out again. As of right now.” He turned to a map of the city. “The concentration of conflict is still mostly here and here at the moment, but we have managed to bring some degree of calm to the outskirts. Looting is still occurring on the commercial strip. We have people there working with the military. The situation is not yet entirely pacified. Our focus is going to be preventing the central conflict from flaring up again and spreading. So first, I need two, reinforcing the blockade on Grove. Anyone?”
Two men raised their hands hesitantly.
“Alright, Metcalfe, Jones. Get going.”
They stood and exited.
I listened, eyes unfocused. Selena was looking at me. The words she had spoken were crawling around in my head, refusing to disperse. They played with my nerves and set them sparking like loose connections. The road that had brought me to where I now sat was suddenly laid out before me. I saw it clearly, clearer than it had ever been. And looking at it made me tired. I wanted to rest. I wanted to lie down and sleep for a year. And, more than anything, I wanted to be sleeping beside her. Because I knew that sleep would be the sweetest I had ever experienced, if it was on a bed where she also lay.
‘So tired. So tired. Let me sleep. Just let it all be over.’
My body ached. My head throbbed.
“We also need reinforcements here,” Gill was saying, “to prevent spread up Arcadia. These are high value properties and we have orders from up above.”
I looked at the map and found Arcadia. It was not far from my mother’s building, just a few blocks away. A glance down found one hand massaging the wrist of the other.
‘No,’ the flame said, raising its head, ‘You can not sleep. You can not rest. You are not yet finished.’
Gill looked around. Clara put up her hand.
“Alright, Anderson. And someone with her. Volunteers?”
I felt my hand rising.
“I’ll go with her,” I said.
“Clarence. Alright, you two get moving. Anderson, stick to Clarence.”
She glanced at me and flushed.
We exited and headed for the Deployment Hall. Around us the D.O.M was sparsely populated, but those visible bustled about with expressions of semi-dread.
“Afraid my car is still sitting in the middle of nowhere,” I said to Clara, “We’ll have to take yours.”
“You’re an asshole,” she muttered.
“What?”
“You’re an asshole!”
“Clara…”
“I don’t need your patronising bullshit, Jet.”
I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “I’m tired…”
“Just back-up off me, okay?”
“I’m not babysitting you.”
“Then go back and take another assignment.”
Frustration clawed into my head. “Clara, for God’s sake. I’m tired. And I don’t feel like dealing with you right now. So if we could just do our jobs and have less of your whining, that would be great. Okay?”
She was silenced. She stared at me sideways. “You are such an asshole…”
We climbed into her car and headed to Arcadia. The drive was made in complete silence. Clara put such dedication into not looking at me I feared she might sprain her eyeballs. We passed two main intersections where violence was evident. Stores stood naked, car husks baked helplessly in the sinking sun.
Upon arriving at Arcadia all was quiet. The road was flanked on either side by tall, sturdy fences, restricting access to a large public park and city monument. But I suspected this design doubled as a means to funnel approaching vehicles, making protection convenient. Being wealthy had its perks.
The Enforcer blockade consisted of ten bodies, five Enforcers and five military. None I recognised. All gazed anxiously up the road. Clara pulled the car over and jumped out. I followed suit.
“Hey, it’s Jet Clarence,” the Enforcer Squad commander said brightly, “Manna from heaven.”
Military and Enforcer alike laughed. Clara seethed.
“How are things looking?” I asked.
“We’ve pushed back a few handfuls,” the Commander replied, “not much trouble. Some load of bullshit, though. Right? The only reason we’re here is because they live back there.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Stores are getting looted all over the city. But here we are, protecting the tennis court with the most cash.”
“My sister’s boutique got looted up town,” a second added.
“It’s a fair amount of bullshit,” I agreed, “What can we do about it?”
There were a few mutters of discontent. Silence fell and eyes fixed up the road. I waited, avoiding conversation and drifting to the edge of the barricade. After an hour of no activity I had decided to go with my plan regardless of distractions. But, thankfully, a group of civilians soon appeared. They emerged from a crossroad and drifted towards us. More joined and a formidable crowd developed.
“Here they come,” the Commander said, ‘everyone get ready.”
There was a series of crackles as Spirit was summoned. Followed by a silence in which Spells were prepared. The military units fell back behind the Enforcers. Automatic weapons were raised.
“As before,” the Commander declared, “Keep it calm. Send them on their wa
Heads nodded. The crowd advanced, swarming up the street and expanding to occupy its full breadth. A murmuring roar followed in its wake. Bodies pressed side by side and wild eyes rolled feverishly.
‘A better life for me, a better life for my family.’
As it drew to within fifty meters the order was given.
“Now!”
Spirit was released and calm washed out. The front runners reacted immediately, slowing and developing perplexed expressions. But those behind forced them on, overcoming the effects and negating the calm.
“Spell is getting stronger,” the Commander said, “Keep it up. Raise your Spirit output.” He glanced at me. “Let’s go, Clarence. Push them back.”
I added my own Spirit to the mix. But held back. The crowd continued to advance. Twenty meters.
“Clarence, push them back!”
“I’m trying, sir.”
Fifteen meters.
“Alright, put them down!”
As the first bolt was thrown I acted. My Spirit was drawn up. I added a message. And it was eased out over the Enforcers. Subtle, almost inaudible, but persistent…
‘Jet Clarence is not here, ignore me, Jet Clarence is not here, ignore me…’
Ahead the bolts struck home and bodies jolted. A woman catapulted backwards and ploughed into a man behind her, clawing at him for support. He let her fall and trod on her in his advance.
I edged backwards and detached from the barricade.
‘Ignore me… ignore me…’
I stopped a short distance up the street and watched. Clara Anderson turned her head and looked in my direction. But her eyes glazed and she returned to the battle. It was my hope everyone would assume I had been lost track of in the chaos.
I turned and jogged up the street. Behind me the sounds of crackling Spirit rose, combined with the shouts of determined Enforcers. They would be fine, I told myself. Nothing they couldn’t handle. Gunshots joined the snaps of Spirit.
At the end of Arcadia I turned right and proceeded into the looping roads that constructed the wealthiest neighbourhood in the city. The further I travelled the hotter the furnace in my stomach burned. Soon it began to burst its seams and seep into my veins.
‘This is it,’ the flame told me, ‘this is it; we’ve made it. This is what we want. This is what you want…’
My pace quickened. Around me enormous glittering buildings stretched up and vanished into the night sky. Pristine lobbies of glass and light slipped past on either side. Deserted. Everywhere doors stood closed to the encroaching menace. The sounds of conflict faded and became distant behind me. ‘They’ll be fine,’ I repeated, ‘they’ll be fine. Eyes front, stay focused. Get it done. Get back before the spell fades.’
Left at the intersection. Just up ahead. I could see it now; an enormous glowing needle rising up into the sky, tapering at the top and piercing the clouds. The road beneath it was dead, illuminated by rows of streetlamps. And although towering, somehow the building begged to go unnoticed. Something about the way its surrounding gardens were less impressive. The way its lobby doors were small and difficult to notice. I arrived panting. Ribs aching, head swimming. My stitches had again begun to bleed.
“I’m in no condition to do this,” I gasped to myself, “Turn around, go back. Heal and return later...”
A tuxedoed figure was beside me. It followed my gaze. Around it a soft blue flame flickered and guttered, casting mutant shadows across the street.
“Right here, right now,” it said, “finish it. There is nothing else but the end. Visualise.”
I tilted my head back. My eyes traveled up the length of the structure. On the top floor they were waiting. A moment before I took my first step a tiny voice was glimpsed, emanating from the building like a broadcast signal.
‘There is no one here, this building is not worth investigating. There is no one here, this building is not worth investigating.’
It was resisted and pushed aside. I approached the lobby doors and passed through them. My Spirit went out in an all consuming wave.
‘Jet Clarence is not here; ignore me, Jet Clarence is not here; ignore me…’
A pair of security guards stationed on either side of the door glanced at me, but were committed to ignoring my presence. I moved beyond them and crossed the lobby. In response the desk clerk looked up and his eyes fell directly on my face. But the moment they did he glazed over. He returned to his crossword and job of waiting for the phone to ring.
My boots clip-clopped on the marble floor, echoing in an entrance lobby that was unexpectedly small, for such an extravagant building. There were no chairs on which to wait, no magazines to read while waiting, and not even a pot plant to try establish an atmosphere of calm. It was the most uninviting building lobby I had ever visited. My finger pressed the elevator button and it sprang open. Again the clerk looked up, perplexed, but shrugged his shoulders. He was more comfortable believing it had malfunctioned then having to deal with the intruder traipsing through the building.
I stepped into the elevator and rode it to the top floor.
‘There is no one here,’ the building said, ‘this building is not worth investigating…’
By the time the doors slid open on the top floor the Spell had become stronger. I continued to fight it off, but it was starting to take on a ‘fingernails on a blackboard’ edge. A red carpeted corridor now paved the way. It was dissected by another, thirty meters ahead. Dozens of gold trimmed apartment doors flanked my sides.
“I’m coming, mother,” I said.
And then Franco Starling came marching around the corner. His stride was determined and jaw set. As before his wardrobe seemed to have been stolen from a slick-covered, business fashion catalogue. He headed in my direction for a few steps, oblivious to my presence. I prayed he might walk right by. But an instant later he did a double-take and his eyes locked on my face. His march halted, body tensing.
“Whoa there,” he said, pearly whites flashing, “there you are, Jet. Thought that was you. Nice to see you again.”
I groaned. “And you, Franco Starling.”
“That’s an impressive spell. Walked right in through the lobby did you?”
“Yes.”
“Very impressive indeed. You know even the guys watching the cameras didn’t see you. Your spell penetrated right through the walls, clear across the whole building.”
“I didn’t see the cameras.”
“I guessed as much. But I felt you. Right through every floor straight up to the top.”
He paused and stared at me.
“What do you want from me?” I asked.
He shrugged. “You’re an anomaly; an unwanted annoyance. And still one of the most powerful magic users I’ve ever met. It’s interesting. Seeing what you’ll do, what lengths you’ll go through. Ruining yourself every step of the way. My God if you just took one step for your own benefit you could be unstoppable. A force that changed the world. But you don’t. Why?”
“You think that’s what you are?” I said, “A force changing the world? You’re one step away from being right back in the lobby. You always will be.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “I feel sorry for you, Jet. I can’t deny it. But maybe that’s just because we shared the same childhood, brother. You see my father died too.”
Behind Franco the shape of a figure was glimpsed. A tall man in a long dusty coat. Where one of his eyes should have been was a pink hollow.
I sighed. “One of us ended up on his back last time. Screaming. Let’s not do this again.”
His smile faltered. “Not this time.”
“Just get out of my way.”
The smile melted altogether. “There’s nothing to interrupt us. No one is calling the Enforcers.”
I found my Place of Calm. “I’m counting on it.”
“Round three.”
His eyes narrowed and a debilitating attack follow
His Spirit exploded in a ground shuddering blast and he came charging forward. I waited, watching as his arm swept round and fist impacted my right cheek with a wet THUMP. My teeth rattled and upper body spun. The Spirit was released and tingled as it prepared to go active. I drew it in and directed it down. It passed my neck into my chest, around my heart, then immediately up my left shoulder. It shot up my arm and out the index finger. This finger which was pointed at Franco’s chest.
He didn’t have a hope of absorbing. Or even raising a hand to defend. The blast slammed into his stomach and arched his spine, then dragged him backwards. His arms flung out in some bizarre imitation of a superhero in flight. Then the shockwave bowed walls and flickered gold trimmed lights. He went catapulting backwards as a thundering BOOM rang in the ceiling.
When at last hitting the red carpet, his body was already limp. The result was a tangle of limbs that flapped about for his entire tumbling journey to the other end of the corridor. Upon finally come to a rest, thirty meters away, I wasn’t sure if any part of him remained facing the right direction. I looked at the pile of expensive clothing and broken parts. Distantly, I knew I had just said goodbye to the closest thing I would ever have to a brother.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I’m sorry you chose that.”
My eyes turned to the doors on either side. I waited to see if a face would emerge. None did. I then began examining room numbers, looking for my mother’s. But realisation struck. I had been invaded by the Spell while facing Franco.
‘There is no one here, this building is not worth investigating…’
I realised I was in the wrong building.
‘How stupid of me,’ I thought, ‘wondering into the wrong place. Waltzing through the lobby and making such a mess. Better go back down and check my directions.’
‘No. This is the right building. I know it is.’
‘No it’s not, dummy.’
I gritted my teeth and covered my eyes. The roots were too deep. Extracting them was trying to forcefully uproot a hundred year old oak. And even now as I thought about it, I was certain I had entered the wrong building. Images began to appear in my head of entering an incorrect lobby. The one glimpsed next door. Had I…?
My body prepared to turn around and get back in the elevator. I fought it, using every ounce of will to halt the unwanted actions of my own muscles.
“Futile,” I muttered to myself. I sucked in deep breaths. “Futile.”
I relaxed my mental defences and stopped resisting. The spell flowed in and expanded, stretching out to occupy every corner of my mind. In the few seconds that remained I zoned in.
‘There is no one here, this building is not worth investigating…’
And dug deeper. I dove in, clawed my way under the foundations. And saw the ant colony below the rock. There it was. Two vibrations. One slow, one slightly faster. They hummed away merrily. The Spell had passed through Franco before infecting me, it seemed.
I felt my eyes squint with focus as I reached tenuously for the chords. A task so absurdly delicate I had images of threading microscopic cotton through a needle eye; one that would be dwarfed by a grain of sand. Contact was made. The chords were singing before my eyes, buzzing and curling like threads of hair resting on a blaring speaker. I experimentally pushed Spirit onto them, having to focus it down to a pinpoint I would never have considered possible. And they wavered. I added a bit more and they shattered like glass.
The world shifted and eased. I leapt at my Place of Calm. And not a moment too soon, for the very second I did, the spell descended again. I denied it.
My eyes returned to the apartment doors and I started forward.
I turned right. My eyes flicked to room numbers. As I approached my buzz escalated. 215, 216, 217, 218. And here it was; 219. A great behemoth of a mahogany door, polished to a brilliant, silky shine.
Reach out…
I placed my hand on the doors surface. Beneath my palm it was cool.
“Here I am mother.”
In my minds eye were tiny, microscopic objects. So small they could not be seen with the naked eye. I scrambled them. One was separated from the other and sent drifting away.
…And imprint…
Beneath my hand the wood began to transform to ash and flutter to the red carpet. The reaction spread, expanding in an uneven ring from beneath my hand. The ash piled up and the door was gone. Behind it stood the home of Barbara Starling.