Secondhand Sorcery

“Fundamentally, we’re talking about a blast injury,” the doctor said. “Typical of someone who gets too close to an explosion. A very strange explosion, in this case—the major shrapnel injuries you would expect are absent. The fragments that did hit him are minor irritants, superficial injuries. We’ve still picked them out, of course, but … the real issue is deeper. A shockwave passed over and through his body. What exactly it did to him, I can’t say; I don’t dare put him through an MRI when he might still have metal inside him, and CT isn’t the same. Is there anything else, anything at all you can tell me about what happened to him?”

“We didn’t really see,” Nadia repeated, as patiently as she could when he had asked three times already. “Ardent threw something very large and hot at his truck, too fast to see. We thought it had killed him, at first.”

The doctor scratched at his beard. “Hell of a case,” he pronounced. “It’s a damned funny trauma pattern. We’ve stopped all the bleeding, and his digestion will recover, I think, but I’m buggered if I know about his brain. Keep him clean, comfortable, nourished, and hydrated, and he might wake up some day. He’s young, and young bodies and young minds are resilient. I’m sorry, but that’s all I can tell you.”

“Thank you,” Therese said for both of them. Fatima had kept her face buried in her hands the whole time, not even noticing Nadia’s hand on her shoulder. It was a blessing that she couldn’t understand the doctor’s Russian. Neither of them noticed when he left the room.

“We can do all that,” Nadia offered. “Keeping him clean and everything. That’s possible now.”

“Yeah,” Fatima said into her hands. This was Ruslan’s fifth day unconscious, and he looked awful, with his head shaved for the brain-reading device and all kinds of tubes shoved into his face and arms. Optimism wasn’t easy.

Nadia kept trying. “We’ve made a difference. And we’re better off than we were on Sunday.”

“Much better off,” Therese agreed. “But we shouldn’t stay here too long.”

“Why not?” The challenge was, again, muffled by Fatima’s hands. “We killed the bitch.”

“That is what they say,” Therese reproved her. “But I know I didn’t see the body, and we thought we had killed her once before. Anyway, there must be spies. One patient under the wrong name, who happens to be the right age and sex, is not too suspicious. But the longer you stay here, the more likely it is some employee will notice and possibly talk. We are at risk as it is.”

“And we shouldn’t leave Yuri and Maria alone for too long,” Nadia added several seconds later, when Fatima showed no sign of moving.

That did the trick. “Sick of this shit,” Fatima groaned as she got to her feet, kicking her chair away behind her. She bent down to kiss Ruslan on the forehead; as ever, he showed no sign of noticing. “Khudai pa aman, brother.”

The streets outside were peaceful and pleasant; it was a warm day for March, and the people of Krymsk seemed to be making a holiday of it. The park across the street from the hospital was crowded with picnicking families, small children chasing each other through the trees while their parents relaxed on blankets or benches. “I can feel good about this,” she said.

“Not at the price we paid,” Fatima grumbled back. It was a longish walk back to the boarding house, and she looked determined to shuffle and drag her feet the whole way.

“All that is an illusion,” Therese added, with a wave at the giggling children. “They were having play days in the park when the hag was in charge, too. What you don’t see is the looting, the criminals let out of jails. All those people will be sure to lock their doors tonight.”

Does she want me to apologize for avenging her husband? Hard to say. She’d only known Therese for a couple of days, and she was a difficult woman to get to know. “Can’t your people send you more help? If the Lamprey isn’t gone, his emissor was at least hurt. She wouldn’t be laying low through all this, if she had a choice. Would she?”

“There won’t be any more help coming,” Therese said, stuffing her hands into her coat pockets. “Not anytime soon. My government is occupied with other problems.”

“What, like the thing in Texas? That’s America’s problem, isn’t it?”

“No, not just ‘the thing in Texas,’ though that is bad enough. There have been attacks in Germany, as well.”

“Weren’t there already?” said Fatima, looking up from her shoes. “Isn’t Germany right on Ivan’s border?”

“Not like this. There were minor provocations, an oprichnik here or there putting a toe across the border from Poland. Usually hunting down defectors, and earning swift punishment in kind. This … this is something different. A long, solid offensive, right into the heart of the country, and nobody seems to be able to stop it. They’ve made it to Leipzig, last I heard.”

“An offensive?” Nadia found it hard to believe. “They have people to spare on invading Germany at a time like this?”

“I don’t know. It isn’t a real invasion, they aren’t taking territory to hold. These are terror raids, like in Texas, only they don’t seem to be slowing down or retreating. Don’t ask me for more details; I don’t have any.”

“How long has this been going on?” said Fatima. Nadia was glad something was taking her mind off Ruslan.

“The last thirty-six hours, give or take. I assume it is another retaliation for what you did here.”

“’You’?” Nadia challenged her. “Don’t you mean ‘we’?”

“No, I do not. We were playing by the rules before you little oafs came along sowing havoc.”

“I’m not liking the sound of this,” Fatima said, finally looking like herself again. “Your bosses know where we are. What kind of odds do you give us, that they won’t sell us out to buy some breathing room?”

“I think we had better save this conversation until we are indoors and out of hearing,” Therese retorted, her voice cool and measured.

“Yeah, and to give you time to come up with some slick answer,” Fatima muttered back. But they both dropped the subject.

It was, as much as Nadia hated to admit it, a worryingly good question. No government had yet kept up its end of the deal with them, and she wasn’t expecting Therese’s friends in Brussels to be an exception. Never had, really. To her credit, Therese hadn’t wasted time offering any kind of formal deal to begin with; she would help and shelter them because they shared an enemy, and to buy peace for her husband’s ghost. But she wasn’t their friend and didn’t pretend to be. Nadia respected that, even as she missed Keisha more with every day.

The elderly couple who ran the boarding house were not, as far as Nadia knew, members of the Scion church themselves, but they had a number of tenants who were, and a good word from them was enough to squeeze in six new residents in a pinch, even when they were clearly not blood relations. They had some very firm rules about what went on in their house—rules strongly encouraged by the White regime—so Aare and Yuri were roommates at one end of the hall, while the three girls shared another adjacent to Therese’s. Much as Nadia approved of their intentions, living in close quarters with Fatima and Maria together was proving to be an even more uncomfortable experience than she would have expected.

For now, though, they had lunch waiting for them at the table, real rich Russian fare of the kind Nadia hadn’t tasted in years. The buckwheat kasha was swimming in butter and the soup had generous dollops of sour cream. If it hadn’t been the week before Lent, there would have been beef as well, but Nadia supposed she should be picking that part of observance back up anyway. After lunch they retreated to their room for the promised talk—after evicting a barely-decent Yuri from the room.

“Dammit, it’s not fair,” he protested as they pushed him out into the hallway. “I saved all your asses! Like, three times!”

Fatima counted on her fingers. “Three? Where are you getting three from, little boy?”

“I don’t care,” Nadia interrupted. “They have rules here, and we can’t afford to attract attention. Stop being selfish, Yuri. And zip up your fly!” She forced the door shut and turned around to confront Maria. “And you! Don’t you have any more sense than that?”

Maria lay back in her bed, her clothes and her attitude now equally unruffled. “It’s not like he takes very long. Anyway, the old people are busy downstairs, cleaning up that vile slop they call lunch.”

Fatima, who probably hadn’t understood a bit of the conversation, appealed to Therese. “C’mon, Frenchy, lay down the law here. We need to see some consequences.”

‘Frenchy’ was unmoved. “I am not your mother,” she said, in English. “And it’s not as though she does anything else useful. I’ve told you, the whole Karimi family is trouble.” She switched to Russian to say, “If they catch you, you’re out on the streets. I won’t protect you.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Maria replied. “Why are you all in here?”

“Nothing we need you for,” Therese said. She opened the door again; Yuri had moved on. “Out.”

“This is my room. Where else am I supposed to go?”

“You missed lunch. You might not be too late.”

“You expect me to eat that—“

Therese pulled her off the bed by one arm and threw her out into the hallway. “I’m sure you have had plenty of practice swallowing things you would rather spit out. Eat or don’t eat, but leave.” And she shut the door. “This situation is ridiculous,” she declared, in English once more.

“Tell me about it,” Fatima said. “Like, seriously. Tell me. What the hell is going on, and are you going to bail on us?”

“You can’t stay in this region for long; that should be obvious. We’re doing what we can to destroy the security apparatus here while the Knyazya are blind, but sooner or later they will move new forces in and crack down. I’d like you out of the oblast by Sunday.”

“Sure, as long as we can get an ambulance or something for Rus. He pulled me out of the fire—or thought he did, not his fault he’s kind of a dipshit—and I’m not going to leave him behind.”

“Moving won’t help much, if you do that. It is much easier to search for a comatose boy on a ventilator than for one who can walk around and evade pursuit. The rest of you don’t need to be cared for by doctors and nurses, or leave medical records behind.”

“The doctor said he might wake up at any time,” Nadia said.

“Fine. How long do we wait?”

“As long as it takes,” Fatima said, folding her arms. “If you want to move on, we’ll manage without you.”

“With what money, what resources? You weren’t doing so well when I found you.”

Nadia put up a hand. “What if we distracted them?”

“’We’ meaning you?” said Therese.

“I was thinking it over, during lunch,” and after, until hearing that going on in my bedroom drove it all out of my head, “and this is a kind of race, isn’t it? We have been hurting Russia to put pressure on them, so they hurt America and Europe, to pressure right back, to see who loses their nerve first. I think it’s good for Fatima to stay and keep an eye on Ruslan, and for you to help them, but we didn’t come north to live quietly. We came to end the war, and punish people like Mila and Yefimov. If Yuri and I, at least, move the pressure somewhere else, they won’t be able to crack down so hard here.”

Fatima’s smile was much more open and earnest than her usual knowing smirk. Therese was less enthusiastic. “Just the two of you?”

“I’d hope you would give us some support, but yes. If it’s to save my family, I can do it, and Yuri has already proven himself.”

“He has,” Fatima added eagerly. “You weren’t there on Sunday—he really did save us. I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t been right there. He saw them out sniffing for us with the dogs, and told me I had two minutes to get clear with Rus, then bolted out the door like a bunny rabbit, no hesitation at all. Shum burned the Lamprey’s whole crew to ash. I’ve got to give him props for that. We wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t stepped up when it mattered.”

“This is supposed to reassure me?” Therese’s lip curled up. “He burned down half that town. He wasn’t motivated by anything like heroism. He was only bored, and looking for an excuse. If you set him loose with only her to supervise him, he will escalate the situation further. That won’t help anything, and I won’t support it.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Nadia said. “I know Yuri better than anyone, and I know his motives aren’t usually good, but that … I don’t think that was all selfish. We are still his family, you know. Even if Shum-Shum was egging him on—and I wish he had a better emissant, that didn’t cause so much unnecessary damage—“

“Two hundred dead, close to a thousand wounded, many more homeless,” said Therese. “Your brother is a menace and you can’t hope to use his power responsibly. Don’t talk like a child.”

“You barely even know him,” Nadia began, before a thumping at the door interrupted them. “Oh, what is it now?”

Yuri’s voice came from the other side. “Tall, dark, and creepy’s doing something really fuckin’ weird. Like, even weirder than usual. You’d better check it—hey!” Therese’s hand was on the doorknob before he finished speaking; she shoved him out of the way and sprinted down the hall to the room he shared with Aare, trailing a long stream of French obscenities.

Nadia and Fatima caught up with her as she was struggling, in spite of their comical size disparity, to move Aare onto his side in bed. The big man was rigid and quivering, his eyes rolled back in a purple face. Even with the two of them to help, it wasn’t easy to shift him. They got him all the way over seconds before he vomited his lunch onto the floor.

Fatima, who had his head, screamed and jumped back. “What the hell?”

“He’s having a seizure,” Therese said.

“He’s epileptic? Does he have medication for that?” Nadia scanned the room for a bottle.

“No, and no. I have known him for years. He isn’t epileptic; they don’t train people with nervous disorders for paraphysical specialties.” Yuri ambled into the room after them, his hands in his pockets. “You! What was he doing when this started?”

“Topping off that,” he said, pointing to an open metal can slowly leaking misty white ectoplasm onto the hardwood floor by the closet. “Which is about all he ever does. Then he dropped it, and grabbed his head, and made this weird squeaky grunt. Then he fell back on the bed and started doing whatever that is, and then I went and got you. Why? You think I made him do it?”

Therese pulled out a phone and dialed 113. She was out of the door before they picked up, leaving the three of them with her ailing colleague and his. Fatima bent down, picked up the kitty, and twisted the valve shut before it could leak any more or get vomit on it. Aare was still jerking and seizing. Nadia looked at Fatima, who looked at Yuri; none of them had any idea what to do, but they didn’t feel good leaving him.

Several awkward minutes passed. Yuri shrugged and sat down on his own bed, watching Aare quiver with mild, morbid interest. Outside, they heard Therese talking into the phone very rapidly and in an increasingly poor temper. At last she swept back inside, nearly hitting them with the door.

“It will take time to get an ambulance,” she announced. “They are suddenly flooded with calls, and have ‘technical difficulties,’ they say.”

“Flooded with calls? On a Wednesday afternoon?” Nadia said. “Has something happened?”

“They wouldn’t tell me.” She scowled down at the vomit for a second, then dialed another number. It rang several times on the other end, before a machine picked up. Therese swore, ended the call, and tried another, with the same result.

“Who are you calling?” Fatima asked her.

“Anyone I can,” she snapped back. “Shut up, I need to concentrate.” But number after number got the same result, and after a few minutes she gave up. “Something is wrong.”

They all looked at Aare, his jaws still clenched, the rest of his body twitching erratically. “Yeah, we got that,” Yuri said. Therese swept back out of the room without responding.

Thirty seconds of awkward waiting later, they heard her phone ring; Yuri jumped up and dashed out the door to eavesdrop, Fatima close behind him. Nadia dithered for a moment, then sat down with a sigh on Yuri’s bed so she could keep an eye on Aare.

She waited the better part of five minutes before Therese came back, looking angry. “Get up, we have to go.”

Nadia leapt to her feet, carefully avoiding the mess on the floor. “And him?”

“We have done all we can for him. Something is going on, and I don’t know what, but we can’t stay here.” She grabbed Nadia’s hand to drag her down the hall.

“Ouch! Let go! What is—what’s going on?”

“At least three other clairvoyants in this oblast are having seizures,” she said, hauling Nadia toward the stairs. “All started around the same time, as far as I can tell. I have no idea how. And the ‘technical difficulties’? A halo around the hospital we just left!”

“Oh, god!”

“Yes. I’ve already told the others. We’re taking the car this time, and to hell with plate-tracking.” Her short legs took the stairs two at a time, and Nadia struggled to follow. “First we find out what’s going on, then—nom de dieu! Where did Fatima go?”

Yuri’s head popped up from the dining room table, his mouth messy with sour cream. “She went out the door as soon as you went upstairs to get Nadia,” he said. “I figured you told her.”

From outside, they heard the squeal of tires, and an engine roaring its way down the road. Therese blanched, and stuck her hand into her coat pocket, fishing around desperately for several seconds. When she came up dry, she let out a string of curses, in five or six different languages, strong enough to peel the paint off the walls.