Flux Page 18

  The only thing Deller had told her was that the Jinnet would ask her to explain her ability to travel the levels and describe her encounter with Fen. After hinting they might also ask for a demonstration, he’d left the rest to her imagination. Uneasily Nellie glanced at the hunched figures surrounding her. What would they think if they saw her open a gate and step through it to another level? Probably get all uptight and start calling her a sarpa or rerraren. Filled with misgivings she turned toward Deller, but he was standing with his back to her, engrossed in a conversation with a man who smelled as if he made his living selling fish. If she was going to check this place out, it looked as if she was going to have to do it on her own. Tugging at her kerchief to make sure it was firmly tied, Nellie began to push her way through the throng of hunched shoulders and careful voices that separated her from the big shots seated at the front of the room.

  Suddenly her brain tilted dangerously, swinging so deep into the shrill singing of stars she thought she might pass out. When the sensation faded she tuned into the molecular field, scanning it for signs of flux but could find no shimmering undulations, not a single gate running the walls, ceiling or floor. Confused, she checked midair and again found nothing. For a long stretched moment Nellie dragged her gaze once more across the room, searching for a hairline crack, any shadowy seam in the molecular play of energy. About her people pulsated as figures of light. Excess energy rose wing like from their bodies, and she could almost see the thoughts throbbing in their brains.

  Then ahead of her, a single narrow seam came into focus. Quickly Nellie tuned out of the molecular field, eager to discover the gate’s exact location, and found herself staring directly at a woman who was seated behind the table at the front of the room. Unable to believe her eyes, Nellie tuned back into the molecular field and the gate came into focus, but though she gazed intently she could find no sign of the woman’s presence. The gate seemed to be hovering midair, unattached to anything in the surrounding dance of energy.

  Bewildered, she tuned out of the molecular field and stood staring at the woman. How was it possible for someone to exist as a solid reality, but not as energy? Biting her lip, Nellie tuned into the molecular field one last time and probed the area around the gate with her mind. An immediate sensation of deadness hit her, a heaviness that latched onto her thoughts and dragged them downward. Frantically she tuned out of the molecular field and took several steps back. As she’d thought, the gate was running directly through the woman’s body, but it appeared to be a body without a soul.

  Instinctively she made the sign of the Goddess and began backing toward the door. Never in all her days had she encountered a gate within a person’s body, nor had she seen someone who didn’t show up in the molecular field. Obviously this woman was doubled. Nellie had no idea what lived on the other side of this particular gate and she had no intention of finding out. Too bad if Deller had staked his reputation on her cooperation, she hadn’t agreed to cooperate with a doubling. True, most doublings came and went like a sneeze, just a quick sense of something there and gone. The odd one stuck around longer—a few hours, maybe a week—and during this time the person who’d been doubled could exhibit strange behaviors, sometimes merely quixotic, sometimes dangerous and unearthly. But at some point the doubling ended and the person returned to normal. Most left no side effects beyond temporary dizziness or headaches, and some healers and witches were rumored to seek them out.

  This doubling was different. The woman seated behind the table looked normal enough—plump and middle-aged, hair in a bright orange perm and chatting animatedly—but her molecular field ... her body... had been permanently breached end to end, and her soul stolen.

  Whimpering, Nellie wormed her way through the crowd. Since her arrival the gathering had grown and now stood packed shoulder to shoulder. From the front of the room came the ringing of a bell. Voices stilled as people turned from individual conversations toward the sound. Several feet from the door, Nellie continued to squeeze determinedly between bodies. She could hear someone addressing the crowd, and the ripple of laughter that came in response. Almost at the exit, she paused and observed the man in the black cap who was standing guard. Eyes fixed on the front of the room, he seemed caught up in the speaker’s words. Carefully she eased behind him and gripped the doorknob. Easy now, just a quick turn to the right—

  “Where d’you think you’re going?” Turning swiftly, the guard grabbed her wrist. Nellie kicked savagely at his shin, but the burly man simply wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet. Suddenly she was walking air, her arms pinned, with nothing to bite or scratch as she was lugged through the crowd to the front of the room.

  “What’s happening, Millen?” asked a male voice as she was dumped onto her feet before the table.

  “She was trying to get out.” The guard grabbed Nellie by the back of the neck and forced her head downward, keeping her at arm’s length so she couldn’t scratch or bite. “Going off to report, probably.”

  An ugly murmur rose from the crowd and all Nellie could think of was her butt flying high, ripe for kicking. Then Deller’s voice threw itself above the noise, shouting to be heard.

  “No!” he called frantically. “She’s the girl I brought to tell you about Fen. She’s here to help us.” Scuffling and panting erupted behind Nellie’s butt and then she saw a pair of runners appear to her left. “Let her go,” Deller said to Millen. “C’mon, what’s she going to do?”

  “She was trying to get out,” Millen repeated, giving Nellie’s head another downward thrust. Pain shot through her neck and she grunted under her breath.

  “She was probably looking for me,” Deller said quickly, poking Nellie’s shoulder. “Right, Nellie? You couldn’t find me and you got scared, right?”

  “Yeah,” Nellie croaked to the floor, and the vice-like grip slowly released her neck. She straightened, swaying slightly.

  “Put her over to the side, Millen,” said a bearded man seated at the center of the table. A quick glance told Nellie she’d seen him before, probably working the docks by the river. The man’s eyes passed carelessly over her and he said, “We’ll deal with a few things while her head clears.”

  A throat coughed to his left, and someone else said, “Perhaps we should question the girl before we discuss anything in front of her.”

  A murmur of assent rose from the crowd and Nellie’s eyes shot toward the second speaker. For a moment she stood blinking, unable to connect the narrow blue eyes, sharp nose and wide thin mouth with the warning that snapped awake in her head. Then she remembered the man she’d seen stepping out of a moment of flux in the corner store wall. Interior Police.

  The bearded man nodded to the Interior agent. “Agreed,” he said, glancing at Nellie. “What’s your name then?”

  Eyes slitted, Nellie stared back at him. Did he know the guy seated two chairs to his right was Interior Police? Maybe he did, maybe all five big shots seated behind the table had secret connections to the Interior. Or maybe only the narrow blue-eyed man did, and no one else realized the Jinnet had been infiltrated. But if she took the risk of identifying the Interior agent, would anyone but Deller believe her? Would Deller?

  “Come on,” hissed Deller, elbowing her. “Answer him.” Slouching her shoulders, Nellie stepped away from him. “Bunny,” she muttered to her feet. “My name’s Bunny.”

  The bearded man glanced quickly at Deller. “I thought you said her name was Nellie?” he said sharply.

  Deller darted a look at Nellie, his face flushed and weasely-looking. Make that weasely-shit-scared -looking, Nellie thought.

  “It is Nellie,” Deller stammered.

  The bearded man looked back at Nellie and she shrugged. “Bunny’s my nickname,” she allowed reluctantly.

  The man’s eyebrows rose. “And your last name?”

  Nellie’s mouth locked tight into silence. No way was she giving her last name with Interior Police listening. As soon as he had it, her surname would b
e on its way to the Interior and a sleek gray van would come heading in her direction, just as it had for her mother. Crossing her arms, Nellie stood mute, staring at the floor.

  “Deller?” snapped the man.

  “I don’t know her last name,” Deller said helplessly. “And I don’t know why she’s acting this way. She said she’d tell you about Fen —”

  “Who’s Fen?” asked Nellie, turning toward him.

  Deller gaped, his eyes bugging. “Fen, my brother.”

  “Never heard of him,” Nellie said flatly. Sticking a finger into her nose, she pulled out a gooey wad and sucked at it. “Yum, yum,” she sang softly, crossing her eyes. “The blind man’s hung by the river and the fish are all waiting, the fish are all wait—”

  “Slap her,” said the bearded man, and Nellie’s head was whacked soundly from behind. Stumbling, she fell against the table. Immediately two hands gripped her face, pulling her forward. “Don’t play games with me, girlie,” hissed the bearded man. “You remember the welcoming committee? You want to see them again?”

  He gave her a shove and she staggered backward, wobbling to a halt beside Deller. So crazy wasn’t going to work, she thought grimly. Well, she’d just have to keep her mouth shut then. There was no way she could freeze a molecular field with this many people, and the only gate in this underground room was in that doubled bitch. Quickly Nellie slanted a glance at Deller. If only she had some way of explaining this to him. Fists clenched, he looked so desperate and pissed-off she knew he would never think of speaking to her again.

  “Okay, so I lied,” she said sullenly to the bearded man. “But it’s not Deller’s fault. He didn’t know. I just wanted to make him feel better about his brother, so I told him a story about finding Fen. I never actually saw Fen—”

  “You took me through the gate in Fen’s old room,” Deller bellowed, hurt pouring out of him. “And you opened the gate at the church and we set a fire, and—”

  “You imagined it,” Nellie said curtly. “He’s got a good imagination,” she added significantly to the bearded man. “People make up stories when someone they love dies. Believe me, I kno—” Just in time she cut herself off. Jamming her hands into her pockets, she tried to stop their shaking. “I told him stories to make him feel better about his dead brother,” she lied steadily to her feet, “and he believed them all.”

  Face incredulous, the bearded man rose to his feet. “Do you know who we are?” he demanded.

  “The Jinnet,” Nellie said immediately. “You’re the resistance that fights the Interior.”

  The man leaned toward her. “And have you heard of the ‘Cup of Tea List’?” he hissed. “You’re getting mighty close to drinking your last cup. Do you want to drink your last cup?”

  Coldness oozed up Nellie’s throat and she shook her head.

  “Let me probe her, Gareth.” A new voice spoke up, so mellow it was almost a caress. Without thinking, Nellie glanced toward the woman seated behind the table and then she was trapped, locked into a deepening stare. At that moment, she knew they knew. The Jinnet knew this woman was doubled, and they were gambling that the power that held her was on their side. But a power like this didn’t take sides, it used whatever came to it for its own purposes. As Nellie’s gaze locked with the woman’s, she felt something unseen slip out of the woman’s body and into her own brain. Deeper and deeper it probed, jabbing fiercely. Agony rocked Nellie’s head, she heard her own groans as if they were a stranger’s. Fight, she had to fight to stay ahead of the pain. If she didn’t, she would be cracked like a nut and all the secrets she was carrying, even the ones she herself didn’t yet know, would be stolen.

  Suddenly an intense blur appeared to Nellie’s right, moving directly toward the table. Still locked into the probe, she caught only a glimpse of a hazy gold-brocaded dress and the flash of a transparent knife as it rose and descended into the face of the woman behind the table. Abruptly the pain in her own head vanished, and she was able to break the probe. Turning, she scanned frantically for her out-of-sync double. There to her right, she was sure she saw the vague shimmer of a gold-brocaded dress disappearing into the crowd. At the front of the room, the woman who’d been probing her now sat holding her orange-permed head in her hands. The crowd waited, holding its breath as she slowly raised her head.

  Nellie could see fear in her eyes.

  “She’s crazy,” the woman snapped. “Out of her head. The reason she didn’t tell you her last name is because she doesn’t know it. Give her the Double Goodbye, then set her loose in the streets. You’ll get no trouble from her.”

  She’s lying, Nellie thought incredulously. Why is she lying?

  “What about the boy?” asked Gareth.

  “The boy is loyal,” said the woman. “He’ll obey orders never to speak to the girl again.”

  “You got that boy?” asked Gareth.

  Sucking in his breath, Deller stiffened, then nodded.

  “Millen,” said Gareth. “You’ve got your orders. Give the girl the Double Goodbye, then dump her on the other side of the river.”

  “And nothing more,” the woman added sharply.

  Stepping up beside Nellie, Millen nodded. With a queasy lurch the room upended, and then Nellie was watching Millen’s meaty butt as he carried her unceremoniously from the room.

  Chapter 15

  WHEN NELLIE CAME TO, she was lying with one arm twisted under her body and the heat of the morning sun heavy on her face. She shifted and felt the scrape of rocks beneath her, smelled the scent of wet earth. A sudden wave of pain rolled through her head, splitting her brain like an overripe fruit. Wave after wave followed, so thick they felt solid, and she curled into a ball, riding them out. She couldn’t think, couldn’t think; there was only the sky-wide pain in her head, the darkness behind her shut-tight eyes, and a single sharp-edged pebble grinding the underside of her arm.

  Gradually the headache began to lift. Pushing herself to a sitting position, she huddled with her face pressed to her knees, waiting for the dizzy swing in her head to sort itself out. When it didn’t, she crawled to the river and submerged her face. Coolness flooded her skin and the dizziness slowed. Settling onto her haunches, she shaded her eyes against the sun and looked around.

  The area looked familiar. Across the river she could see the downtown district and the spire of the Temple of the Blessed Heart with its upraised pleading hands. Relief flooded Nellie and her breathing eased. So, she was still in Dorniver. But how had she gotten to this riverbank? And what had caused the horrible pendulum-swinging pain in her head?

  The inside of her mouth was thick with a phlegmy white paste. Spitting some of it into her palm, she sniffed it and immediately recognized the sickly sweet scent of erva. A wave of confusion hit her and she slumped onto the riverbank, resting her cheek in the mud. What in the Goddess’s name was so much erva doing in her mouth? She hadn’t taken any for at least a year. And none of her previous experiences with the drug had left her feeling as if she’d been kicked in the head with steel-toed boots.

  Vague images flickered through her head. She remembered ... something about being grabbed and swung upside-down. There had been a room of staring people—an underground room—and Deller had been standing beside her. What had they been doing there? Why had he let them do this to her? And where was he now?

  Trailing her hand in the water, Nellie waited, and more images came to her: a table with several seated figures, a woman with a bright orange perm, and the man from the Interior Police. Then one last memory of struggling in darkness while her nose was plugged and a handful of erva forced into her mouth. She’d spluttered and gagged, and then something hard had been pressed to the side of her head and a bright pain had rocketed through her brain, sending her into a long spiral of darkness.

  Sitting up slowly, Nellie trickled handfuls of water over her head and face. Her kerchief was gone, but with the exception of the headache, everything else seemed to be all right. She still hadn’t figured out how
she’d gotten here, but if she filched something to eat the headache would probably let up. Then she would track down Deller and find out what that room of staring people had been, and what exactly had happened to her.

  Unless Deller was in on it too.

  No, thought Nellie, ditching the thought. Deller wouldn’t do that kind of thing to her, not after the trip they’d taken through the levels to see where Fen had disappeared. First things first—she would find something to eat, and sleep off this steel-toed headache. Then she would go looking for Deller. Carefully she ran her fingers over the stubble on her scalp. It was losing its harshness, starting to curl at the tips. Hopefully it had grown long enough to cover the worms unless someone looked real close.

  Clambering up the riverbank, she turned down the first alley she came to.

  SHE SLEPT THROUGH the early afternoon and woke late to the remains of a half-eaten meat pie and the dregs of a bottle of nevva juice. Propping herself against a wall she finished the food, then looked around heavily. The headache had receded to a dull sludge and the dizziness vanished, leaving the confused irritation that usually followed erva. Her joints ached, and her mouth felt dry and thick. Why had she been force-fed such a huge dose? And what was the small object that had sent such a wave of pain surging through her head?

  With a grunt Nellie levered herself to her knees and peered over the windowsill. Below her the street stretched empty and listless, the buildings sharp-edged with sunlight. On the wall opposite a dribbly spray-painted skull leered silently, its jaws rippling in the late-afternoon heat. For the past several hours she’d alternated between dozing and watching through the window. Pullo and Snakebite had come and gone in the early afternoon. Since then she’d slipped across the street twice to look in on the place, but the Skulls’ headquarters had been empty, just a few magazines splayed on the table. She’d considered waiting inside the warehouse, but a glance at the open magazines had been more then enough to change her mind. Besides, she wanted to observe Deller first from a distance, and watch for clues that would tell her if she was still welcome in his life or if he’d been part of the events that had shoved the erva into her mouth and the pain into her head.