Gooseberry Bluff Community College of Magic: The Thirteenth Rib (Kindle Serial) (33 page)

“Not that I recall, no. We didn’t talk that much.”

“Do you know if he ever had students complaining about him?”

“I never heard anything. It’d be better if you asked Edith about that, though.”

“Yes, we will,” said Joy. “Do you know if Chuck and Fredrick Larch were close?”

“Freddie? I don’t think so. Chuck used to make fun of Freddie. Although…”

“Yes?”

“I’m trying to remember.” It had been a faculty development meeting a few years ago; someone had mentioned that Chuck was being very hard on Freddie. “Chuck said something once, about knowing Freddie back in Auckland. I think Chuck went to culinary school there? They have an alchemy/cooking fusion program there. Chuck was trying to start the same kind of thing here, but to be honest, Chuck was really bad with departmental politics. He didn’t have any patience for it.”

“Is Fredrick Larch from Auckland?”

“Well, I guess I thought he was, but that might only be because Chuck said that. If Freddie ever said anything about it, I probably tuned it out along with his weird come-ons.” Zelda shivered. “You think that Chuck and Freddie were both involved in the Heartstoppers?”

“We’re nearly certain of that,” said Joy. “Now that we know about Chuck, we just needed to connect him to Larch. You may have just done that for us.”

“Well. That’s good, I guess. This is all…I had no idea we had any Heartstopper activity here. I just thought Freddie went a little nuts and attacked you.”

“That was the story we put out. The truth is a little more complicated.”

“What do they want?”

“We’re still not sure about that,” said Joy. “I’m sorry; we probably shouldn’t discuss this any further right now. I do want to ask you about someone else, though. How well do you know Ingrid Ingwiersen?”

“Oh my God, is Ingrid involved with the Heartstoppers too?”

Joy hesitated. “Are you friends with Ingrid?”

“No. I hate to say it, but I don’t think Ingrid has any friends. She’s very private; very closed off.”

“Well, we think she may have summoned the demon. Which was originally brought here by the Heartstoppers, we think, but she seems to have been working at cross-purposes with them.”

“Oh God, of course,” Zelda realized. “Because of her sister. No way would she be working with those people.”

“We don’t think so either,” said Joy. “Have you seen her recently?”

“I saw her the other day at the Frog’s Umbrella. The, uh, the vintage dress shop by the town square? She said her roommate had destroyed all of her clothes. I picked out some things I thought might look good on her, just to be nice. She seemed really shell-shocked.”

“Is that the only clothes store in town?”

“It’s the cheapest. There’s a little boutique on the north side that does, what do you call it—bespoke clothes. It’s appointment only. And there are some chains down the interstate, or over in Hudson.”

“All right. I guess that’s probably not much of a lead,” said Joy.

“Actually.” Chills ran up Zelda’s back. “Actually, I just had a horrible thought.”

“What is it?”

“The Frog’s Umbrella. They sort of advertise as having clothes with good psychic residue—supposedly they take off the bad. But I just took some things off the rack and handed them to Ingrid. I didn’t ask what sort of charges were on them, and I don’t think Ingrid did either.”

“OK,” said Joy. “I’m not getting it.”

“My curse,” said Zelda. “My curse just threw the guy I’m in lo—the guy I like off a roof. It’s been building toward this. It always starts small and gets bigger. I wonder—I think one of those dresses I picked probably had the wrong kind of charge on it.”

“You said they take the bad psychic residue off.”

“Sure, but good can be bad in the wrong context. What if the dress had been worn by a wedding planner who summoned perfect weather for her clients? The dress might have residue that would boost a summoning even if the caster didn’t want it to. The demon might have been stronger than Ingrid expected.”

“As far as we can tell, she destroyed it.”

“Did you find her?”

Joy shook her head.

“I’m telling you, this is my curse. I had a moment of weakness in a dress shop, and I sent someone to hell.”

“OK, Zelda, you’re jumping to conclusions.”

“Don’t say that to me!” Zelda slammed her hands down on the table. “No one knows this curse like I do. It’s a killer. Goddammit, I just helped you with your investigation. I wonder how that’s going to backfire.” Zelda was in tears, whether of frustration or rage or fear for Hector she wasn’t sure. “I have to get out of here,” she said. “I’m not going to answer any more questions.”

Joy looked at Agent Gray, who took a sheet of paper from a folder. “This is a standard nondisclosure geas,” he said. “It indem—”

“Fine,” said Zelda. “Whatever.” She scrawled her signature across the bottom of the paper and stood. “Are you going to get out of my way?” she said to Agent Gray.

He glanced at Joy and stepped aside. Zelda brushed past him, out of the room, and ran for the exit.

“She certainly believes all of that,” said Gray after Zelda had gone. “About the curse, I mean.” He picked up the paper.

“Yeah.” Joy would have liked to have gone after Zelda, and if everything hadn’t been coming to a head, maybe she would have.

“You OK?”

“I’m tired,” said Joy. “Is that even binding without the legal incantation?”

“No,” said Gray. “But she’s not going to say anything.”

“I hope you’re right,” said Joy.

“I am. So. What are you going to say to Flood?”

Joy stood up and stretched. “What time do you suppose it is in New Zealand?” she asked.

“What?”

“I’m not going to talk to Flood yet. I’m going to make some calls, and then I’m going to ask some questions. I could use your help.”

“Flood said you’d have to talk to him tonight.”

“What he actually said was: ‘You and I are going to have another long talk before you sleep tonight.’ I’m not going to sleep anytime soon.” She considered Gray’s indigo aura. He was a truth-teller, sure, but just how much truth was he really prepared for?

“What are you up to, Wilkins?”

“Are you Flood’s assistant?”

Gray raised an eyebrow. “No. I think he asks me to stick with him sometimes because he thinks everyone lies to him.”

“OK. Here’s the thing. I’m going to get answers, Gray. I’ve got a lot of pieces, but I’m not even sure how many puzzles they belong to. I need your perfect pitch for the truth, and I need you to get me in to talk to someone I’m not supposed to be talking to. Flood’s not going to like it, and I’ll try to take the heat for that, but I can’t promise to keep it all off you. Am I ringing true so far?”

Gray frowned but nodded.

“Good. So…are you in or are you out?”

In 2005, the Federal Detention Center in Philadelphia had
taken over a neighboring building, torn it down, and built a special holding
facility for magic-using prisoners. Salt-infused stone and tiles had been used throughout
the building, and wards were put up to make the building impervious to spatial
distortion. Its warden was one of the top duelists in the country.

Efforts had been made to create a secure but
humane facility, but no one had anticipated Fredrick Larch. He had created such
a commotion in the original cell he was assigned to—transforming into his
panther form, tearing his mattress to shreds, yowling his protests all
night—that he had been moved into a larger makeshift cell that was supposed to
have been a transition area for new prisoners.

“He’s not happy in there either,” said the guard
who escorted Joy and Gray through the gates. He was a bulky man with a thick
Philly accent, his vowels arcing as though his words were being hurled through
the air. “I could give a shit, honestly. But he seems more animal than human.
Spends most of the time as a cat. They’re talking about building an outdoor
facility for him at the Miami detention center.”

“Has he said anything?” Joy asked.

“Very little. When he wants to be, he can be
very composed. ‘Please’ and ‘thank you’ and ‘good day’—all that stuff. Of
course, he’s naked when he’s saying it, because he won’t wear clothes. That’s
not allowed, of course, but we forcibly put him in coveralls a couple of times,
and he just transformed. Tore them to shreds.”

“I see.” Joy fought back a yawn. It was after
midnight in Philadelphia, and she expected to be up for most of the night. The
yellow and gray of the detention center halls were making her sleepy.

“Here he is,” said the guard. They had reached
the end of a hall; bars enclosed an area with wooden benches on either side and
a toilet in a far corner. A mass of shredded cloth was heaped in one of the
near corners. There was a gate in front of them and another at the opposite end
of the cell, but the hall beyond that was blocked with crates and curtains.

“We had an incident with some of the prisoners
taunting him,” said the guard. “Talking to him like he’s in a zoo. Guess they
forgot they were locked up themselves, or they were trying to.”

At first Joy didn’t see the “him” the guard was
referring to. Then she spotted the two yellow eyes looking at her from the
makeshift bed in the corner.

“Hello, Fredrick,” she said.

“I’ll leave you to it,” said the guard. “We’ve
got a camera on you. No way he’s getting out, but don’t go sticking your hands
in there.”

“Do you have audio?” Joy asked.

“Nah. Lawyers.” There were volumes of meaning
behind that single word, and Joy was sure she only picked up on a fraction of
it. “You’ll have your privacy. When you’re done, just head back the way you
came and I’ll meet you at the gate.” The guard’s footsteps echoed down the
concrete hallway. Joy waited for the clang of the gate behind him.

“Ms. Wilkins.” Larch stood by the gate, his arms
thrust casually through. He was, as the guard had warned, as naked as day. His
aura was still predominantly indigo, but the orange-red corona was shot through
with streaks of bright yellow. He was anxious to the point of desperation.

“Mr. Larch,” said Joy. “I don’t suppose you’d
care to put on some pants.”

“Fuck pants,” he said pleasantly. “This place
makes me claustrophobic. I want out.”

“That’s not likely to happen,” said Joy.

“Not likely means there’s a chance,” said Larch.
“Which means you are here because you want to dangle that chance in front of me
in the hope that I will pounce upon it and trade you something. Information,
perhaps.”

With an effort, Joy refrained from commenting on
his choice of the verb “dangle.” “I see that we understand each other,” she
said. “I’ve heard a bit about the difficulties you’ve been having here. But I
can only promise to talk to some people about housing you in some more
congenial facilities—and only if you cooperate.”

“Who’s your friend?” asked Larch.

“This is Agent Gray,” said Joy. “He’s a
truth-teller. He’s going to let me know when you lie.”

“Ah. ‘When,’ not ‘If.’ What makes you think I’m
a liar?”

“Well, first of all, your name isn’t Fredrick
Larch, is it?”

“Ah.” Larch shifted his posture. “True. An old
lie; I’d almost forgotten.”

“Your original name was Pô, is that correct?”

“What kind of a word is that?” he asked.

“Maori,” said Joy. “It means ‘night.’ That’s
what they named you when you were born, in the Auckland Zoo. Part of their
black panther breeding program. You were a success—but there was more to you
than they realized, wasn’t there?”

“What a fascinating story you tell,” said Larch.
“Shall I tell yours? Rookie agent terrified of her own inadequacy lies to
hundreds of people about who she is, then stumbles upon a break in her case due
precisely to her inadequacy. You spotted the auras of those demon canisters,
didn’t you?”

Joy shrugged. “Does it matter? You’re in here
regardless, and you’re not getting out. And now your family is going to pay the
price.”

Larch cocked his head at her. “My family?”

“Your father died a few years ago, you may have
heard. Leopards in captivity don’t often live more than twenty years or so.
Your mother still lives in Auckland, though. And you had two littermates, Midnight
and Nimbus. Midnight is in the Kansas City Zoo, while Nimbus is in Singapore.
I’ve spoken to the authorities in those cities. We’ve agreed on a course of
action.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Larch
asked.

“Those are your siblings,” said Joy.

“They are not.”

“There it is,” said Gray. “I was beginning to
think you had brought me along for no reason.”

Larch’s aura was swirling confusion and fear. He
licked his lips. “They have nothing to do with this.”

“We know that. We have no reason to think they
were your accomplices. I mean, they all still live in zoos. None of them have
demonstrated the ability to transform into humans, steal the identities of
librarians, and aid terrorist groups in stealing the life force of hundreds of
people. But now that we know there’s an anomaly in their bloodline, there’s a
question as to their value. The entire breeding program is going to be
investigated, top to bottom, to see if any more shape-shifters like yourself have
manifested. And, well, these are animals, not humans. They don’t have the same
rights that you and I…I’m sorry, that
I
have. You’re sort of a question
mark, aren’t you?

“What I’m saying is, your family is the property
of various zoological institutions. And all of those institutions have agreed that,
if we can’t get your cooperation, that property will have to be destroyed, for
safety’s sake. Sort of like a recall on a car with defective brakes. There’s no
way of knowing what might manifest in a family that could produce an
unrepentant sociopath like yourself.”

Joy wondered how badly Gray’s ears were buzzing.
She had managed, in a flurry of calls, to track down Larch’s immediate family,
but the agreement she had just outlined was as fictitious as it was morally
reprehensible. She was counting on Larch’s desperation to sell it for her, as
well as another fact she had uncovered while researching his past: Larch, born
Pô, had been just three when he left the Auckland Zoo for good, and that had
been just eight years ago; he was only eleven years old. Not quite born
yesterday, but close enough, Joy hoped, for his lack of experience to outweigh
his cunning.

“I don’t believe you,” he said.

“Believe it,” said Joy. “You and your
Heartstopper friends have made a lot of enemies, Pô. People are scared and angry.
If you—”

Before she could finish another sentence, the
man had been replaced by the panther. It roared and charged around its cell,
flinging its bed rags across the space. It tore one of the benches from its
bolted foundations and swatted it against the bars, then flung itself against
them. Twice. Three times. Joy fought down the fear she felt at the animal’s
rage. She didn’t think it was possible for Larch to actually break through the
bars, but if he did, she felt sure she would be dead in seconds.

She didn’t hear the gate clang behind her, so
she was startled when the two guards came running up the hall. They were
carrying electrified batons.

“No, no,” she said over the sound of Larch’s
tantrum. “I’ve just given him some bad news. He’ll calm down once he’s absorbed
it.”

The guards were clearly skeptical, but Larch was
already running out of steam. He had stopped throwing himself against the bars
and was simply pacing back and forth, eyeing Joy as he did so.

“We’ll be watching,” said one guard, and they
retreated back down the hall.

When the gate clanged, Larch was back in his
human form, still pacing. “I didn’t expect it of you, Wilkins,” he said. “I
knew you were an instrument of the overlords, but you have the blackness inside
you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” said Joy.

“I’m not talking about your skin, or your race,”
said Larch. “I’m talking about your soul. The overlords of this world, they
serve the darkness. The demons we have brought here are simply a reflection of
what lies inside your presidents and kings; they are no worse than those who
already rule.”

“That doesn’t explain to me why you would bring
the demons here,” said Joy.

“So that the people will see the reflection of
darkness in their leaders, and band together to destroy them all, demons and
tyrants alike. To liberate them all.”

Joy had more than once thought that Larch was
strange, but she had never glimpsed the level of insanity that he was
displaying now. Spittle flew from his mouth; his aura swirled with red and
yellow.

“Why don’t we go back to the beginning,” she
said. “Back to when you met Chuck Hawkins, in Auckland. He was attending the
New Zealand School of Cooking, and you were living in the zoo.”

“Yes.” Larch continued pacing. “I lived in the
zoo. I was born in a crevice of stone—not real stone, of course, but shaped and
painted concrete with a clay surface. My mother took refuge there to give
birth. That was my entire world for a few hours, until the keepers moved us all
behind the scenes for observation. I didn’t know that, of course. All I knew
was that the world had changed from shadowed and red to white and bright. Too
bright. But still small. My whole life was supposed to stay like that, cramped.
Confined. Like this fucking cell!” He kicked the broken bench, and Joy noticed
that his leg was bleeding. Bruises were crowning all over his body.

Joy was impatient to hear about Chuck Hawkins,
but she decided to trust that Larch was getting there. “But you had a way out,”
she said.

“I did. Once, when I was just weeks old, I
changed, and some visitors reported that there was a toddler in the panther
exhibit. By the time the keepers got there I had changed back. They searched
the exhibit and examined each of us, afraid that we had eaten a child. It was
the first time it was really clear to me that the humans were more valuable
than us. Before, the exhibit was just home. After that, it was a prison.

“I found ways to slip out. It took many tries.
It helped to have hands. It helped that the enclosure was outdoors. I found
ways to slip out, to find clothes. At first I just looked around the zoo. That
was as big a world as I could conceive of. Then one day I wandered into
Auckland proper. I met Chuck. He was cooking meat on a grill, and he offered me
some.”

“Was he a member of the Heartstoppers at that
time?”

“That’s not what we call ourselves,” said Larch.
“We’re the Four Corners. To show that we cover the entire world, but that the
world is not limitless, do you understand? Even the wide world, millions of
times larger than that enclosure at the zoo, is a prison.”

“A prison kept by dark overlords. Is that
right?”

“Of course you deny it. You serve them,” said
Larch. “You yourself are a prisoner, but you fool yourself that you are free.”

Joy glanced at Gray. She was finding it
difficult to believe that even someone as odd as Larch could believe everything
that he was saying. But Gray just raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“Where did you learn all this? From Chuck?”

Larch scoffed and shook his head. “Chuck was
weak. We came to the Four Corners together, but his faith wavered. He tried to
leave, once. The Handbook is very clear; no one may leave the group.”

“Tell me about the Handbook.”

Larch seemed about to refuse, but then sighed.
“It was written by Father Light. It’s forbidden to own a copy. I’ve read it
twice, but I had to pass it along as soon as I finished it.”

“There was no geas on it?”

“On the book? No.”

“Who taught you to read?”

“The brothers.” Larch seemed to think that this
explained everything.

“In Auckland.”

“Yes.”

“Here’s where we make our trade,” said Joy. “I
want at least half a dozen names from you. If they check out, we can put a hold
on liquidating your family—for now.”

Larch sat down on one of the benches. He rubbed
his forehead, then stared at his hand. “I don’t hate humans,” he said. “I like
being a human. I like human women.”

We’re losing him, Joy thought to herself.
“Fredrick—Pô—”

“Those aren’t my names.”

“What should I call you?”

“I don’t know yet. My name will come out of the
great turmoil.”

“OK,” said Joy. “I need other names. Will you
give them to me?”

He gave her eight names. Gray nodded his
approval, and they left Larch slumped on the bench.

“That was cold,” said Gray as they made their
way back to the gate.