The Collected Christopher Connery (33 page)

“I’m beginning to think it can be. Under certain
circumstances.”

Gail turned her gaze back to the ceiling as she tried to
organize a response. “It’s not – look, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,
okay? I just don’t like having Xavier involved in this. I told him what I could
and he made a choice, but still, I don’t think he really understands what he’s
getting in for.”

“We could go back to the hotel, but…”

“But when you did your magic tonight, it told you that
Connery is somewhere nearby?”

“Yes,” Nia confessed. “I can’t get an exact location.
It’s too faint and I think the signal is getting confused by the magic in that
gentleman who attacked Mr. Rivers, but it’s the only sign I can find, so if
it’s not here, it’s not anywhere.”

And that would be too much to hope.
“Well, we
can’t leave Xavier alone here if one of Connery’s traps could be in his
backyard.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“Fine. I guess we’ll just have to get it done as quickly
as possible.

“Yes, of course. I’ll start early tomorrow. I could even
start tonight, but the rain makes searching –”

Gail rubbed her aching eyes. “I’m being an asshole again,
aren’t I?”

“What? No, I –”

“No, I am.” Propping herself up on one elbow, Gail
brushed a lock of hair off of Nia’s forehead. “Sorry, princess. None of this is
your fault. I’m just – it’s been a long day and things aren’t going as smoothly
as I’d like them too, but there’s nothing you can do about that. Maybe I’ll
take a walk tomorrow morning, clear my head a bit.”
There are some things I
should see.

When Gail held out her arm, Nia shifted closer to rest
her head on Gail’s chest. “Do you want company?”

“Nah, not on this one, princess, but you can come next
time, promise.”

Nia nodded against Gail’s shoulder. “I’ll get some work
done while you’re out.”

Knowing that Nia’s feelings were probably still a little
bruised, but not knowing how else to explain herself, she settled for stroking
Nia’s hair until the other woman’s breathing deepened into sleep.

Gail stayed awake a while longer, listening to the rain
drum on the roof. Even if there were still cracks of misunderstanding between
them, she was glad Nia was there. Her warm, easy-sleeping presence helped keep
any dark memories at bay and, sooner than she expected, she too slipped into
sleep.

A slow gray drizzle persisted into morning. It was cold,
wet, and unpleasant, but knowing the weather was unlikely to get any better as
the day wore on, Gail pulled on her poncho and ventured out into the damp while
everyone else was still asleep.

Wet Blessing was pretty much how she remembered it,
crooked hovels hastily erected in the vain hope of keeping out the storms. It
was early days yet, but she could already see the toll the rainy season had taken.
The ground was littered with fallen clotheslines and abandoned wood and metal
that proved too rotten to be good for leak-patching. In drier months, this spot
would be alive with people at this time of day, men and woman heading out to
scrounge for food or carrying buckets to the distant water pumps, but today,
everything was silent and still, as if there were no people living there at
all.

But Gail knew better. They were just hiding. Or dying. Or
both.

The river licked hungrily at the bank, splashing up to
slap the underside of the old stone bridge which seemed to be still standing
out of habit alone. By season’s end, the river would rise to twice its current
height. The people who lived here would be forced to crowd on to higher ground
or simply be flooded out. One tin house near the water had already been
abandoned, the eastern wall knocked in by the wind. A child’s dress hung out
through the hole, flapping weakly in the breeze as it was slowly pulled down
toward the river by the grasping water.

Gail waited where she was for a while, wanting to see
some movement – perhaps even the child returning to claim her dress – but here,
even a drizzle was enough to keep everyone huddled inside their ramshackle
houses. Finally, she had no choice but to turn her back on her old home and
walked back to Xavier’s.

When she got back, Arthur and Xavier were out in the
garage. Though she wanted nothing more than to get back to the house and out of
the chilly wet, she stopped to watch for a moment. Arthur was elbow deep in the
engine of Xavier’s old truck. Xavier said something about paying Arthur for his
trouble, but Arthur flatly refused.

“It’s the least I can do,” he said as he wiped his hands
on a bit of rag. “And I’d like to help out, if I can.”

Xavier showed his gratitude by kissing Arthur on the
cheek, with no care for the oil streaking his face. Arthur cleared his throat
as he turned back to the truck, but even from the back, Gail had a feeling he
was smiling.

This could end painfully for everyone involved,
she
thought as she walked back to the house, but she was smiling too. Doc deserved
a little sunshine in his life, she figured, even if – like actual sunshine – it
couldn’t last.

When she came through the front door, carefully slipping
her poncho over her head and hanging it up to dry without touching the slick
outside, she found Nia sitting at the kitchen table, making notes on a sheet of
paper and checking periodically in a thick book by her elbow. Several coffee
mugs stood around the table like cracked sentries.

She looked up when Gail came in, setting down her pencil.
“How was your walk?”

“Wet, mostly,” Gail replied, forcing a grin. They had
spent enough of these past few weeks rubbing shoulders with the dead, Gail
didn’t need to add her own ghosts to the mix. “How’s it coming?”

Nia’s scowl told the whole story. “Not well. I’m trying
to refine the location spell, but it’s taking time. The spells just weren’t
designed for such detailed work.” Then she smiled a brittle smile that looked
about as natural as Gail’s grin had felt. “But nothing worth doing comes
easily! I’ll keep at it and I’m sure I’ll find the answer soon.”

Not liking the edge to Nia’s determined cheer, Gail
picked up one of the mugs from the table and filled it with the tea Xavier had
left on the stove before joining Nia at the table. “Here,” she said, nudging
the tea toward Nia. “Don’t run yourself ragged, princess.”

“I won’t.” Nia’s forced smile softened a little as she
picked up the offered mug and took a sip. “But I have a plan. It will just take
a little time to put it in motion. Never fear, detective, I expect we’ll have
Connery in hand before too long.”

Another day passed, then two, then four, then six, and
Nia still did not have Connery in hand. She was grateful that Mr. Rivers seemed
happy to have their company, because at this point, she had no idea when they
would be able to leave. By drawing until she thought her hands would fall off,
she had managed to increase the accuracy of her location spell by 15%. Had she
been home at the Academy, that would have been cause to publish an article and
perhaps earn herself a promotion, but out here in the field that 15% might as
well have been 0% for all the good it did her.

No matter how many times she tried, all her spells found
was the dead man lying in the toolshed. She could feel the faint pulse of
Connery’s magic permeating the whole area, but despite all her effort, the
spell was not precise enough to focus on it.

It has to be here somewhere. Even if my mind is
playing tricks on me, there is no way that man wandered far from the last
hiding place, not magic-addled as he was.
 

At least the Academy hadn’t sent her any more messages.
Of course, they
couldn’t
send her any messages until she informed them
of her current location, but it still helped her breathe a little easier to
know that she didn’t have to be constantly checking over her shoulder for the
news of her imminent replacement. As one week bled into two, she became certain
that the only thing delaying her removal from the case was their inability to
locate her. Eventually, they would send out other Illuminators to track her
down and if they found her stymied, her replacement was assured, but if she
could put her hands on Connery in time… They still might scold her for not keeping
in proper contact, but the case would be a success,
her
success. She
only needed to see it through to the end.

But she was running out of time.

And then there was Arthur. She knew something was going
on between him and Mr. Rivers. She suspected that the seeds of this something
had been planted back when they had been staying at the hotel. She also
suspected that Gail knew and had said nothing. She wanted to be angry, but she
knew she didn’t have the right. Gail was Arthur’s friend; she had a right to keep
his secrets, even from his sister and her… well, whatever Gail considered Nia
to be.

She also knew that at least Arthur knew that she knew.
They had never been good at keeping secrets from one another and she would have
to be blind not to see the meaningful glances and casual touches. She didn’t
know what Mr. Rivers thought, but he had never looked at her unkindly, so
hopefully he didn’t see her as a threat to Arthur’s happiness, though that was
exactly what she was. Not by choice, never by choice, but her duty was
absolute. Ignoring a dance or even a stolen evening or two was one thing, but
this… this could not be allowed to continue. The longer it went on, the more
painful it would become for everyone involved.

And yet still she hesitated, cowardly avoiding Arthur’s
eyes and pretending not to see that he was no longer sleeping on the couch
downstairs. As the second week wore on, however, she knew she could delay no
longer. Soon, either she would have her breakthrough and they would find
Connery, which would mean leaving, or the Academy would replace her, which
would also mean leaving. Either way, their time here was nearly through and she
needed to make certain Arthur understood.

So one evening, when Mr. Rivers was laid up with an
aching chest cold, and Gail had elected to turn in early to, as she put it,
‘sleep the boredom away,’ Nia followed Arthur into the kitchen when he went to
make a pot of a coffee.

He looked up when she came into the room and, for a
moment, he looked like he wanted to flee. Instead, he pulled another mug down
from the cabinet and said, “Do you want some, Ni?”

“I would love some, thank you.” Nia sat down at the small
table and after a few quiet moments, Arthur joined her with two steaming mugs.
For a while, they sat in silence, the only sound coming from the ticking clock
on the wall. It wasn’t uncommon for Nia and Arthur to sit quietly together just
enjoying each other’s company, but tonight there was a tension hanging between
them like a fog.

Nia hated it, but she could only manage to say, “Are you
having a nice time here?” as she stared into her coffee.

Arthur shrugged. “I suppose so. Are you?”

“Of course!” Nia chirped.

That earned her an arched eyebrow. “You’re half-killing
yourself with work.”

“Ah, well, all right, yes, perhaps I’m not enjoying that
part,” said Nia. “But otherwise… otherwise it’s been… nice.”

The awkward conversation dried up and they went back to
quietly nursing their coffee. Another five or so minutes passed until Nia
simply couldn’t stand it any longer. “Arthur.”

“Ni?”

She sat there for an endless moment, her mouth half open.
Then she said, “Nothing. I should probably get back to work. We can talk
tomorrow.” Leaving her coffee on the table, she stood and almost fell over her
own feet in her haste to leave the kitchen. She had made it halfway across the
living room when Arthur said, “Ni.”

Turning around, she saw Arthur standing in the kitchen
doorway.

Nia crossed her arms over her chokingly tight chest,
gripping her elbows in both hands. “I’m sorry, Arthur. I wish I could change
it, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

She hadn’t known exactly what to expect as a reaction:
bitter sarcasm maybe or anger that she had broached the subject at all, but
Arthur only looked at her sadly and said, “I know.”

“But I –” Nia’s eyes were stinging and she had to blink
hard to keep tears from running down her cheeks.

“Oh, Ni, don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying.” But she let Arthur wrap his arms around
her and hug her against his chest anyway. “I don’t want to see you sad, Arthur,
but there’s nothing I can do.” She shook her head. “We should have just gone
back to the hotel and avoided this entire…”

“No, I’m glad we came here.” Arthur took her by the
shoulders and pushed her back just a little. He was smiling, but it was the
saddest smile Nia had ever seen. “I know it’s just for a little while, but it’s
okay. It’s not your fault; it’s just… what it is. He understands too. We’ve
discussed it.”

“How do you discuss something like that?” Nia asked in a
small voice.

Arthur laughed flatly. “I’d be lying if I said it was
fun, but it had to be done. He pretty much knew the score before I even said
anything. I think Gail dropped a hint or two. I just had to give him the
details. Now, stop crying, Ni.”

“‘Knew the score,’” Nia echoed, shaking her head. “You’ve
been spending too much time with our dear detective. And I am not crying.” She
wiped her face on her arm before lifting her eyes to Arthur’s. “Maybe I can –”

“No, there’s nothing you can do. You know how the
Directors would react. They would strip you of your rank for even suggesting
it.”

He was right, of course, and it wasn’t as if Nia could
simply leave him behind, claim that she lost him or that he had run away. Not
only would it break her heart, but bound ward like Arthur, with no way of
hiding his magic, would be easy for the Academy to find. And once they tracked
him down, Mr. Rivers would be accused of harboring a dangerous fugitive, which
could mean years behind bars.

Once again, Arthur seemed to know just what she was
thinking, because he squeezed her shoulders and said, “There’s nothing you can
do, Ni, so stop worrying.”

I’m your sister,
she thought.
There should be
something I can do.
But knowing that would make both of them feel worse,
she fell back on their tried-and-true method for curing sadness when they were
children, “Do you want to read with me?’

Arthur smiled. “Sure.”

As they settled down together with their chosen book – a
novel that Xavier had recommended to Arthur – across their knees, Nia asked
Arthur if his binding felt all right and he nodded. “Sometimes it aches in the
mornings, but I don’t think it’s any weaker.”

Nia fiddled with a page. “Maybe when we get back to the
Academy, I can find a way to stop it from hurting – without redoing it, of
course.”

“I’d appreciate that. Thanks, Ni.”

They read silently for a while, shoulder to shoulder,
until Nia’s eyes, which were worn out from a day of squinting at spells, could
no longer follow the small print. Then Arthur read aloud until Nia lost the
thread of the story and fell asleep against his shoulder. Someone must have
found them later, because when she woke up early the next morning, there was a
blanket spread over them and the book had been placed back on the table.

When she shifted, Arthur lifted his head off of hers,
wincing as he rubbed his neck. “You make a bad pillow.”

“You serve,” Nia replied, smiling.

“Hah.” Arthur moved to stand, but froze halfway, one hand
grabbing at his chest.

“Are you all right?” Nia asked with sudden panic, leaping
up from the couch.

Arthur stayed rigid with pain for another moment, then
relaxed and straightened with no trouble. “I told you, it hurts in the
mornings, but it passes.” He shrugged. “Maybe it will fix itself, given time.”

There was so much hope in his voice that Nia didn’t have
the heart to say she doubted it. Weakened bindings were a rare thing and not
because most bound wards never had their bindings compromised. Weakened
bindings were rare because they usually became broken bindings.

But that wouldn’t be the case for Arthur. He wouldn’t be
exposed to any further magic until they returned to the safety of the Academy.
Nia would make sure of that. She would protect him.

Yes, because you’ve done a wonderful job of that so
far.
She tried to shove that doubting voice away, but it continued
whispering hatefully in the back of her mind.

Overhead, she could hear Xavier and Gail stirring,
heralding the start of another frustrating and likely fruitless day. In the
gray light of morning with her worry for Arthur and her frustration at her
failure hanging heavily on her, she was tempted to give up. How easy it would
be to simply write the Academy a one sentence message informing them that she
was surrendering the assignment to whoever was willing to take it on.

But how could she quit? How could she give up after
coming so far? In that case, it would have been better to have never taken the
case at all.

Reading her thoughts, Arthur reached out and made a mess
of her already tangled hair. “You’re going to burn yourself out, Ni. You need
more rest.”

More noise from upstairs. Water began to bang through the
old pipes.

Obeying a sudden impulse, Nia hugged her brother tightly
one more time, not caring if he laughed at her. But he didn’t. Instead he just
returned the embrace, his cheek pressed against the top of her head.
“Everything will be all right, Ni.”

It wouldn’t be, not really, but she couldn’t say so.
Pulling back, she tried in vain to brush her hair into some semblance of
neatness. “What are your plans for today?”

“I’m not sure,” said Arthur, allowing her to move on to
less painful topics. “One of the neighborhood generators has gone down again,
so I might look at that, and Xavier asked if I could check on the Curon girl.
Do you remember her? I set her arm a few days ago after she broke it trying to
climb a fence. I want to make sure its healing properly.”

“Poor thing…” Nia murmured. She had never broken any
bones and just the thought made her rub her own arm protectively.

“She should be just fine. Kids mend better than adults and
she’s tough. She hardly cried when I set the bone. I bet she’ll be back on that
fence again as soon as she’s able. Either way, it’ll probably be a busy day.”
He was smiling when he said it though, smiling as warm and bright as a bar of
sunlight on a cloudy day.

The guilt and sadness roared over Nia again, almost
choking her with its ferocity, but she forced it away from her face, back down
into her heart. Showing her sadness would only remind Arthur of his own. “Well,
it sounds like you have plenty to do. I should get back to work as well.”

“Ni?” Arthur said as she turned away.

“Hm?”

“Be careful.”

Nia looked at him in confusion, but he had already
stooped to collect the abandoned book and blanket. When he straightened up, the
blanket draped over one arm, he was smiling again.

Nia put on her own brightest smile in response.
“Honestly, Arthur, what on earth do I have to be careful of? Now, why don’t we
get the coffee started before Mr. Rivers and Gail come down?”