Firewall (Magic Born) (10 page)

“Ah, don’t pout, Dale.” She winked. “It doesn’t suit you.” She opened the door and waved a hand through the opening. “You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.”

“Ha ha, very funny.” He withdrew his hands as he strode to the door, a small dot of nanofiber designed for eavesdropping gripped between his right index and middle fingers. He stopped in front of her, stroked her cheek with the fingers of his left hand as he snaked his right through her hair to press against her back. “Whatever it is you’re doing, be careful.”

All the teasing humor left her face, replaced by surprise and what might have been tenderness. Before she could say anything, he leaned over and brushed his lips over hers. The contact barely counted as a kiss but somehow seemed infinitely more erotic than her straddling his lap earlier. She raised up to press her mouth to his, her fingers tugging on the center of his shirt. Sensual promise layered over years of desire almost undid his resolve. He wanted nothing more than to say to hell with her meeting and everything else.

Tuyet pulled away. “I have to go. I’m sorry, Dale.”

He forced a smile, happy to feel it becoming real. She really was sorry—he could see it in her face. That was more than he’d expected. “No problem.”

“I’ll call you, I promise.”

He left the apartment. The app on his phone that went with the nanofiber bug he’d planted on her back worked perfectly. He walked back to his hotel listening over wireless earbuds.

Chapter Eleven

Blue Train was a trendy little jazz bar in Midtown full of university students and those who wished they still were. Tuyet winced at her reflection in the beveled glass that flanked the entrance. A braided leather bracelet with various types of polished stone and quartz interwoven in the pattern hid her real face. She should have destroyed the thing years ago, wasn’t even sure why she’d kept it. It was unlikely Hayes still had the matching bracelet.

The glamour was designed to create subtle differences rather than a radical departure from her appearance. It gave her lighter hair and skin, as if the Asian in her was a generation or two removed, along with hazel eyes and slightly plumper lips. It made her uncomfortable at first. Eventually it inspired the creation of a sort of game. For one job she crafted her cover persona a background with parents of German, Chinese and Canadian origin. For another, she gave herself a French-Vietnamese mother and an Irish father who made their home in Italy. Her most elaborate story involved a Ukrainian-Korean father who met his American witch wife when he pulled her out of the sea like a lost mermaid and nursed her back to health on his yacht. Silly fantasies, but it beat the hell out of growing up in an orphanage with no idea who her real parents were.

Tuyet sighed. She wasn’t here to mope.

After hearing about that video from Hayes, she knew she was crazy to still be using this bracelet. She’d established one of her identities here with it, though, and was reluctant to stop despite the fact that there were probably a dozen or so people from her Ranger days who might recognize Tina Jones. She just couldn’t let go. Not yet.

Jason had sent an image of Paula Miller to the darknet chat room the two of them used to communicate. Tuyet made her way through the crush of people until she spotted the young woman at a table for two along the wall. With smooth skin the color of roasted coffee beans, sharp cheekbones, pixie-short hair and deep-set brown eyes, Paula drew a lot of appreciative looks from both men and women in the club. Tuyet admired her sleek, fitted black jacket—real leather. It almost made her miss the days when she could get away with charging something like that to the Rangers for undercover work.

Tuyet mustered a smile and slid into the opposite seat. “Good to see you, Paula. How’s the band tonight? Have they played ‘My Favorite Things’ yet?” John Coltrane’s jazz version of the standard was the signal.

Paula carefully sipped her drink before replying. “Not yet but I hope they will soon.” She tried a faltering smile.

Tuyet nodded encouragement. “Is that one of their mango martinis? I hear that’s the house specialty here.”

“It’s very good. Would you like to order one?”

Tuyet flagged down a waiter. “You’re doing fine,” she said in a quieter voice. “Just relax.”

The waiter arrived to take her order and then disappeared quickly.

Paula rested her elbow on the table and leaned closer. “You would think I’d be better at this by now. The cloak-and-dagger stuff. I just can’t seem to get the hang of it.”

“It’s okay. This meeting isn’t a big deal.” That wasn’t exactly true, but Tuyet didn’t want to rattle the younger woman’s nerves any more than they already were. “Why don’t you tell me about school until my drink gets here.”

Paula complied, gradually loosening up as she spoke of classes and film theory and important documentary works of the past. Tuyet listened carefully, less for the words and more for a sense of Paula herself. What she found was a reasonably self-possessed if somewhat nervous young woman who was passionate about her calling, though a tad idealistic. She wanted to make a difference and believed her short films and interviews showing the truth of New Corinth could do just that. That is, if they could be widely disseminated.

“I get what you’re saying,” Tuyet said. “What I need to know is: What is your goal?”

“My goal? I thought that was clear.”

“You want your films seen by people outside of New Corinth. Okay, fine. Then what? What are you hoping people will do with what they learn?” Tuyet paused, searching for the right words to get her point across but not sound insulting. She couldn’t find them so she went for honesty. “Look. You’re a grad student. You look like you come from a nice upbringing. The people in Rockenbach and FreakTown—that’s not your world.”

Paula’s mouth settled into a hard line. “You think I’m a dilettante.”

“I think you mean well, but without a clear goal I don’t see a point to what you’re doing.” It was what she should have said to Jason, and about this meeting. Vague hope wasn’t going to help anybody, especially not the Magic Born inside FreakTown.

“Awareness is the point. No one knows what’s happening here because corporate media won’t cover it. Every time I upload a video, it’s blocked. And it’s taking them less time to do it now too. The last one was up for twenty-seven minutes. I got an email from my service provider this morning, cutting off my internet. That was the last email I got.”

“You’ve been using your own ISP for this? For real?”

“Of course not, I’ve used a proxy every time. I don’t know how they found me.”

Tuyet did. During her time in the Rangers she’d worked overseas assignments, but she knew other agencies had trancehackers dedicated to domestic surveillance. Once they knew they had a problem, all it took was the right spells and enough power to perform keyword searches that fast. Granted, it would take a hell of a lot of power, likely from more than one witch. If suppressing information about New Corinth was deemed a high priority though, it would get done.

Paula said, “You want to know what I want? What I really want?”

“Yes.”

“I want to be a mother one day. I’m not ready now, I know that. But I know I want a child of my own eventually. The way things are now, I could never risk it.” She paused, visibly working to get her emotions under control. “I want the Magic Laws gone. Everyone I know wants the same thing. We want to marry whoever we choose. We want to have children and not be afraid of them being taken away from us. I’m twenty-four and I don’t know a single person with a sibling. Not one that they know, at any rate. But I do know people who lost a loved one when the ordinance was passed. A lover, a friend. I understand why you think the people of Rockenbach and FreakTown aren’t my people, but you’re wrong.” She paused again to take a deep breath. “This is what I do. I know it’s not much, but I believe it could make a difference.”

Tuyet was used to dealing with tangibles. Missions that had clear objectives. Even now, much of her work for the underground was about concrete things like food, medicine, supplies—whatever FreakTown needed. She’d been so busy focusing on things like that, she’d never stopped to think about something as abstract as getting their stories out. The cynic in her didn’t believe it would make a difference.

But there was a part of her that was tired of being a cynic. Tired of chipping away at the mountain of crap that never seemed to get any smaller. They were losing the battles, at least in New Corinth. Maybe a crazy Hail Mary was what they needed.

Of course, Vadim would never consent to be interviewed. Tuyet couldn’t think of anyone in FreakTown who would. It was far too risky. She might be able to get some of the Normal protesters to talk to Paula. People who either hadn’t been beaten down by their own hopelessness yet or who were enraged by it rather than defeated.

Tuyet studied the filmmaker, taking in details. How the more she’d spoken about her passions, the more confident she’d become. As if declaring her beliefs made them stronger. Whereas she’d been nervous before, Paula now met her eyes, unflinching. Unbowed.

The Magic Born needed as much of that as they could get, at least as much as they needed food. And the protesters too. The women who marched every Friday, carrying signs, thinking about children taken from them by the Magic Laws. Or like in Paula’s case, the women too afraid to risk having a child. Maybe Jason had a point when he talked about controlling the narrative. The Magic Born had no rights. Normals who supported them had been shouted down for decades. Maybe it was time for the two groups to have their say.

“Have you tried having someone take the videos out of town, uploading them from somewhere else?” It would be the simplest solution, but knowing how the domestic surveillance worked, Tuyet didn’t expect much better results.

Paula nodded. “Three times. In each instance, the time it took for the content to be blocked got shorter.”

Tuyet wasn’t surprised. “What about the darknet?”

“I’ve heard of it but I don’t know anything about it. I tried asking a couple of people and all they could tell me was where to go to buy drugs. Jason had to guide me through finding a chat room where I could upload the videos.”

“Give me some time to figure out if I can get your stuff uploaded. Then I’ll talk to people, see who all would be willing to be interviewed. I’ll get in touch with you through Jason. If you have any problems, go to him.”

Paula seemed taken aback, as if she’d been ready to keep arguing her case. “How long do you think it will be?”

“A few days. Maybe a week. Just sit tight, don’t try to upload anything else, at home or anywhere else. Maybe start a new project, something related to music. Another band documentary, maybe. Anything as long as it’s something harmless.”

“Okay, I can do that.”

Tuyet rose to leave. Paula grabbed her sleeve. “You never told me your name.”

The name fell from Tuyet’s lips before she could even think about it. “Tina Jones.”

Paula smiled. “Thank you, Tina.”

The house band was playing “Soul Eyes” as she left. A certain shade of blue fell like a waterfall through her mind, coalescing into a river that led straight to Dale Hayes. Why had she used that name? This particular glamour bracelet? She shouldn’t even still have the damned thing. She should have destroyed it years ago, instead of holding on to it like some kind of talisman. Now she was stuck with it.

Memories assailed her. So many moments stolen under the guise of their married cover story. In private they were careful, so very careful, to give each other a wide berth in hotel rooms and apartments, both afraid to cross a line. But in public they shamelessly used their cover as a married couple to hold hands, to walk arm in arm, to hold each other close as they danced. And to kiss. Intense. Passionate. Pouring everything they couldn’t say, couldn’t acknowledge, everything they wanted and knew they couldn’t have, into the kind of kisses that made others look away, cough nervously, kick them out of restaurants.

A driving rain greeted her as she exited the building. Streetlights were smears of color painted on the night. Saturday night crowds thronged the Midtown entertainment district despite the downpour. Tuyet melted into the sea of people, letting it carry her to the nearest subway station. She made a point of not examining her reflection in the glass and chrome of the train car. Tina Jones needed to be in the past. As soon as she was done with Paula, she would destroy the bracelet.

Three blocks from home, Tuyet ducked into an alley to remove the jewelry. Magic shivered across her skin as the glamour dissipated. Her breath caught at the electric sensation, so like a lover’s touch. She squeezed her eyes shut against it.

Hayes was waiting for her, sitting in the hall with his back to her door.

Her muscles tensed. “I thought I told you to go home.”

“I did, but then I came back.” He stood and moved out of the way so she could unlock the door. “We need to talk.”

“Look, it’s late and I’m tired. Can’t you hassle me tomorrow?” Tuyet entered the apartment, not bothering to try to keep him out. She knew it wouldn’t do any good.

Sure enough, he followed and closed the door behind him. “Okay, don’t get mad.”

“Famous last words of a fool. You really want to do this now?” She found a towel and squeezed water from her hair to keep it from dripping.

He held up his hands in a placating gesture, then dropped them. Scratched the stubble on his chin. Nodded his head. Ran a hand through his messy hair.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Dale.”

“Fine! Okay, I sort of bugged you.”

Tuyet let out a slow, controlled sigh. “Like I said, I’m really tired. You’re gonna have to come back tomorrow for your ritual beating.” He might deserve a beating now, but what Silver Wheels had said about how Hayes viewed their physical fights as foreplay struck her. Silver Wheels wasn’t wrong. The last thing she needed was Hayes turned on, and trying to get her turned on too.

He reached for her as his mouth curved into a sinful smile. “Now, honey, hear me out.”

She slapped his hand away, the brief contact setting a flash fire under her skin. “Don’t you
honey
me, you jackass. Where’s the bug?” The towel slipped from her hands and fell to the floor, forgotten.

“It’s just a little nanofiber thing on the back of your jacket.”

She removed the jacket in jerky motions and threw it at his head. “Get your damn bug and get out.”

“Ow!” He let the jacket fall to the floor and rubbed his left cheek. “I think a button hit me.”

“My fist is next.”

He winked. “Thanks but I’m more of a bondage kind of guy.”

Images tumbled through her mind, dirty and sweet. She grabbed on to the white-hot rage that bubbled underneath and pushed the images away. “Get. Out.”

He raised his hands in supplication. “Okay, clearly I’ve upset you.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“I’ll leave. But first I have to tell you something.”

“The best thing you could tell me right now is goodbye.” It was the meanest thing she could think to say. She hated it, but she wanted him to leave. Needed him to leave.

“You don’t mean that.” He dropped his hands, pain flickering in his blue gaze.

She couldn’t handle the look in his eyes. “Good night, then. I don’t want to fight with you tonight.”

He stalked closer. “Then don’t. Just listen.”

“Make it quick. I want a shower before bed.”

One corner of his mouth quirked up. “That’s a happy thought.”

“Dale, I swear to God.”

“The FBI’s domestic surveillance unit doesn’t have trancehackers anymore. After you left, Special Forces Command almost lost every Magic Ranger unit. The administration was paranoid about the public finding out the government still used witchcraft. Every program went under intensive review. The Rangers got to stay active, but pretty much only because those units are dedicated to overseas missions. There is no more authorized use of domestic witchcraft by the U.S. government.”