Left Hand Magic (21 page)

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Authors: Nancy A. Collins

BOOK: Left Hand Magic
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The audience murmured in agreement, and I saw authentic grief and loss flicker across the faces of those around me, as well as hatred. Although the Unholy War—or the Sufferance, as the Kymerans called it—had ended nine hundred years ago, the horrors born of that dark time were far from forgotten. Esau knew he had his listeners under his thrall, and he was eager to push the advantage. His voice grew even deeper and took on a conspiratorial urgency, as if he shared special knowledge that only the chosen were privy to, forcing his audience to lean forward to hear him.
“My friends, Golgotham is under attack from nump culture! The numps are waging a second Unholy War upon us, and most of you don’t even realize it. The last time they were bold—they took up swords and siege machines against us. But now they must be stealthy and devious, for fear of angering their god, who forbade continued genocide in his name. So now they must work in far more subtle fashion to rob us of our magic.
“This time it’s nothing so crude as snipping off a finger. No, they’re
much
too clever for something like that! Instead, they lure us into dependency upon their damnable technology. What better way to steal our sorcery than to make us as soft and fat and lazy as they are? Why astral-project when you can just pick up the phone or text someone? Why use a scrying device to divine the past when you can Google? Why teleport when you can ride in a car? Why levitate when you can fly in a plane? Why waste the energy to do
anything
magical when you can use the humans’ wondrous technology to achieve the same ends?
“Because we are magical creatures, and technology makes us weak—
that’s
why!”
As I looked around the crowd to try and gauge reactions to the speech, I spotted a teenaged Kymeran with raspberry-colored hair rolling his eyes. Apparently Esau’s message about the corrupting influence of technology didn’t resonate with the younger members of the audience.
“We have already surrendered our dragons and our kingdom to Mankind. Our magic is all we have left. And it is what they fear and crave the most. Once our magic becomes too weak to be of any use to them, the numps will rise up and wipe us from the face of the earth. We will become nothing more than stories they tell their children to frighten them into good behavior, or lull them to sleep, like dinosaurs and cowboys. I don’t know about you, but I do
not
want to live in a world where the only place I can find a centaur or a mermaid is in a picture book!”
That brought the spectators sitting in the balconies to their feet, and for several seconds their applause and cheers made it impossible for Esau to speak. So he simply stood and silently luxuriated in their approval as he waited for the clamor to subside.
“Who can we look to in order to stem this tide?” he asked, once they had finally fallen quiet. “The GoBOO?”
“No!”
came the reply, shouted by button-wearing KUP members scattered throughout the audience.
“The PTU?”
“No!”
These shouts were even louder and more vehement, which suggested a good number of the KUP’s recruits were unrulies with lengthy arrest records.
“Don’t. Make. Me.
Laugh!
” Esau spat, his face contorting in disgust. “They are puppets of the nump mayor and his cronies, and happy to sell out their constituents for a handful of gold from City Hall! The reason I founded the Kymeran Unification Party was to defend the rights of the average Golgothamite against the interests of the encroaching humans and to give voice to those who resent their steadily increasing intrusion into our world! The time has finally come to speak out against the numps usurping our eateries, shops, bars, and homes before they annex Golgotham entirely! If the GoBOO refuses to address the question of nump incursions into Golgotham, then they will find themselves facing a crisis of unimaginable proportions—a crisis of their own making!
“Although the majority of numps are content with slowly weakening us with flashy bits of technology, there are still some who seek to wage war against us as their ancestors once did. I speak, of course, of the so-called Sons of Adam. When I saw the footage of our poor brother Quid, beaten to death by those grunting knuckle-draggers, anger and outrage bubbled in my soul. From that loathing and horror was born a resolve to capture and punish these ape-born savages.
“Starting tonight, I will be sending special citizens’ patrols, composed of KUP members, out into the streets of Golgotham in order to watch for—and take into custody, if possible—the nump known as Cain and the other members of the SOA. When they are caught, I swear, by the blood of my ancestors, that I will do
all
that is in my power to see they are brought to justice by
Golgotham
standards! The crimes they committed were against Golgothamites, and it should be
our
laws, not those of New York City, that ultimately decide their fate!
“I have only one more question to put to you tonight: Who among you are willing to join me in keeping our streets and people safe from the Sons of Adam? Who among you will add your hand to ours?” Esau asked, lifting his left hand over his head as he looked out into the audience.
To my surprise, every attendee on the main floor raised his or her left hand, except me. I nervously looked around and saw Puce Mullet staring in my direction, a confused scowl on his face. He took a couple of steps toward me, sniffing the air like a hound trying to catch a rabbit’s scent. Before leaving the house I had practically bathed in my favorite perfume in order to pass the smell test as a Kymeran; but after nearly an hour spent in a crowded auditorium, I was starting to sweat.
I decided that I had seen enough, and started to slowly inch my way out of the crowd, but Puce Mullet continued to advance toward me. As I turned my back on him, he said something to me in Kymeran. I had no idea what he’d said, except that it was a question of some sort, so I shrugged my shoulders as if to say “Beats me,” while keeping my hands hidden in my pockets.
Within half a heartbeat, Puce Mullet closed the distance between us. As I tried to pull away, he grabbed my left wrist and growled in English: “I
said
: ‘Why won’t you raise your hand?’”
Before I could react, he yanked it free of its hiding place.
“Nump!”
he yelled at the top of his lungs, upon seeing my five fingers. “There’s a nump in the audience!”
Every face turned in my direction. Whether Kymeran, leprechaun, or centaur, they all had the same angry, outraged gleam in their eyes.
“She’s a spy!” a leprechaun wearing a green bowler hat shouted.
“Grab her!”
“I got her!” Puce Mullet twisted my left arm behind my back hard enough to make me yelp.
A huldu with a KUP button affixed to the lapel of his jacket pushed his face into mine. “Who sent you? Who are you spying for? The PTU? GoBOO?”
“I’m not a spy!” I shouted over the jumble of raised, angry voices.
“Not a spy, are you?” snarled the huldu, tugging on my hair. “Then why did you dye this green, eh?”
“I—I—!”
“
Answer me
, nump!” he bellowed, striking me across the face with his tail hard enough that I tasted blood.
Suddenly I was jerked free of Puce Mullet’s grip and pulled up into the air, as if a giant hand had closed about the nape of my neck and lifted me aloft like a newborn kitten. I screamed as I shot upward, my arms and legs kicking frantically, struggling to free myself as I bobbed twenty feet in the air.
Although I was no longer being attacked by the crowd below, I was now totally exposed to the angry occupants of the balconies, who lost no time hurling the first thing they could lay their hands on in my direction.
“Nump go home!”
shrieked a Kymeran woman with fluorescent orange hair as she hurled a soft drink cup at me.
I raised my arms to shield my face as the drink hit me in the chest, exploding in a spray of crushed ice and sticky syrup. A second later a box of popcorn struck a glancing blow to my head, followed by several more beverages. I was thankful that at least Hodgson Hall’s concession stand didn’t sell drinks in bottles and cans.
Suddenly I was flying sideways through the air, the far wall of the auditorium rushing up to greet me. I screamed and put my hands over my eyes, only to be pulled back at the last possible second. I peered through my fingers and saw Esau on the stage below, moving his hands like a puppeteer controlling a marionette. As I was twirled about in midair like a child’s piñata, my shrieks of terror were drowned out by the jeers from the audience.
As I shot past the upper balcony, the laughter abruptly died away and I saw a look of surprise cross the faces of the rally-goers. My trajectory came to a sudden halt, leaving me suspended near the rafters. Peering down between my feet, I saw the crowd below part itself as a familiar figure strode down the open path to the stage. Even though I could see only the top of his head, I would have known that purple hair anywhere.
“Let the woman go, Esau!”
Hexe shouted.
“If you insist, nephew,” the necromancer replied with a sardonic laugh.
Suddenly the invisible hand holding me aloft was gone, and I plummeted like a stone dropped down a well. Halfway to the floor, I felt a second, far gentler unseen hand reach out to slow my descent. I floated over the heads of my tormentors as Hexe made a beckoning gesture with his right hand, summoning me to his side. When my feet once again made contact with the floor my legs were shaking so badly I had to throw my arms around his neck to keep from collapsing.
“I should have known leaving you at home wouldn’t keep you out of trouble,” he said wryly.
“You sin against your own people, Serenity,” Esau sneered. “Golgotham faces the greatest threat to its existence ever, and what do you do? Cozy up to the enemy!”
“Tate has as much right to be here as anyone else,” Hexe replied, triggering a barrage of hoots and jeers from Esau’s supporters. “You want to protect Golgotham—am I right? Tate calls Golgotham her home. That makes her a Golgothamite.”
“That’s impossible,” Esau replied sharply. “She’s human.”
“There is nothing in the charter our ancestor drew up that declares Golgotham a human-free zone,” Hexe countered. “Lord Beke declared it a homeland for ‘all those gifted with powers and skills beyond those of the common Man.’ That would include not only human psychics and the like, but also artists such as Tate.”
“I can’t believe we share blood!” Esau spat in disgust. “Are you so besotted with this woman, you’ve forgotten what the numps did to us?”
“No, I
haven’t
forgotten,” Hexe replied, doing his best to make himself heard over the derision of the crowd. “But I
have
forgiven. The people responsible for the Sufferance are long dead, and the humans of today are not the same as the ones back then. What good does harboring resentment and hatred over ancient injustices ever do? The centaurs trampled the humans’ crops and stole their livestock; the satyrs raped their women and plundered their vineyards; the sirens lured their ships onto the rocks; our dragons burned their villages to the ground! The humans hated and feared us because of the horrors our ancestors visited upon them, and they struck back by burning us at the stake, cutting off our fingers, and drowning us in ducking ponds. This pointless tit-for-tat—it’s like a serpent eating its tail. What can it possibly lead to, except anger and war? Is that what you truly
want
for Golgotham?”
The audience fell silent, waiting for Esau’s reply as the necromancer scowled at his nephew. But before he could answer, the doors to the auditorium flew open with a loud crash, and Paranormal Threat Unit officers came swarming in, right hands raised and ready to sling.
“PTU!”
Lieutenant Vivi shouted.
“This is a raid! Everybody keep their hands behind their back!”
Pandemonium broke out as those members of the audience with outstanding warrants—which was damn near everyone—tried to make a break for the nearest exit. Hexe and I were instantly forgotten as the crowd ran frantically about like rats hunted by a pack of terriers. I followed Hexe to a door hidden off to one side of the stage that opened onto an adjacent alley. As we stumbled out of the building, I sucked in the relatively fresh, clean air, relieved to be finally free of the rally.
We headed toward the mouth of the alley, only to halt at the sight of PTU officers indiscriminately throwing people into the phalanx of paddy wagons that filled Shoemaker Street. Not wanting to join the ranks of angry KUP supporters in the back of the wagons, we turned and headed in the opposite direction, only to have our way blocked by escapees from the raid, who were still pouring into the alley. To my dismay, Puce Mullet was among them.
“It’s her!” he exclaimed angrily, pointing at me. “The nump spy!”
Hexe motioned with his right hand, and Puce Mullet turned as silent as a statue, his mouth frozen in mid-shout. But it was too late; the others had already seen me.
Suddenly an albino centauride, her upper human body as ghostly pale as her milk white equine lower half, pushed her way through the crowd, forcing the unruly mob to retreat or risk being crushed by the ivory phaeton carriage behind her. Her snowy mane was so long it nearly touched the ground, and her eyes flashed red as rubies in the dim light of the alley. She wore a white enameled breastplate over a silver chain mail long-sleeved tunic, and carried a mace, also enameled white, in her right hand. Hexe quickly boosted me into the rear of the carriage and then jumped in after me.

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