Mind Magic (50 page)

She grinned. “I suppose so. I need to ask you some questions about TK.”

“Shoot.”

“You know that I’m a touch sensitive?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I’ve encountered magic recently which feels very similar to TK, but not identical. I’m told this magic came from someone with a Gift that allows him to use pure force—and that force can be shaped into a weapon. He can’t pick up a spoon with it, but he can batter someone or shape the force into a blade that cuts.”

“Oh, sure. I’ve run into a couple people like that. It’s still TK, but the person got only part of the skill set that usually comes with the Gift. See, all TK is force. That’s how we move objects around, by applying force to them. Most TK’ers experience our Gift kinetically, as if this force were a physical part of us that can reach out and pick things up. Like it’s a hand, usually, though I’ve met one guy who said it felt like a tentacle. Creepy, if you ask me. The people who get the half-assed version—it’s like they have an arm without a hand. They can use it to whack away, but they can’t grip things. The funny thing is that they’re a lot stronger than most TK’ers. The two I’ve met were anyway. I don’t know why that would be so, but those guys had a lot of power. Not much control, but lots of power.”

“And they could shape this force into a blade?”

“I don’t think the guys I met could, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. It probably wouldn’t be easy. That form of the Gift is hard to control. But with practice, sure, someone might learn to do that. Shoot, I could probably learn how myself, if I wanted to spend the time and effort. A hand’s a lot more useful, though.”

“That’s a big help.” Lily was jotting notes madly. “Another question. I’ve been told that a TK-Gifted has to see an object to use TK on it. Is that so?”

“Absolutely. The Gift is triggered by vision. If I close my eyes, I can’t use my Gift. Same if I’m in a really dark room. I can’t use TK on an object unless I can see it. I can’t use it at all if it’s too dark to see. Funny, isn’t it, that I experience TK kinetically, but it’s triggered visually? But that’s how it is. And it’s not just me. Every TK’er I’ve ever met is the same way.”

Lily exchanged a quick glance with Rule. “Including the ones who only got half the skill set?”

“Sure.”

Lily asked a few more questions, narrowing down how well he had to be able to see to use his Gift. Finally she thanked him for his time, disconnected, and thanked the little brownie for the use of his phone. He giggled and jumped out of her lap, phone in both hands.

She looked at Rule. “That was interesting.”

“It means we probably don’t have to worry about Smith sending Nicky against Mika at night.” But there were hours of daylight left, so that wasn’t entirely reassuring.

“Probably.” Her fingers tapped on her thigh. “I keep wondering how Nicky could have seen the homeless man clearly enough to kill him. Or the victims in Whistle, for that matter, though I don’t have much information on those murders. Maybe he stood right in front of them, but he didn’t stand in front of the first victim.”

“Was he the first?”

“Shit. I hadn’t thought of that.” She was quiet for several moments. “There’s no motive for killing the homeless guy, is there? Unless he was practice.”

“An ugly possibility, but logical. You don’t go into battle using a weapon you’ve never tested.”

“So maybe there were other victims involved in getting that weapon tested and ready. Seems like I read about a body or bodies . . . I can’t recall the details, dammit. But on the way to Whistle I read up on recent events in the area, and I know there was something about another unexplained death.”

Rule nodded, frowning. “Have you ever touched someone with two Gifts?”

“Other than Cullen, you mean?”

“Other than him, yes. I’m wondering if it’s possible Nicky has a minor secondary Gift. A farseer could peer around the corner in order to target someone with TK.”

“Danny would’ve told us.”

“Maybe she didn’t notice. We don’t know how strong her Gift is.”

“It’s hard for me to imagine missing something like that. Farseeing feels nothing like TK. I suppose, if she didn’t know how TK is supposed to feel, she might not realize she was feeling two Gifts instead of one, but . . .” She shook her head, then glanced at her watch. “It seems unlikely, but it’s nearly time for me to check in with her anyway. I’ll ask.”

Rule watched as Lily’s eyes lost focus and drifted closed. It fascinated him, this new ability of hers. And frustrated him. He had no way of sharing it with her, no way to really understand what she experienced. Did she feel that way about his ability to Change?

Dumb question. Of course she did.

She still hadn’t reached Danny. At least he didn’t think so; her lips hadn’t moved. She’d gone from needing to vocalize to needing only to physically shape the words she sent, leaving them unvoiced. He frowned. It seemed to be taking a—

Lily swayed and started to topple over.

Rule caught her. “Lily!”

Her eyes popped open. “Whoa.” She blinked several times.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Dizzy, though. Give me a minute.” She closed her eyes. After a moment her posture firmed up and her eyes opened again.

He kept his arm around her, just in case. “What happened?”

She rubbed her temple with one hand. “I learned what happens when I stretch too far.”

“Headache?”

She shook her head. “That only seems to happen with Mika. I’m tired, that’s all. Though it’s a funny kind of tired.” She frowned. “Maybe this is how it feels to be drained. Magically, I mean. Kind of like I stayed up all night writing reports.”

She wouldn’t have experienced that before, given the way her Gift operated—constantly soaking up magic without allowing her the use of it. Until now. “That seems reasonable. Your mindsense uses magic, so . . .” Rule’s voice drifted off. “I hope that’s Gandalf.”

The hoofbeats he’d heard slowed as the horse reached the trees, but the big Shire horse was still moving at an easy lope when he came into view—and what a sight that was, over a ton of horse loping up to the green with thirty pounds of brownie on his back. No tack, no saddle, but the little brownie seemed to have no trouble staying on.

The horse slowed and stopped just outside the green. Gandalf slid off, landing with her knees flexed, unfazed by dropping three times her height. Rule had known that brownies were incredible athletes. He hadn’t realized that old brownies were nearly as athletic as the gymnasts so often featured on their webcam.

“What’s all this about the webcam?” she said.

Immediately she was swarmed by the other brownies, all explaining at once. And arguing. This was why Rule hadn’t made his webcam appearance yet. Brownie governance was a slippery beast, but it was essentially a matriarchy. When it came to decisions affecting the whole community, everyone got to express an opinion. If most of them agreed, they went with that. When there was substantial disagreement, the great-mothers had the last word. The brownies had not been able to agree about putting Rule on the webcam, so they’d appealed to the great-mothers—who were all busy singing to Mika. Gandalf had agreed to come make the decision. She was the eldest, and besides, as one had explained, “She’s the bossiest anyway.”

Rule was still waiting for her to reach him so he could explain why he wanted to appear on the webcam when Gandalf waved a hand. “Enough. Bring the webcam. Let the wolf talk to the Big People. Maybe they’ll stop being stupid.”

One of the brownies was stubborn enough to say, “The government Big People will make trouble when they know he’s here.”

“The government Big People already intend to make trouble.” She stopped in front of Rule, scowling as much as she was capable of. “What is this they tell me about you wanting to bring guns into the reservation?”

That was the other thing he needed her permission for. He’d given Bert back a large chunk of the money Bert had brought him. The man was on his way back to the reservation now with three AK-47s and an Uzi. Even the mob couldn’t lay hands on more than that this fast. “The soldiers who come after Mika will have guns. We need guns to stop them. We won’t use them unless we have no choice, but—”

“No. No guns. We made an exception for Lilyu’s gun because Mika kidnapped her, gun and all, but no more guns. The youngsters would start playing the Game with them, and the next thing you know—”

“We would not let your youngsters get hold of them.”

She rolled her eyes. “Debitty, give the wolf back his phone.”

A very small brownie giggled and handed Rule the phone he didn’t know he was missing. He checked to make sure it hadn’t been turned on and put it back in his pocket.

“You see?” she said. “No guns.”

“These guns are much larger than a phone.” He indicated the size with his hands. “Your youngsters are very good at the Game, but they won’t be able to sneak AK-47s away from us.”

“Why take the chance? You won’t need them.”

“Soldiers will come, Gandalf. I know you find that hard to believe, but—”

“The government Big People can’t be that stupid! The dragons told them Mika didn’t make those fires, and dragons don’t lie, so they won’t—”

“Rule,” one of them called. “You have a phone call. It’s Hamp.”

Hamp was in charge of one of the brownie troops who were acting as scouts. “Excuse me a moment, Gandalf.” Rule crouched so the brownie with the phone could hold it up to his face. “This is Rule.” He listened to the excited voice on the other end, then said, “I think you’d better tell Gandalf, too.”

The brownie passed his phone to Gandalf. Rule stood and met Lily’s eyes. “Army troops have started arriving in Summersville.”

Summersville was less than ten miles from the reservation.

A few moments later, Rule had permission to bring in guns.

FORTY-TWO

WHEN
Ruben Brooks opened the door of his big house and saw Demi, he blinked once. “Ah. That’s what I’ve been waiting for.” He didn’t explain what he meant, just told them to come in.

As they did, Mike told him who she was. Demi started to tell him why she was there, but he wanted them to come sit down first.

Demi was very curious about Ruben Brooks. He looked about forty-five, but she wasn’t good at figuring out ages so that might be wrong. His glasses were black except for one temple, which was brown. His hair was messy and he was skinny like her. He had smart eyes, she thought as they entered the kitchen at the back of the house.

His wife was there. Mrs. Brooks was very pretty, with thick, dark hair and pale skin. She told Demi to call her Deborah, then got drinks and snacks for everyone. Then she asked if this was a private conversation.

“Yes,” Demi said, “but I don’t know if that means private from you or not.” She looked at Mike.

He thought a moment. “I think it’s okay for her to know, since Rule didn’t say otherwise. But it’s dangerous knowledge.”

Deborah looked at her husband, who looked back. Neither of them said a word, but she sat down at the breakfast nook just as if they’d discussed it and decided she should stay.

“Mr. Brooks,” Demi began, “I have a lot to tell you, but first I need to know if you’ve been relieved of duty. Lily thought maybe you hadn’t been.”

His eyebrows went up. “Lily told you that?”

She nodded. “She made me a Unit Twelve agent and sent me here.”

“I think,” he said slowly, “you had better call me Ruben.”

*   *   *

BACK
at the village green, Rule was making his webcam appearance with four of the brownies while several others were busily engaged in custom leatherwork, making harnesses for some of them to use. Brownies didn’t eat meat, but they had no problem working with the hides of dead animals. Brownie logic strikes again.

Lily had a different task.

Turned out there was one way to make sure brownies didn’t play the Game with something: make it the property of an
efondi.
Efondi
were almost always dragons, and dragons did not like it if you messed with their stuff. Brownies didn’t have much use for rules, but even the most scatterbrained brownie would not play the Game with an
efondi
’s possessions.

Lily now owned three contraband AK-47s and an extremely illegal Uzi. “Rule says you three are the least likely to shoot each other instead of the enemy,” she told the lupi in front of her. She gave them a slow and skeptical appraisal. “We’ll see. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. Let’s get acquainted. Jason, how many kills do you have?”

The man acting as Rule’s second spoke coolly. “Five.”

“Luke?”

He cleared his throat. “None. I’ve fought, but—”

“Never mind that for now. Manny?”

“Two.”

She nodded. “I’ve got two kills as well, if we just count humans. If we add in demons—”

“You’ve killed demons?” Manny exclaimed.

“In Dis, yes. I’m not sure how many of the demons I shot died, but some did. Jason, Manny—how many of your kills were with a gun?”

“Well . . . none,” Manny said.

Jason simply shook his head.

“All but one of my kills were made with a weapon.” She let that sink in. Lupi didn’t much like guns. There was a reason for that. Mostly they fought each other—in personal challenges or the type of surreptitious, undeclared war that had existed between Nokolai and Leidolf clans for so long. Guns couldn’t be used in a challenge, and using them anywhere near humans tended to draw unwanted attention. “I’m told all of you can use a rifle. Luke, here, won the clan’s sharpshooter competition.” A brand-new competition, begun by Rule three months ago. “So you know some of the basics. I’m going to teach you how to handle an AK-47 and an Uzi. Two of you will get one of the AK-47s; one will get the Uzi. Who gets what will be my decision.”