The Collected Christopher Connery (20 page)

When her door was finally closed behind her, she let out
the angry breath she had been holding and threw her handbag down on the floor.
Feeling a little better, she picked it up and set it on a chair. Then she stood
in the middle of the room for a moment, chewing over her options. If she
wished, she could request to speak to the Directors right then. She doubted
they would turn her away; her case was important enough.

But if Nia were honest with herself, she didn’t truly
want to speak to them face to face. It always gave her hot and cold chills to
stand in front of them and had ever since that first time when they had called
her before them to ask if she, at barely six, had any knowledge of her mother’s
experiments, any inkling of what had gone wrong.

Though she knew they had no choice but to investigate all
possible leads, the memory had left an ugly scar. There were still nights she
woke with a start, her skin crawling with the memory of all those eyes on her.

You’re being foolish,
she told herself.
You’re
not a little child anymore. You’re an Illuminator and one of the strongest
magicians in the Academy. You may very well be a Director yourself one day, in
which case you had better get used to speaking with them.
But even as she
scolded herself, her hands were already digging into her handbag for her
notepad and a pen.

It would be easier to make her request in writing anyway.
There would be no chance for confusion if everything was carefully put down in
ink. She quickly detailed her progress thus far, being sure to make Connery’s
traps sound sufficiently challenging, so they would understand the need for
support, but also leaving out anything that would suggest she hadn’t been up to
the task.

I’m sure I could find even this piece of Connery by
myself if I had to, but there’s no reason to take unnecessary risks. They will
appreciate that. They will be happy to see that I’m being prudent and not –

And not like mother.

Scowling, Nia continued to write. When she had made her
request as clear as possible, she folded the paper in half and carefully drew a
circle on the front in light pencil. When that was done she blew lightly on the
note and with a soft sighing sound, it burst into flame, a very particular kind
of flame that only tickled Nia’s hands as the paper crumbled to ashes. When
those ashes were all that remained she washed her hands in the bathroom and
then returned to the dining room to eat and wait for a reply.

It came sooner than she had expected. She was buttering a
slice of toast while she waited for her coffee to cool – “How can you drink all
that without your heart exploding?” Gail had asked her. “Practice,” she had
replied, which had made the detective laugh – when she heard something
fluttering just on the edge of hearing, like someone rustling a piece of cloth
beside her ear. Arthur, who had been eating eggs at the time, suddenly pulled
his fork out of his mouth and blinked at it.

“Don’t worry, Arthur, it’s not the eggs.” She opened her
handbag and felt for the piece of paper she knew would be there. “It’s – aha,
here we are!” Her fingers closed on the thick paper the Directors used when
they wanted to appear as impressive as possible. As she pulled it out of her
bag, the Academy seal caught the light and flashed like a small flame.

“Wow, that was quick,” said Gail. “Where did it – you
know what, don’t tell me, I probably wouldn’t understand it.”

“Oh, I could explain sometime, if you liked!” Nia said
brightly. She felt better now that the Academy’s answer was in her hand. It was
the asking that was the most difficult part. “The theory is actually quite easy
to comprehend once you understand a few basic magical rules.”

Gail gave her a tolerant smile but shook her head. “I’m
still sometimes kept up nights wondering what the hell a pocket dimension is,
so I think you’d better not.”

“Well, that’s even –”

“What does the message say, Ni?” said Arthur.

“Oh. I’d almost forgotten.” She turned the folded paper
over and broke the seal with a fingernail. She braced herself for some sort of
difficulty. Nothing was ever completely simple with the Academy, not with its
many layers of bureaucracy, as complex and teeming with life as layers of soil.
Perhaps they would only be able to send her twelve magicians instead of
fourteen; then she would have to decide which entrance to leave unguarded. More
likely they would tell her that she could have her back-up in a week’s time,
which would mean more loitering about unproductively, though maybe they could
go to another picture show and this time Gail could –

“What is it?” Arthur asked. “What did they say? Are they
going to send help?”

Nia’s throat felt paralyzed, but after a few choking
moments she managed to swallow. She folded the paper again, creasing it hard
between her hands. “Yes, of course, they are. They’re even sending the whole
fourteen, which is a surprise.”

“Me too,” said Gail, watching Nia curiously over her bowl
of cereal.

“Unfortunately,” she continued brightly, “they won’t be
able to have them ready until tomorrow, so we’ve got another boring day ahead
of us.”

“Tomorrow? That’s quicker than I would have thought,”
said Arthur.

“Yes, well, this is a rather important case, you
remember. They’re very eager to have it resolved and they’re – they’re quite
pleased with our progress thus far.” Nia folded the paper, pressing the stiff
paper down until it would have taken concentrated effort to peel it open again.
“However, they did request that I return briefly to the Academy to select the
magicians who will be joining us.”

Gail was nodding. “That makes sense, you know the case
better than anyone.”

Yes,
Nia thought near-hysterically,
better than
anyone.
“I’ll likely be gone for most of the day, but we’ll start bright
and early tomorrow!” Did her voice tremble a little just then? No, she didn’t
think so.

“All right,” said Arthur. “Let me just go get my hat and
we’ll go.”

Nia stared at him. “Go?”

Arthur blinked at her. “I assume I’m driving you back,
right?”

“Oh!”
How did you not consider that, you idiot?
“Actually,
they said they were going to send a car for me. How silly. They must have
forgotten you were here.” Nia stood and somehow, somehow managed to keep her
legs from trembling. “Goodness, if they sent the car out right away, they may
be nearly here. I should go get my things. There’s no time to waste.”
No, no
time at all.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Arthur
said uncertainly.

“No, you should stay here and keep poor Gail company.”
Knowing she had no choice now, Nia looked at Gail, being careful to smile. “I
would invite you along, detective, but the selection process itself would
likely be confidential and –”

“It’s my case too, remember. The Academy hired me.”

“I – yes, of course, but… It’s only…” Nia felt pinned
under those sharp dark eyes, all her words withering on her tongue. “It’s only
that…”

It might have all ended there if Gail hadn’t suddenly
given her a rueful smile and said, “Don’t worry, I get it. The Academy said,
‘Whatever you do, don’t bring the layman. You can brief her later.’”

As terrible as the lie was, Nia clung to it like a
rotting piece of driftwood in a roaring river. “I – I didn’t want to offend
you. I understand how invaluable you are to this assignment and so do the
Directors, but they can be terribly old-fashioned, especially where security is
concerned. I hope you understand. I promise I will tell you everything as soon
as I get back.”

A wry smile tilted Gail’s mouth. “Everything? Even the
things they tell you not to?”

“As head magician on this case, it falls to me to
determine what information you require and I have found you work best when
fully informed. I proved that last night, didn’t I?” Not only was it a
manipulative strike, but it led to Arthur looking between her and Gail
inquiringly. She knew she would have to explain – but later, later.

Then Gail shrugged and looked away. “Well, doc, what
should we do with our newfound free-time?”

“I – I don’t know.” Arthur was still watching Nia
uncertainly. “I guess we could –”

Unable to bear standing there any longer, Nia made a show
of checking her watch. “I had better hurry. They’re probably already waiting
for me. I’ll be back sometime tonight. Enjoy yourselves today!” With that she
turned and, after a moment of freezing indecision, walked toward the stairs.
She feared she might take the steps too quickly and stumble, but the thought of
being shut in the elevator with the well-meaningly chatty operator was simply
too much to bear.

When she was finally –
finally –
back in her room,
she sank down against the door, hands shaking as she reopened the message from
the Academy, not caring when the corners tore. She read the message again,
half-hoping it had changed during her escape from the dining room. It hadn’t.

Illuminator Graves, we have received your
correspondence. At the moment, we are unable to grant your request for
assistance. However, if you still find yourself in difficulty tomorrow, inform
us and we will be happy to send Illuminator Dani to relieve you. Please keep us
informed.

There was no signature, but Nia recognized the precise
handwriting of Head Illuminator Fabian. She also recognized the threat.
If
you haven’t made progress by tomorrow, we will find someone who will.
Nia
clenched the paper in her fists, hardly noticing when the stiff edges cut into
her skin. It wasn’t fair. Hadn’t she done everything they asked? Always? And
yet, they allowed her no margin for error, no space for weakness. Another
Illuminator would have been given more time, more support, but Nia was held to
higher standards and it was all –

It was all her mother’s fault. She hated herself for
thinking it, but it was true, wasn’t it? Every day of her life, she had to
prove she wasn’t her mother, that she could control herself, that she could do
what needed to be done. And if she couldn’t… Well, it wouldn’t be a surprise,
would it? After all, Arthur had gone wrong and he had only been a visitor in
her mother’s womb. She supposed they all thought it was only a matter of time
before she did something terrible or – or –

Or simply gave up.

She looked at the message again. She had proven their
fears unfounded a hundred – no, a thousand times. She proved them wrong with
every day she remained Illuminator Graves. In a very real way, she was still on
her knees, scrubbing that bloody floor, cleaning away the mess her mother had
made. But she was
not
her mother.

And she would prove it again. She would prove it until
they believed her.

Shoving herself away from the door, she hurriedly changed
into flat shoes that would stand up to long walking. She exchanged her silk
dress for a heavy wool one and tucked a pair of leather gloves to her handbag,
nestling them down beside her work case.

It would be cold underground.

Gail didn’t see Nia leave. Arthur said she had stopped by
the table on the way out, but Gail had been getting a newspaper at the time.

“She borrowed your map,” he said, gesturing to where the
subway map had been, “so she could better explain the situation to the
Directors.”

Gail frowned. This smelled off. Nia had been jumpier than
a cornered rat ever since getting that message. Sure, she was always a bit…
high-strung, but this had felt different, like she was a glass left on the edge
of a table, ready to go crashing down if someone so much breathed on her wrong.

“Are you going to read the whole paper?” Arthur asked her
and she absently passed him half.

For a little while they sat in silence. Gail half-read
some article about the threat of inflation and mulled over some questions that
had taken root in her mind during the past week and which were finally starting
to put out leaves. “I’ve been wondering something.”

Arthur looked up from the sports section – though there
wasn’t all that much in it, seeing as the stadium had sprung a leak and the
mayor was still scrambling for the money to fix it. “What?”

“I was just thinking, why didn’t they send more magicians
in the first
place?”          

Arthur stopped fretfully drumming his fingers on the
corner of the paper. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s great they’re going to give us help now and
all.” She managed to keep most of the sarcasm out of her voice. “But if they
wanted Connery so bad, why did they just send Nia and you? Why not just have
lots of magicians combing the city? It might have sped things up a little.”

“Sometimes smaller groups are more effective.” Arthur
shrugged. “You work alone, right?”

“Yeah, sure, but the kind of work I do involves keeping a
low profile, so you don’t spook the people you’re investigating. Connery’s
dead. He’s not going to care what sort of profile we keep.”

“His associates might, though. If they find out we’re
looking for him, they might move him somewhere else.”

“Hm.” That wasn’t a bad point, but something still didn’t
fit. Of course, as long as she couldn’t figure out
what
was bothering
her, all she was doing was thinking herself into knots. “But now they’re
sending us help?”

Arthur was studying her, obviously perplexed. “Well,
yeah, because Nia asked for it. The Academy can be stingy with their resources.
They want Connery, but they want to get him for as little cost as possible.” He
smiled a bit sardonically. “They were probably hoping Nia wouldn’t ask for more
magicians, but once she did, they couldn’t exactly say no.”

Gail found herself remembering what Nia had told her
about Arthur the night before. She guessed the very existence of bound wards
proved the truth of Arthur’s analysis. They neutralized the bound wards by
strapping down there magic, but kept them around to be useful in other ways.
That way, nothing was wasted. It made sense – in a coldhearted bureaucratic
kind of way – but Gail guessed the Academy had a city to run.

Pushing herself away from the table, Gail stood. “I guess
we’ve got some time to kill then. I’m going to go work on my reports for a bit.
Want to meet for lunch around one o’clock?”

“Sure.” Arthur lifted his half of the paper. “Do you want
this back?”

“Nah, keep it. We can trade again at lunch.” She looked
up and smiled when she caught sight of a familiar face coming down the stairs.
“Hey, Xavier! I’ve got some work to do, but you can come keep Arthur company
while I’m gone.”

Xavier, who had a small suitcase in one hand, and Arthur
exchanged startled looks, but then Xavier smiled.

“I’m heading back to Gracetown today, but I’ve got a
little time, if Mr. Graves doesn’t mind, of course.”

“I don’t mind.” Arthur closed the paper to make room for
Xavier beside him. “I did ask you to call me Arthur, though.”

“Right. Sorry, Arthur. I guess I didn’t recognize you
without that hat of yours.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed, mouth opening to ask, “What –”
then he stopped, a sly grin spreading across his face. “That was a low blow.”

Xavier grinned back. “I know.”

Gail patted Xavier’s shoulder as she passed him on her
way to the stairs. “You kids have fun. I’ll see you around one.” She felt bad
just abandoning them like that, but her head was beginning to hurt again, a low
persistent ache just behind her eyes and she knew all the clanging and scraping
in the dining room would only make it worse. They’d probably have more fun
without her anyway.

As she climbed the stairs, the pain in her head
intensified and she gripped the bannister hard to keep from stumbling.

“Damn,” she muttered. “I hardly drank anything last night.”
By rights, it should be Nia and Arthur with sore heads and crawling stomachs.
Without thinking, she wiped the back of her hand across her cheek, but of
course it came away bloodless. What the hell had she expected?

When she got back to her room, she tossed her half of the
newspaper on to the bed and went to get her papers from the safe. It took her
three tries to get the damn thing open because her fingers kept trembling on
the dial. By the time the door finally popped ajar, she was so frustrated by
the whole business that she sent papers flying across the room by yanking out
the folder too roughly. Worse, when she bent to the collect them, the room
blurred into a dizzy mess of color.

She stayed perfectly still for several seconds, breathing
deeply, until the room stopped swimming. What the hell was the matter with her?
She had actually slept better last night than she had for the rest of the week
combined, so why the hell did she feel like she was running on empty?

Gritting her teeth against the dizziness that accompanied
each step, she walked to the bed and dumped her notes down beside the
newspaper. This was a shit time for a cold or a flu or whatever the hell this
was.

Not that there was ever really a good time for any of
those things. Goddamn, she hated being sick.

Dad been sick at the end. The kind of sick that only got
worse, the kind of sick that made a man forget that the water leaking through
the roof would only make him worse. Or at least made him not care.

Gail grabbed her braided hair with one hand, twisting it
until the pain grounded her firmly in the present. One, she hadn’t drunk any
bad water, so even thinking about it was pointless and two, she had a whole
shit load of work to do, so whatever was wrong with her, hangover or cold or just
plain old tiredness, would just have to fuck off.

Sitting down on the bed, she flipped open the tattered
folder, scanning the notes she had made over the last week. They consisted
mostly of sentence fragments, often punctuated with multiple question marks,
which seemed to be capture the nature of the case pretty well.

Died on purpose?? Got people looking for him? Who?
Have to find him first.
Then from the night before:
Subway tunnels??
Moving somehow?

Then she turned to the copy of the subway map she had
made the night before, figuring – correctly as it turned out – that they would
need more than one. It wasn’t a perfect copy; she’d sketched it while already
half asleep, but at least she could use it to see if there was any pattern to
the places Connery had been passing through.

After ten minutes, she had to admit that the answer was a
big fat “nope.” Scowling, she was about to slam the map back into the folder
when she had another idea. She dug through her papers, clenching her jaw
against the pain caused by that little rustling sound, until she found what she
wanted: the prospective subway schematic. She remembered picking it up back
when there had been a brief revival of the subway dream – before people
actually went down and saw the extent of the water damage. Some instinct had
caused her to toss it into her stack of references and she was glad for it now.

The scale wasn’t quite right; the schematic was designed
more for color and style than technical accuracy, but after a while – longer
than it should have taken, but her head was still foggy – she gave a soft
hmph
of triumph.

There was a pattern after all. Connery’s stops weren’t
random. They corresponded to stations, some nearly complete and some hardly
begun but all named. In fact, if she didn’t miss her guess, he was likely
following the C-Line. It was hard to be sure with only four points of
reference, considering how often the lines overlapped, but Gail was sure she
was right.

Well, that was something to tell Nia when she got back.
She looked over at the clock. It was just a little past ten. Part of her wanted
to go back to the dining room to drink coffee with Arthur and Xavier. A bigger
part of her just wanted to curl up on top of the comforter and sleep til lunch.
Unfortunately, what she really had to do was get reports done for other
clients. They’d be wanting them soon.

There was a pen on the bedside table, but when she picked
it up and began to write, her usually steady hands betrayed her again. The
words tilted and twisted madly across the page, unreadable even to herself.
Snarling in frustration, she rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes. She
supposed she would have to move to the desk. Maybe with the paper pinned down
on a hard surface, she would be able to – she pulled the pen away from the
paper.

For a several seconds, her mind went blank. What she was
seeing made so little sense that her brain simply threw it away.

She had stopped writing. She had. She had stopped writing
and had started thinking about moving to the desk, but apparently her hand
hadn’t gotten the memo. It had continued scrawling words across the page in
large, uneven letters.

IT’S DARK, BUT THE EYELESS BULL ISN’T BLIND. I SHOULD
HAVE WORN THICKER STOCKINGS. THE STONE IS COLD. THERE WASN’T MUCH BLOOD. UNTIL
THEY STARTED TO PULL ITS SKIN OFF.

She threw the entire folder away from her. It hit the
opposite wall, papers exploding up and fluttering down like dying birds. She
stared after it, breathing hard, fearing it might start crawling across the
floor toward her.

The pen lay where she had dropped it by the bed. Gail
forced herself to stoop and pick it up. Maybe it was the pen. Maybe it had been
affected by whatever Connery had done to the hotel. Gail closed her eyes,
letting the darkness soften the hateful pounding in her temples. The pen had
done the writing, not her. That –

A light tickle on the back of her hand.

A fly. It’s just a fly.
Gail opened her eyes.

It wasn’t a fly.

THE EYELESS BULL SEES HER
was scrawled across the
back of her hand. The words didn’t make any sense. She had never heard them
before, never read them, never
thought
them, but they were there.
Written in what was unmistakably her own hand.

The world spun. She knew she was actually sitting
absolutely still on the bed, but that knowledge only made it worse. Her head
seemed to swell with every beat of her heart. Any moment, her skull would crack
open like an egg. Perhaps more mad words would come buzzing out of her exposed
brain like flies from a corpse. She clutched her head with both hands, only half
aware that the stifled voice whispering, “No, no, no, no,” was hers.

She staggered to her feet, arms lashing out to push back
the walls she knew weren’t actually curving down around her. She had to get
out. Something was wrong. She didn’t know if it was something wrong with her or
the hotel, but she had to get out. She had to tell Arthur then he could get to
Nia. And Nia could –

The floor pitched underneath her, or maybe she tripped.
It didn’t matter, it knocked her down either way. She tried to catch herself,
but her hands slipped out from beneath her. She lay with her cheek pressed to
the carpet. There were black explosions in her head now, blurring her vision.
She tried to hold on to consciousness, but it hurt too much.

The last thing she saw were the words scrawled on to the
back of her hand.

THE EYELESS BULL SEES HER.