The Flux (30 page)

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no.” Imani loathed the fussy way Jimenez snapped off his denial. “Aliyah is not well. You know what today is?”

“I just came from his funeral,” she snapped. “I believe I have an idea.”

“Yes, of course.” He headbobbed a rather unconvincing apology. “But Aliyah has been
very
unstable as of late, and our grounds, you see, they don’t have proper monitoring. We don’t let patients walk outside.”

“A grievous omission, I’d think. The outdoors is critical to children’s development.”

“But these are... they’re
different
children, Ms Dawson,” he protested. “And the escape risk–”

“Is minimal, given that I run 10ks every other weekend. I think I can outpace a small girl who, for the first time since she arrived, wants to go for a walk with her
mother
.”

“Of course, of course. If you’ll hold while I get an orderly to escort you–”

“I didn’t ask for an escort.” Imani unveiled that razor-lined smile she’d perfected in boardrooms. “I want some time alone with my child.”

“But she could overreact! Violently!”

“In which case I will carry her back in a way that ensures she does not hurt herself. Or is that a problem, Mr Jimenez?”

“Of course, no, no. No. It’s not.” He seethed quietly.

Good. She liked putting a pin in this prick. Aliyah beamed at her while Jimenez went out and opened the gates for them, and Imani drank in that happy sensation of feeling like a hero to her daughter.

She took Aliyah’s hand and led her out onto the great grass lawn. The entire school was ringed by large stone walls and a southerly thatch of trees, as you’d expect at an Institute far out in the boondocks.

Aliyah’s feet crunched on dead leaves as she plodded away from the school, putting as much distance between it and her as she could. Imani trailed behind, letting Aliyah guide her.

And when Aliyah got to the far woods, she dropped to her knees and began to cry.

Oh, crap
, Imani thought shamefully.
Maybe she wasn’t prepared to go outside
. She usually didn’t countermand the people she’d hired. Why did Mr Jimenez get up her snoot so much?

But she waved off the orderlies stepping out of the Foundation doorways – then put her arms around Aliyah.

“I’m a bad person,” Aliyah whispered, with the air of a dreadful confession.

“You’re
not
, sweetie.”

“I
am
.”

Imani turned her daughter to face her. “Sweetie, you could never do anything so bad that I wouldn’t love you.”

Aliyah cried harder. Wrong thing to say, apparently. “What if I killed someone?”

Imani hesitated. “Why do you... you couldn’t–”

“I did, Mommy. I’m a
murderer
. I killed the bad ’mancer, and Daddy warned me I didn’t want to be that kind of person, and I thought I was, but I
wasn’t
…”

“Sweetie, your
Daddy
killed the ’mancer.”

“Daddy doesn’t kill anyone. I thought that was bad, but it wasn’t. I was too selfish, I didn’t appreciate Daddy, and he left…”

“He didn’t ‘leave’, sweetie. He’s…” She debated how to approach things here, decided honesty was best. “He’s dead. And
that’s not your fault
.”

“He’s not dead.”

Aliyah said it with such casual force that Imani believed her.

“And I killed Anathema.” Aliyah sobbed so hard, her words would have been incoherent to anyone else. “I’m a murderer, and a mean girl, and I am the worst thing in the world to you. You want me dead. You’ve always wanted me dead. And now I’m in a place where I’d
rather
be dead, so I’m telling you, and I wish I didn’t have to…”

“
I don’t want you dead!
” Imani’s voice sent birds scattering. “Sweetie, I don’t know why you think I want you dead. You keep saying that, but there is no force on Earth that would make me hurt you. Why do you keep saying that?”

Aliyah brought her head back in a hard sniffle, turning to face her mother. “Because I’m a ’mancer.”

Imani stopped breathing. Her arms stiffened around her daughter, her brow furrowing in confusion. She gave Aliyah a hard stare, uncertain who this thing was in her embrace.

Aliyah shivered in her mother’s arms, squeezing her eyes shut, not wanting to watch what came next.

Then Imani breathed again – a puff of surprise. A joyous grin touched her lips, as though after a long time, she was finally, utterly, in on the joke.

“Why, that explains
everything
,” she said, and when she hugged Aliyah to show her nothing had changed, Aliyah pressed her whole body into her like she had back in the old days, trusting her, that wound lanced once and for all.

“
S
o
… did you have a good conversation?” Mr Jimenez asked as Imani brought Aliyah back to the school gate. His voice was light. But as they had walked back across the green, Imani had noted every staff member lining up along the windows, watching them.

I have to leave you here
, Imani said, after Aliyah had explained everything.
Because if I try to take you away, they will kill me. The only way we can survive is to pretend nothing has changed. Do you understand?

Aliyah nodded.
But you’ll find Daddy?

I know where he is
. And Aliyah had trusted her, even though Imani was guessing where Paul had fled, and wasn’t sure this “Rainbird” character hadn’t killed him.

But she knew how corporate executives worked. If Imani grew too troublesome, they’d need Paul back to sign custody over to them. No good CEO would destroy a resource when they could leave them on hold.

Imani handed Aliyah off to an orderly. Aliyah sobbed, as Imani had instructed:
Cry like you’re terrified
, she’d said.
Mommy
will
come back for you
.

Aliyah wailed as the orderly hauled her away.

“I’m sorry to ask, Ms Dawson,” Jimenez said, creeping closer. Payne. That was
Payne
, the cheap bastard. “But it’s useful for us to know what Aliyah is talking about. If you wouldn’t mind sharing…?”

A threat, cloaked in a request. If she balked, Rainbird would burn her.

But Payne was no different than Imani’s executive clients. Every CEO thought they could read their lawyer’s emotions. And every lawyer knew if your CEO saw any hint of disgust at their money-grubbing, sociopathic behavior, you’d be out of a job.

Try my poker face
, Imani thought, giving Payne a rueful half smile.

“She’s…” Imani sighed. “She refuses to acknowledge her father is dead. I tried not to contradict her, because she got angry whenever I tried to explain how death works, but… she’s not dealing well with this, is she?”

As she turned the question back to the so-called authorities, Payne relaxed.

“She’s not,” Payne assured her. “Did she say anything else?”

“She’s developed all these crazy fantasies about murdering people. She thinks... she thinks she burns people alive. Probably leftover survivor’s guilt from the apartment fire. And...” She covered her eyes, sniffling. “Forgive me. It’s… hard to listen to her. I tried to be supportive, but…”

Payne took the bait, sliding into his caregiver mode. He put his arm around her shoulders.

“There, there, Ms Dawson. It’s always tough when a small child loses her grip on reality.”

“Of course. Maybe I shouldn’t…”

“Oh, it speaks well of you to come here, Ms Dawson. But between your ex-husband’s death and your husband’s disappearance, well… you must take care of yourself. Let the professionals take care of Aliyah. That’s what we’re paid to do.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Imani allowed, thinking,
I will take care of all of you
.

But first, I have to get Paul
.

I
mani hadn’t remembered
the exact location of the alley Paul would have retreated to. Googling old headlines made her heart race. She’d never forgotten that phone call.

Your husband, Mrs Tsabo – he tracked down the ’mancer. Alone.

Imani had felt the world slow to a halt then, an avalanche of loss threatening to bury her in grief.
Is he…

No, no, he’s alive
, the officer had told her, his voice suffused with wonder.
In critical condition, but alive. Something magical attacked him before he shot the bitch dead, but… But his ankle’s crushed. They... they can’t save his foot
.

That grief avalanche roared past, leaving Imani elated. On some level, she’d never expected Paul to survive. Once Paul dug into a case, he would not let it go – and Paul had taken out every book in the library on Titian, the illustromancer’s obsession, spreading them out upon the bedsheets so he could gaze upon the paintings for hours.

She’d never understood why this case had seized him above all others.

But Paul had taken to wandering around in his off-duty hours, squinting as he tried to see New York through the illustromancer’s eyes. And while Imani found Paul’s single-minded devotion charming – he’d outwooed her suitors in college, doggedly remaining while she’d dated enough men to realize how special Paul was – this ’mancer obsession had filled her with dread.

She’d wanted to tell him to stop, but… shutting that down would have shut down a vital part of her husband.
This would pass
, she told herself.
Once he finds her, he’ll call in SMASH
.

But of course he hadn’t.

Of course he’d tried to arrest her singlehandedly.

And for a moment, suspended in that pause between two sentences from an awkward cop, Paul had been dead. Now he was alive again, and she didn’t care about his deformity – he was still hers.

He had died, and come back.

Except Paul had never recovered. He’d withdrawn. Like Aliyah, she’d known he kept
some
secret, perhaps even from himself – but Aliyah came by her stubbornness honestly. Paul brimmed with self-hatred, so Imani tried to explain how ’mancers were walking rips in reality, shooting them was a kindness…

She’d tried so hard to pull him out of the mire of his self-loathing. Then she’d sought comfort in someone else’s arms – and in the aftermath of David, some days she wondered if she’d chosen a lover who was Paul’s polar opposite in an attempt to goad Paul back into caring about
something
.

Now, as she walked into the alleyway where the illustromancer had set up shop – she’d seen the pictures where that poor deranged woman had plastered the walls with Titian posters, in the back alley of what once had been a frame shop – she knew why Paul pursued the magic, and realized how toxic her ’mancer-hating statements had been.

“Paul.”

She spoke confidently, feeling she could will Paul into being here.

No answer. The alley was dark. The Italian restaurant flanking this alley had closed for the night, though the diner next door was still open.

Something skittered over the garbage bags in the dumpster.

“Paul,” she said: louder, angrier. The man had cost her a good marriage with his damn closed-mouthedness. He
owed
her a discussion.

Still no answer.

“
Paul!
” she yelled. She leapt into the dumpster, not caring about her $500 Donna Karan scarf….

…and there he was. He stared up with unseeing eyes, pale. She couldn’t recall seeing Paul with so much as a five o’clock shadow – but a ragged beard had grown on him, like lichen.

She was so grateful she wanted to punch him.

He blinked, as if fearing her an illusion. “…Imani?”

“Paul.”

“…no. I’m… not him. I pulled myself down from the stars. I’m…” He closed his eyes, sank back down into the dumpster. “I’m nobody.”

“Are you the man who married me? Are you the father of Aliyah Tsabo-Dawson, our child?”

He looked stunned. “Yes.”

“Then you’re somebody.” She reached down for him. “Come back.”

I
mani went
next door to fetch Paul a meal from the diner, which got some looks – her fine Zac Posen suit was smeared with dumpster gravy – but she returned as soon as possible.

“Here,” she said. “Coffee is love.”

Paul cupped his diner coffee as though he was huddled over a campfire. Imani found the gesture endearing – so endearing she reached over and took his hands.

“So… you know?” he asked, blinking owlishly.

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Aliyah told me.”

He squinted. “And you’re… OK with this?”

She whistled, low and long.

“I don’t know if ‘OK’ is the right word, Paul. It… makes
sense
. I’ll figure out how OK I am with it later, but right now I feel relieved. I can start fixing things.”

He grimaced. “I... thought you’d turn us in.”

“I would have.”

Paul gave her a weary grin. “I always loved the way you never bullshit me.”

“When this whole thing started, I would have thought, ‘Well, we need professionals to handle this,’ and called in SMASH, and been surprised as all hell when I never saw my daughter again. But I’ve seen how hard you tried to keep it from me. I saw how suppressing who you are ate you both up. And – well, watching David work, I don’t think all that much of the professionals these days, either.”

“David’s no professional.” Paul sipped his coffee and made a bitter face. “He’s a politician.”

“At least he’s alive.”

Paul cocked his head. “What?”

“Aliyah,” Imani explained. “She didn’t kill him.”

Paul’s glare was a look of such cold fury that she repressed an animal instinct to run from that uncompromising gaze.

“
What did they do to Aliyah
?” Paul’s eyes refocused on a distant spot beyond her.

No; his eyes
glowed
.

Like most people, Imani had never witnessed ’mancy. Paul’s eyes had gone the glossy black of a CRT screen. Tiny green letters scrolled up from underneath his eyelids, in thick block fonts.

Paul’s eyes were windows to all the information in the world. Imani shrank back; her husband’s gaze was bottomless, merciless. Paul was a channel to petabytes of information, scouring Payne’s records, and she could drown in that data.

And yet… there was something beautiful about that power. For the first time, she understood why Paul had tracked down that illustromancer, had wanted to warm his hands by her magic’s bright fire…

“They... they tried to make Aliyah kill David,” Imani volunteered. “But she didn’t. She just–”

Imani laughed. His magic was glorious. Now she understood why he’d locked Aliyah away – this ’mancy was too noisy, the SMASH teams would see them, they’d haul them to the Refactor…

“She locked David in a Pokeball, Paul!” Imani spoke quickly, trying to gain his attention. “Think of how clever our daughter is, Paul. They thought they could make her murder, but instead she balled David up and he... he rolled underneath her bed…”

“
Payne
,” Paul whispered.

Wet papers pulled themselves off the alleyway’s muck, lurching broken-backed towards Paul – old meal checks, delivery receipts, shredded credit card receipts knotting back together in attempts to please their master. Old tax forms dove out of the dumpster.

The forms loved Paul so much they came to life and genuflected before him.
This is what he saw when he saw the illustromancer
, she thought.
Something both beautiful and terrible
.

Paul knotted his hands into fists.

Hairs stiffened on Imani’s neck. Force waves emanated out from Paul, and she realized how much Paul had been holding back all along – not just his ’mancy, but a righteous anger he had pent up for far too long.

Imani felt Paul reaching out to computers across the globe, accessing forms, shoving the information through levels of bureaucracy. Bits flipped in computerized records; forms spontaneously shredded themselves, leaving layers of confetti.

Paul had been dead, now he was alive. Any good bureaucracy had forms to reverse clerical errors – and when they didn’t, Paul spun the paperwork himself, creating new procedures. And while it would have normally taken weeks for the changes to seep back through the records, Paul rammed through the changes instantly, reverting tax records, insurance forms, the files in SMASH.

Undoing all his mistakes.

When he was done, the papers at his feet applauded in dry crumpling noises.

Paul lifted his head to the sky.

“Payne!” he cried.

And the forms around him disintegrated. For miles around, the ink on every credit card signature unlooped, forming the same word – PAYNE – before disintegrating into tangled coils.

Every dot matrix printer in New York City clacked to life, hammering on the paper furiously until the page was battered solid black.

“
Payne
!” Paul bellowed, and the files in every filing cabinet in New York thrashed like wild animals, battering at their steel cages, maddened by some unknowable force.

Paul’s fury was like a storm sweeping down on the men who had enslaved their daughter. Imani took his hand, feeling his ’mancy flow through her – surfing Paul’s devotion to Aliyah, Paul’s rage, Paul’s commitment, his beliefs so strong the universe itself stepped aside rather than face this glorious madman down.

She flung her arms out and howled mad laughter, realizing the man she had loved had returned to her at last.