The Collected Christopher Connery (10 page)

Traveling through illusions was always a strange
experience. It had been part of Nia’s training naturally, but one never
entirely grew used to the feeling of moving downward while knowing with
absolute certainty that one was actually traveling straight ahead or the
disjointed timeless feeling of a journey that should have taken thirty seconds
taking what felt close to an hour.

But illusions are labyrinths that intersect with reality
at specific points, and Nia would travel as far as she had to in order to find
the point she needed.

Gail stayed silent as they walked, glancing warily into
the darkness behind them every now and again as though she could hear something
following.

Nia hoped the spell keeping Gail’s mind free of illusions
would hold. Laymen’s minds interacted with illusions in complex ways. Sometimes
they failed to take hold at all and other times, they would completely
overwhelm the layman’s mind, leaving them with permanent mental scars. It
varied from layman to layman and illusion to illusion. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Gail replied, voice remarkably steady. She
increased her pace a little and was walking beside Nia when the stairs finally
came to an end and widened into another dark hallway. The fear in her face had
been replaced with comically mild curiosity.

“I have to hand it to Connery,” she said. “He’s a whiz
with lighting. He should go into making movies.”

Nia laughed.

Finally, after what felt like a thousand more twists and
turns, they found the doorway to the dining room. It seemed to hover alone in
the darkness, but when Nia stepped through it, everything snapped back to
normal. It was still dark, of course, and eerily silent, but the world seemed
to have more or less settled back into the picture that Nia remembered from the
last time she had been in this room.

Of course, this aura of truth might only serve to make
the illusions more compelling. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down.
“Arthur?”

“Hey, Mr. Graves!” Gail added. “Are you here?”

The only answer was a glass shattering on the other side
of the room.

“Over there.” As they both raced in the direction Gail
indicated, Nia hoped desperately that she had made it in time, that Arthur
hadn’t –

She rounded the table just in time to see Arthur about to
stab a shard of broken glass into his throat.

Moving with incredible quickness, Gail caught his hand
and twisted it back, holding on grimly as he struggled.

“Arthur!” Nia got to her knees in front of him and
grasped his shoulders. “Arthur, what are you doing?”

He twisted his face away from her as he fought to break
away from Gail. Thankfully, the detective was strong and one deft twist of
Arthur’s wrist froze him in place, chest heaving with shallow panicked breaths.

“Arthur, calm down, please,” Nia tried to keep her voice
level, though it frightened her to see him so out of control. She only
remembered seeing him this distressed once before, years and years ago. She
hadn’t been able to look at him then, it had been so awful. “Arthur, it’s all
right, whatever you’re seeing it’s not real.”

Arthur’s head swayed slowly back and forth. He still
wouldn’t raise his eyes from the carpet. “I don’t – I don’t see anything, I –
god, Nia, I can taste – the blood, Nia, all of them. I…”

Gail looked at Nia, her face full of questions, but Nia
had to focus on Arthur. “Whatever you think, it’s not real. This is an
illusion, Arthur. It’s another of Connery’s traps. Do you understand me?”

“But it did happen, Nia, you know it did…”

Of course that’s what the spell would grasp on to. They
always pulled from the subject’s most traumatic memories, the memories that
would leave them at their weakest. And Nia knew perfectly well what Arthur’s
worst memory was. “Arthur…”

“You know what they’ll do to me, Nia. I’m sorry, I wanted
to be there, I did. I didn’t mean –”

“Do you want me to let him go?”

Nia had almost forgotten about Gail. “Yes, please.”

Gail released Arthur’s arm, and he sagged forward, barely
catching himself on his elbows. Gail stepped back and began pacing in a slow circle
around the table, monitoring the perimeter like a sentry.

She’s pretending not to listen,
Nia realized and
was grateful. Pulling out Gail’s pen, she took Arthur’s free hand in hers and
began drawing a circle on the skin.

“What are you doing?” he asked in a weak tearful voice as
she allowed the spell to follow the lines of his palm.

“Helping you remember.” When the spell was done, she
guided Arthur’s hand over his mouth. Pressing her own hand on top of his, she
activated the spell.

Arthur drew back, coughing and sputtering. “What – what
the hell was
that?”
he managed to choke out after a few seconds.

“A warding spell to keep Connery’s magic out.” Nia felt
herself smiling a little. “You won’t be tasting anything but that for a few
hours at least.”

“But what the hell
is
it?”

“Aniseed.”

“Oh, great, thanks.” Arthur ran his hand hard across his
mouth then looked up sharply. “What happened?”

“Another part of Connery is hidden here in the hotel.
This time there are illusion spells protecting it. Oh, by the way, do you have
his head?”

Arthur stared at her. “Why would I have his head?”

Nia frowned. “I’m pretty sure you took it. Are you sure
you don’t remember?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I think I would remember if I had
Connery’s head.”

“Hm.” That was unfortunate. Hopefully Arthur hadn’t
forgotten it anywhere conspicuous or there might be quite the uproar in the
hotel when the illusion broke. She turned and called, “Detective, you don’t see
Connery’s head, do you?”

“Afraid not,” Gail replied. “I found these, though.” She
popped up on the other side of the table, holding a fistful of chalk, pens, and
pencils.

“What the –”

“You must have brought them with you when you left the
room,” said Nia as she took the drawing implements from Gail. The head could
wait, but at least now she was armed. “Do you remember leaving?”

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t remember anything after
getting up this morning and getting dressed.” He rubbed his chin. “I think I
was going to shave, but then –” He raked his hand back through his hair. “But
how – how did he know about…?”

“He didn’t. Connery only created the setting. The magic
is designed to cause those affected to project their own – well, that’s just
how the magic works. Didn’t you –” Then Nia remembered. Of course Arthur didn’t
know how illusions worked. That topic wasn’t covered until their third tier of
education, which didn’t start until at least age thirteen. Arthur had been
bound at nine. Realizing that he was waiting for her to finish. “Are you all
right now? Are you seeing or – perceiving – anything out of the ordinary?”

Arthur shook his head. “No, I don’t think I ever
saw
anything,
but I honestly can’t remember. I was thinking about shaving and then I was here
and tasting...” He shuddered and fell silent for a moment. When he spoke again,
he seemed to have regained his composure. “I panicked. I think I was trying to
get back to you, but I got turned around in the darkness. I guess I forgot
where I was. When I was.”

Nia nodded slowly.

Looking down, Arthur nudged the long shard of glass he
had dropped with the edge of his shoe. “Was I holding that? I’m lucky I didn’t
cut myself.” His head snapped back up. “I didn’t try to hurt you, did I?”

There was a lump in Nia’s throat, but she managed to keep
her voice level when she said, “No, Arthur, you didn’t, but are you sure you
didn’t hurt yourself?”

Arthur held up his unblemished palm. “Not a scratch.”

That wouldn’t be true if it had taken us even a moment
longer to get to you,
but Nia didn’t let those thoughts escape her lips.
Arthur was confused and frightened enough already.

“Though I
am
apparently going to be tasting
nothing but aniseed for the rest of my life.”

Nia smiled. “A few hours sounds more likely to me. Now, we
have to find Connery. His location will mark the center of the spell and from
there, unraveling it will be simple.”

“All right.” Arthur climbed stiffly to his feet then
winced and rubbed his tailbone. “Damn, how long was I sitting here?”

“Probably about as long as I was walking down the
stairs,” said Gail. Then she looked at Nia. “So what’s the plan?”

Before Nia could answer, the kitchen door began to shake
violently on its hinges like someone was slamming against from the other side.
Gail clapped a hand to her head, cursing viciously. Nia opened her mouth to ask
if she was all right, but then the kitchen door exploded and Nia was thrown
into the air, only stopping when she slammed head first into one of the heavy
tables.

All told, this day was proving to be even shittier than
the last one. Not only was her head suddenly pounding like her brain was a baby
bird trying to peck through her skull, but she had just seen Illuminator
Graves, their one hope of getting out of this mess, fly across the room like a
ragdoll. She dove after her, but was slowed down by her throbbing head and the
fact that the dining room had transformed into a miniature hell on earth.

At least it’s not water,
she thought dazedly as
she dodged the shimmering red and orange flames. Sweat stuck her shirt to her
back and the smoke made her eyes sting, but the rising heat actually helped
clear her mind, allowing her to focus on what was important.

All of them had been knocked across the room, putting
some distance between them and the fire, but that gap was closing fast. Arthur
got up on his own, no worse for wear, but Nia wasn’t moving. Unfortunately,
with the fire raging toward them, there was no time for a gentle rescue.
Wrapping her arms around Nia, Gail yanked Nia to her feet. Nia whimpered in
protest and Gail let out a long breath. She was alive at least.  

Pulling Nia’s arm around her neck, Gail dragged her
toward the labyrinth. She didn’t relish returning to that twisted non-place,
but it was better than being burned alive.

“Mr. Graves!” she shouted over her shoulder. “This way!”

“I’m coming! Just –” Another explosion from the kitchen
sent Arthur stumbling and cursing after her. Slowing down just long enough to
grab Arthur’s arm, Gail shoved him into the maze then stepped into the cool
darkness herself.

What had formerly been a collection of twisting hallways
was now a single steep descending staircase and Gail had to sit down hard to
keep from falling head over ass down it. Ahead of her, she heard Arthur gasp
and catch himself on the wall.

Slowly, so as not to jar Nia’s no doubt sore head, Gail
looked back over her shoulder. Only darkness. She wondered what would happen if
she tried to walk out again. Would she be back in the burning dining room or
somewhere else entirely? Thankfully, she was good at keeping a stranglehold on
the sort of suicidal curiosity and faced forward again.   

“Damn,” Arthur breathed, sitting down heavily a step
below them. “Was that real? Could that have hurt us?”

“I think it
did
hurt us, one of us at least.”
Holding the Nia tight around the waist, Gail tried to squint through the dark
to see how bad a knock she had taken.

“No but also yes,” Nia offered belatedly in a hazy voice.
“I mean, no, it wasn’t real in the most easily understood sense of the word,
but yes, it could have hurt us.”

“It did hurt you.” Gail tried to move some of Nia’s hair
out of the way.

Nia shook her head, but the wince that followed spoiled
her denial. “I’m quite – I will be fine. The kitchen isn’t on fire in our
reality – the
real
reality – but the barriers between that reality and
Connery’s illusion are stronger than you might think.” Her voice was a little
slurred, like she’d had too much to drink.

Arthur cursed. “I was hoping it was just like a dream. We
could just pinch ourselves and wake up.”

“No, it’s not like a dream. Our bodies are here and we’re
as much observed by the outside world as anything else in the illusion, that
is, not at all or not nearly at all – wait, that’s not quite what I meant.”

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of Gail’s mouth.
“How hard did you hit your head, princess?”

“No, no,
listen.”
Nia tried to bat Gail’s hands
away, but kept missing. “There
are
illusions that only affect the
subjects’ minds, but this isn’t one of them. This – once you’re in an illusion
like this, you become part of it. They’re like – think of them as tiny
self-contained universes.”

Gail tried to imagine it and failed. “How is that
possible?”

“Well, the theory involves alternate realities and
pockets of – ow!”

“There it is.” Gail gently prodded the sore spot on Nia’s
head, feeling her fingers come away sticky with blood. “You should patch
yourself up before we get moving again.”

“It’s nothing. The point I was trying to make was that
while a great deal of research has been put into illusion magic, the results
are always painfully philosophical. It’s interesting, of course, but hardly
helpful to anyone wanting a practical understanding of the magic. Though I
suppose it would be difficult to discuss alternate universes and pocket
realities without becoming a trifle philosophical...”

“You can tell me all about it later, but now, you better
fix your head. You’re wandering.”

“I…” Nia was silent for a moment, then, “Yes, I suppose I
am,” she admitted softly.

“Do the magic, Nia,” said Arthur, putting a hand on his
sister’s shoulder. “We need you at your best.”

“Yes, all right.” Nia fumbled in the pocket of her
dressing gown for Gail’s notebook and pen.

“Don’t you need a light?” Gail asked as the pen began
scratching across the paper.

“Not if you don’t distract me. There. Done.” Taking a
deep breath, she pressed the paper over the lump on her head. Gail felt her
entire body tremble, then she sighed and let the paper drop.

“You’ve still got a bit a bump,” said Gail, poking it.

“Ow! Will you stop that? The spell wasn’t large enough to
heal it entirely, but it’s much better, I promise.”

Gail was having trouble making out Nia’s face in the
gloom, but she did sound less bleary and pain-drunk.

“Don’t scare me like that, Ni,” Arthur said with no heat
behind the words. Then, “But this place can kill us?”

“Yes.”

“But what would… happen to us?”

“Illusions like this are naturally unstable, so it will
eventually break down on its own if not reinforced. It could maintain its
integrity for a year, maybe two, before it began to collapse. Then our bodies
would return fully to our reality.”

“And before that?”

“Have you ever had a moment where you tripped over
nothing and couldn’t understand why? The hotel staff will be having that
feeling a great deal until the pocket universe collapses.”

While she supposed there was something to be said for
becoming a good ghost story, Gail wanted a bit more out of life than that. “In
that case, I guess we better find Connery before anything else tries to kill
us.” She moved to continue down the stairs, but Nia caught her wrist.

“Wait a moment, are you feeling better, detective? You
seemed quite… unwell before.”

Gail had almost forgotten her vicious headache. She could
still feel a little tension in her temples, but that was all. “No, I’m okay. It
must have been the fire that set it off. It’s better now.” She looked at
Arthur. “What about you, doc? Are you feeling all right?”  

“I’m absolutely fine, but what did you call me?”

“Good, good,” Nia interjected. “Now, our best strategy is
to reach Mister Connery as quickly as possible.”

“And how are we going to do that?” asked Arthur,
forgetting the ‘doc’ business for the time being. “This place is impossible to
navigate.”

“Not if we’re clever,” Nia replied. “Connery is dead, so
he cannot actively alter the spell while we’re inside it. If we can keep him
from getting into our minds again, all we have to worry about are the static
traps he set before he died. And best of all, he won’t be able to change the
hiding place, which means once we figure out where he is, he won’t be able to
escape.”

“And he could if he were alive?”

“Oh, certainly.”

Another reason why a dead Connery is better than any
other kind of Connery.
But all Gail said was, “So there’ll be more traps?”

“Without question.”

“Great,” said Arthur.

“Spectacular,” Gail agreed.

Nia ignored them both. “But the pertinent question is
where
did Connery choose to hide himself?”

For several moments, they all fell into silent thought,
Gail pointedly not listening to the odd shuffling sound she heard in the
distance. All right, if she had to hide something in a hotel, where would she
put it? Somewhere guests were unlikely to go. Somewhere people would get in and
out of as quickly as possible. “The basement.”

“The basement?”

“Yeah, a place like this will have to have a watertight
basement for the boiler and overflow storage.” Almost every proper building in
New Crossbridge had
a basement, even if they were mostly just structural
liabilities these days. Back when the sun shone hard and hot enough to blister,
the basements had been essential shelter, but now the underground belonged
mostly to the water and the rats. There were a few times Gail had chased
suspects down into the abandoned subway tunnels and at their deepest point,
they were little more than poisonous black rivers. She could remember creeping
through damp darkness, listening to unlucky rats drowning in the distance.

Sometimes she had nightmares about it.

She shook off the dark memories. This was no time to
dwell on bad dreams. “A fancy place like this has the money for regular
water-proofing, so their basement will be usable. It’ll have lots of dark dry
spaces to hide things in and most people will get in and out as quickly as they
can.”  To clarify, she added, “Basements are creepy.”

“Sounds perfect!” Gail could tell Nia was beaming even in
the darkness. “And easy to find.” She was silent for a moment and Gail heard
the pen hurrying across the paper again. “There. That should show us the way.
Now, we must stay together. We’re much easier prey alone.”

“Connery always did like easy prey,” Gail said dryly. She
jumped when Nia took her hand, but the Illuminator only held on more tightly.

“I told you, detective, we can’t afford to get separated.
You too, Arthur.”

Gail heard a put-upon sigh from the darkness in front of
them, but Arthur must have taken Nia’s other hand because she continued, “If we
run into any more traps, find cover and let me handle it. Let’s go. We don’t
want to keep Mr. Connery waiting.”

Feeling like she was on one of an outing back at the
children’s home, Gail let Nia lead the way down the staircase, which – for the
moment – was wide enough for the three of them to walk side by side. At least
Nia didn’t crush her fingers like the guardians at the home. They’d always held
on like they thought she’d bolt at any moment.

Okay, so that was probably because she’d run away seven
times before she hit her sixteenth birthday and aged out, but she didn’t think
that was an excuse for nearly breaking her hands.

“Down we go!” Nia’s bright voice echoed in the strange
space as hand in hand they descended into the darkness again.