The Warlock's Curse (22 page)

“And it’s not going to make us sick?” said Jenny. The brisk, businesslike tone in her voice told Will she was scared.

“That’s the whole point, there’s no magic in it,” Massy said. “Not a bit. It’s powered by electricity. It goes through an Otherwhere where the wind never stops, so they’ve rigged up a whole bunch of windmills to generate electrical power.”

“And what about that Connection Drop Problem everyone’s always talking about?” Jenny said. “What if that happens while we’re in there?”

“Unlikely,” Massy said, stroking his chin. “If it did, you might get stuck in there. But someone would get around to resetting the system. Eventually.”

Jenny looked at Will with naked alarm on her face.

“Never fear, Mrs. Edwards,” Massy chuckled. “You have a greater chance of getting struck by lightning.”

“Are you referring to the probability in a given year, or over a whole lifetime?” she snapped at him. “Because I will have you know they are orders of magnitude apart!”

Massy was taken aback by this outburst.

Will put a steadying hand on Jenny’s arm. “Actually, it’s probably more on the order of me personally getting hit by a meteorite within the next fifteen minutes,” he offered. Jenny’s eyes turned inward, and he could almost see the calculations flickering behind her eyes as she factored in a multitude of estimated variables, including the area of the Earth’s surface, the density of human habitation, the size of Will’s head ...

“About one in twenty trillion,” she concluded with a sigh, after just a few seconds. “That’s much better.”

Massy was silent for a long moment, looking between them. Then he released a whistle of admiration. Will felt a strange thrill of pride at having a wife—even a fictional one—who could be calmed by mathematical analysis.

“I guess I can see why you married her!” said Massy. “If Tesla Industries wasn’t men only, they might take you both.”

Jenny frowned at him, chin lifted regally “I’d say thanks for the compliment, except I can’t see how either one of those statements qualified.”

“All right, all right,” Massy said, throwing up his hands. Catching a glimpse of his wristwatch, he startled. “Hey, I got to get back and take my reading! Get on through, you two. And whatever you do, don’t stop in the middle.” He directed this advice at Will particularly. “Don’t you dare go Otherwhere exploring. You get lost in there, and no one’s going to come in and find you.”

Readjusting the satchel on his shoulder, Will took Jenny’s hand and opened the door.

“Oh yeah, and watch out for Jepson! He’s a no-good son-of-a—” But the rest of Massy’s words were lost as Will closed the door behind them.

All at once they were in a hot, arid desert under a bright burgundy-colored sky that roiled with clouds the color of pomegranate juice.

Powerful winds assaulted them. The force of the gusts plastered Jenny’s skirts against her legs and she had to seize her hat with both hands to keep it from being flung into the distance. Will squinted against the clouds of red dust that the wind kicked up. The windmills Massy had mentioned were clustered around the portal at intermittent distances, tall and black and stark, blades whirling like electric table fans.

The second door was, as Massy had said, about fifty feet distant. Like the door they had just come through, it looked like it belonged to the inside of a broom closet. Jenny grabbed Will’s arm and pulled him toward it.

“Come on!” she yelled, above the howling wind.

But Will could not move. He was frozen with awe. He was in an actual Otherwhere. An entirely different dimension. He could hardly believe it. He scanned the horizon, trying to freeze the wonder of it in his memory.

But then the Flume tucked inside his vest began making a strange sound—a high-pitched hum. He slapped a hand to his chest. The cigar box was getting warm. Hot actually. Very, very hot—very, very quickly. The hum became a squeal, loud and piercing. Then a screech. Will’s heart began to race. Leaping forward, Will dragged Jenny to the opposite door, threw it open, and pushed her through.

Chapter Eight

Detroit

D
ETROIT
, M
ICHIGAN
26
DAYS UNTIL THE FULL MOON

S
lamming the door behind him, Will stumbled across the polished floor of a dark and quiet room. He fell against the far wall, toolbag clattering on the floor at his side. There was the smell of burning wire and rubber; Will clawed at his chest, frantically reaching inside his vest to pull out the cigar box. Once he got it out he dropped it; it was hot as hell, smoking and sputtering. When he opened the lid, blue sparks leaped out, followed by little orange tongues of flame. Pulling his handkerchief out of his pocket he slapped desperately at the mechanism until the fire was out, then peered disconsolately inside the box.

“Damn,” he muttered.

“What happened?” Jenny breathed, alarmed. She was caked with fine red dust from hat to hem.

“I have no idea. I think—something to do with Critical Interactive Resonance, maybe?” His mind was already navigating the tangle of melted wires, trying to imagine what could have happened, and what he’d have to do to fix it ...
if
he could fix it. “Never even thought about what might happen if I took the Flume into a different Otherwhere ...”

“Well, it is clear you are thinking about it now,” Jenny said loudly, trying to break through his absorbed concentration. “Please, share.”

Taking a deep breath, Will turned his gaze away from the ruined Flume and onto her dust-streaked face.

“Every Otherwhere, being a different dimension, has slightly different laws of physics from our standard universe.” He spoke slowly, thinking through the problem as he did, drawing conclusions with every word. “The Otherwheres we use are compatible enough with ours to allow us to exist within them. But the physical incompatibility between Otherwheres can be quite substantial. Substantial enough that if you bring two of the wrong ones into contact with each other—”

“I’m guessing you’re about to say
boom
.”

Will frowned. “Not
boom
, exactly. More like
schloop
, as the two Otherwheres collapse in on each other. Then maybe
boom
after that. I don’t think anyone would live long enough to find out.”

“Oh,
wonderful
.” Angrily, Jenny began brushing red dust off of herself. “Not only is my lovely new suit simply
ruined
, but I almost got
schlooped
in an Otherwhere. So much better than taking the train.” She looked at the cigar box in Will’s hands. “Can it be fixed?”

Will released a long sigh.

“No.” He ran a glum finger over Admiral Dewey’s scorched face. “It’s ruined. I’ll have to build a whole new one from scratch.”

Jenny’s face lit up with rather more happiness than Will thought was appropriate. He glared at her as he climbed to his feet, tucking the ruined Flume back inside his vest. “What are you smiling about?”

“Don’t you see?” she said. “This takes care of all your problems with Tesla Industries! They wanted you to show them your Flume ... and now you can’t! It burned up! You’ll have to build a new one from scratch, and that will take weeks.”

“It’ll take a couple of days.”

“It will take
weeks
,” Jenny repeated, with emphasis. “Or to be more precise, it’ll take as long as it takes for me to file your patent. So you can stay in Tesla’s good books and still not get robbed blind. Problem solved!”

Will considered this. He shook his head.

“You think like a criminal, Scuff,” he said finally.

“I think like a
businesswoman
,” said Jenny. “There’s a difference. Now, where exactly do you think we are, anyway?”

The answer to that was simple enough; they were in a classroom filled with desks. One wall was lined with high windows, through which they could see the dark night sky. The sun had just been setting when they’d left California—so here was one clear indication that they’d emerged, as expected, many hundreds of miles to the east.

Another wall of the classroom was dominated by a large chalkboard, scribbled from edge to edge with complicated equations. Glancing over them, Jenny could not keep from rubbing out an incorrect variable and replacing it with another.

“Show off,” said Will. Jenny stuck her tongue out at him.

Passing into the hall, their impression that they were in some kind of school or university grew stronger. The classrooms were numbered, and banks of wooden lockers lined the walls. Given the late hour, the building was completely abandoned and quiet, and their steps rang on the linoleum floors as they set off in search of an exit.

“Hey!” A yell rang from the far end of the hall. “You kids! What are you doing in here?”

A janitor in well-worn overalls was approaching them, an old man with an extravagantly bushy walrus moustache. He wielded his pushbroom like a weapon, eyeing the trail of red dust they’d both left.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Look at this mess! You think I’m just here to clean up after slobs like you?”

“Well, you
are
the janitor,” Jenny pointed out.

“We just came through from California, along the Dimensional Subway,” Will quickly interjected. “Sorry about the mess.”

“I may be the janitor”—the man pointed the words at Jenny—“but that don’t mean I get paid to do my job twice. I already cleaned up this wing and I don’t mean to do it again!”

“Clearly, a man who takes pride in his work,” Jenny muttered. Will stepped on her foot.

“Sir, I’m supposed to meet Grigory Grigoriyev,” he said. “Is this Tesla Industries?”

The old man’s eyes widened, and then he barked an incredulous laugh that resounded through the silent halls.

“As if the
great master
would allow a Dimensional Subway inside Fort Tesla!” he sneered. “Boy, you don’t know much about Tesla Industries, do you?”

“I hope to learn more soon,” said Will. “I’ve been accepted as an apprentice there.”

“Ah.” The old man drew out the word, as if suddenly understanding something. “That explains it. You’re an awful lot younger than most of the apprentices. And what are you doing, bringing a girl with you?”

“You know, it gets awful tiresome, being referred to like a poodle,” Jenny said, crisply.

“A mouthy girl, too,” added the janitor. “What is she, a suffragette or something?”

Will put a hand on Jenny’s arm. “This is my wife.” The conversation was not only becoming too familiar, the kindling flame in Jenny’s eyes suggested it might imminently come to blows. “Could you just tell us where we are, and how to get to Tesla Industries?”

“You’re in the Detroit Institute of Technology,” the old man said. “Just because that hincty Russian is a pal of the dean here, he thinks he can give people free use of the place.” He pushed his broom emphatically through the dust Will and Jenny had trailed. “Make extra work for other people is what he does. Vagrants popping in and out at all hours. I don’t get paid to welcome guests, not even ones all the way from
California
.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” said Jenny, digging in her purse. She pressed a coin into the man’s hand. “There. Now you
have
been paid. Can you please tell us what time it is, and how we can get ahold of Mr. Grigoriyev, or, failing that, how we can get to Tesla Industries? In fact, can you provide us with any useful information? Or are you only capable of regaling us with your complaints?”

The janitor looked at the coin. With a deliberate gesture, he lifted it to his mouth and bit it. Then he tucked it slowly into his pocket. When he spoke, he addressed his answer to Will, as if Jenny didn’t exist.

“It’s getting on eleven,” he said. “You could try dialing Grigoriyev up, but I expect the switchboard at Tesla Industries is closed for the night.”