Worlds Apart (8 page)

Chapter 8

Farendale was Kaarmanesh's largest
city, sited on the same island that in the human world held
Manhattan. As Clive stepped through the portal with Magger in tow,
it occurred to him that he preferred the Kaarmanesh version. Like
the rest of their tangential dimension, Farendale was cleaner than
New York. The air was fresher. There were more trees.

Fewer people too, even if you
counted the goblins. He tugged on the cuffs that attached his left
arm to the clasped hands of his prisoner. Magger was staring around
him at the high ceiling of the portal building, and the crowds of
people hurrying to find an empty portal. His stare was not
returned. Farendalers could be just as self-absorbed as New
Yorkers.

“Let's move, Maggot.” Clive eased
into the crowd, forcing the goblin to scramble after him. He was
glad for Magger's silence since the little beast had not ceased
whining from the moment Clive picked him up at Sheriff Nancy's. It
was almost enough to make him wish for a full moon.

It was three short blocks to the
building that housed Kaarmanesh Security. At eight stories, it was
one of the tallest buildings in Farendale, its orange and blue
awnings lending a cheerful air to the red exterior. That was,
perhaps, a false impression, but Clive considered it a decent
enough place to work. Most of his job was in the field,
anyway.

Magger seemed to relax as they
entered the building, and Clive sent him a quizzical glance.
“What's wrong, Maggot? Don't like crowds?”

Magger's thick lips bent into a
grimace. “What if I don't? Ain't a crime.”

Clive shrugged, his interest
waning. He pushed the goblin into an elevator, with an apologetic
grin to the two female clerks who stopped several feet away. He
held the door for them, but they shook their heads, one of them
waving her hand in front of her face. Clive understood. It would
take a while for Magger's stink to clear from this car. Goblins
smelled worse than ever when they were anxious.

That stink would cause a problem
if he questioned Magger at his desk. After a moment's thought,
Clive told the car to take them to the detention level. Might as
well get the little beast settled in and question him
later.

He took his time signing Magger
into detention, letting the goblin get a good look at the maddened
rabble currently in the common room. The social order of the room
flowed in a restless wave, changing with the species or power level
of those in attendance. The only common theme was a disregard for
the welfare of others. Magger watched them, his bulging lips
pressed tight, his chin lifted in offended resolve.

When Clive put a hand on Magger’s
back, he jerked away. “I demand a private cell,” he
said.

The nearest guard snorted at this.
Clive scratched his head, as if giving it thought. Then he
shrugged. “None available. Sorry, Maggot.”

Magger dropped the injured pride
act and let honest fear show through. “You can't put me in there
with those creatures! They'll kill me!”

“Nah, they won't. They're a fairly
sophisticated bunch. They know they can't kill you.” Clive waved
him into the hands of the guard and stepped back. “I wouldn't wait
too long to give me the answers I need, though. We do have cells
for prisoners who cooperate.”

“I don't have anything to tell
you, honest.” Magger raised his bound hands. “I swear I don't know
anything.”

Clive stepped into the hallway,
tossing a brief salute to the goblin as he left. The closing door
cut off the sound of Magger's screech.

He'd just sat at his desk on the
fourth floor to write his report when footsteps approached from
behind. He closed his eyes for the briefest moment, begged the
Sisters to grant him favor, and turned to face his elvin
boss.

Kasia Windblood towered above him
at six-foot-six, her short black hair pushed behind the elegant
points of her ears. Stern bangs did not hide the displeased arch of
her brows, nor the spark in her blue eyes. Still, he noted the
trace of amusement in her expression and knew her anger wasn't
directed at him.

“A goblin,” she said.

“He's got information we need,”
Clive explained. “Isn't disposed to give it to us. A few days with
the rabble will loosen him up.”

“Oh? He's not the one who was
crossing the portal?”

“He crossed over, all right.”
Clive flicked a finger at his desk. “I'm still writing my report,
but the short story is, there's a new crime boss in action, sending
scouts into the Flatlands to look for something. Or prepare for
something.” He held up a hand to forestall her next question. “That
crime boss is a werewolf.”

Her reaction was gratifying.
“What? Are you sure? Oh,
fuck-a-pixie,
of course you're
sure.” She turned and leaned against his desk, her glare enough to
burn a hole in the floor. “Do you know who he is?”

“No, I don't know who he is.”
Clive bit back a condescending tone. She wasn't trying to insinuate
that he knew every werewolf in Kaarmanesh. “But he's been through
the portal at least once, and he's set up a weird hex several yards
away in the Flatlands. He's a witch, too. Has a ward on it that I
can't begin to decipher.” He held his strap out to her.

She enlarged his drawings and
studied them, her brows bunched into a wad over her nose. She shook
her head. “I don't know it, either. This will take some time.
What’s our goblin had to say so far?”

“Not a damn thing. I'll check on
him first thing tomorrow. Two other goblins got away from me. And a
nymph, but she's run off, too.” Clive pounded a light fist on his
desk. “I've got the local sheriff looking for them. And the
portal's closed. I made sure of that before I left.”

Kasia nodded, her dark gaze
burning into him. “All right. Get some sleep. We'll meet first
thing in the morning to handle the prisoner.” She tossed the strap
to him. “Send me that ward. I'll get someone in Research to
decipher it for us.”

~~

Magger's green skin was pale and
his eyes were bloodshot as he answered their questions the next
morning. He looked worse than ever, if such a thing were possible.
Clive wanted to be amused, but he found himself starting the
questioning on a gentle note. He'd even had the guard bring Magger
a cup of tea.

“He didn't tell us what he was
looking for,” Magger said.

“I wouldn't expect him to trust a
goblin.” Kasia sneered and leaned over the table, bringing her face
just inches from Magger, who winced and sat back. Kasia was bad cop
this morning, putting Magger in the confusing situation of having
to depend on the werewolf for protection.

Clive
did
think that was
funny.

“Nevertheless,” Clive said,
placing a light restraining hand on Kasia's arm. She sat back,
glowering. “You did have instructions of some kind. I want to know
what those were.”

“He said to get close to habitats.
He especially wanted the pixies getting in there. The rest of us
were supposed to find out how Flatlanders lived, who grew their
food, where the river was, things like that. And he wanted us to
look for garbage dumps.”

Clive held up a hand. “Wait.
Especially
the pixies? Was he deliberately trying to make
the people sick?”

Magger shrugged, making his chains
rattle. “That was the idea, yeah.”

Clive stared at the table,
thinking of Tina. So soft. So warm. He refused to imagine Tina
after exposure to Pixies.

“What did he want garbage dumps
for?” Kasia asked. “Someplace to dump your ugly body once he was
through with you?”

Magger shook his head. “He didn't
tell us. Honest.”

“What else?” she asked. “Did you
bring anything back with you?”

“A water bottle.”

“A what?” Kasia threw a glance to
Clive before turning another glare on Magger. “What the hell is a
water bottle?”

Magger moved his hands in a
helpless gesture of description, but Clive held up a hand. “They're
small plastic bottles the humans use to hold water. They carry them
everywhere. They're quite popular.”

Kasia shook her head. “So why'd
you bring one back here? Did your boss want it?

Magger nodded. “Don't ask me why.
I don't know.”

“Did it have water in
it?”

“No, he didn't want water. Just
the bottle.”

“Are you lying to me, Maggot?”
Kasia picked up Magger's teacup and put it to the side, her every
movement slow and deliberate.

Magger's eyes followed her hand
and he swallowed hard. “No ma'am. You know I'm not. I swear, I'm
telling you what he wanted us to do.”

“I'm supposed to believe your boss
sends pixies to the Flatlands to make humans sick, and all he does
is tell you to bring him an empty bottle of water?” She poked the
tip of a finger against Magger's shirt. He jumped as if she shocked
him. Perhaps she did.

“What are you not telling us?”
Each word was accompanied by a tiny poke.

Magger moaned. “That's it. We only
went over a few times. We wandered around, found some houses and
fouled the gardens and streams. We saw a few people, but didn't
bother them. We found small garbage dumps by all the houses, but
nothing consolidated. I got the bottle from one of the small dumps.
There were a lot of bottles everywhere, but I only brought back the
one. I swear.” He turned to Clive. “You know I'm telling the
truth.”

Clive shook his head, still
distracted by the thought of an ill Tina. “You're telling the
truth, Maggot. But you're not making sense. You gotta make more
sense.” He stood, a chin jerking to the guard near the door. “Take
him back.”

“No!” Magger fell across the
table, tripping on his chain. “I told you what I know. It's not my
fault it doesn't make sense. You know I could never ask the boss
what he was doing. I just did what he said.” He screamed as the
guard grabbed his shoulder. “You promised you wouldn't send me back
there if I talked! I talked! I don't know what else to tell
you!”

Clive took a fistful of goblin
shirt in his hand. Magger whimpered, but he ignored it. “You maybe
need a bit more time to think of something else. It's possible
you've forgotten something.” He looked up at the guard. “Make sure
he gets something to eat before you take him back. I want him
strong enough to think.”

He and Kasia stared at each other
until Magger's screams faded down the passage. Kasia lifted her
hands. “What the hell, Clive?”

“There's a town there,” Clive
said. “Those people will need help.”

She shook her head. “No way,
Clive. They'll get sick, some of them will die. But most of them
will get over it.”

“It's happened before. Thousands
died. They can't fix it.”

“Don't be melodramatic. You know
perfectly well their medicine is advanced enough to handle a small
outbreak.”

Tina was a doctor. She'd be right
in the middle of it.

“What's with the water bottles?”
Kasia asked.

“Damned if I know.” Clive stared
at Magger's teacup. “I wish he knew more about the werewolf. We've
got nothing.”

“You'll have to go back to
Poentreville and search yourself,” Kasia said. “But first, go to
New York and get me all the information you can on those bottles.
We can't afford to ignore anything.”

“Any leads on that
ward?”

She bit her lip. “Nope. It's a
tough one. Research is still working on it. It's weird, Clive.
According to Research, there are patterns in that ward that are
known only to higher level witches, who should all be registered
with the Council. But the signature on the ward doesn't match
anything on record.”

“We're fighting an unknown
fifth-level witch?” Clive whistled. “What would he want with the
Flatlands?”

“What any criminal wants. Murder,
mayhem, and total control. Only this fellow might be able to pull
it off, if we don't find him.”

Chapter 9

Tina limped out of the autopsy
room, her feet burning, her back full of twinges. Every pain was
exacerbated by the heaviness of her heart. She and Will were deputy
coroners. They took turns handling deaths in the area until the
county coroner could be called in. The job did not require them to
perform autopsies, but sometimes they did assist.

She had promised the mothers she'd
stay with the bodies. She'd done that as well as she could, seeing
them settled into the small morgue, before going home for a few
hours of sleep. In the morning, she contacted the county and
arranged for an autopsy team before facing ten more poisoning cases
during the day. The county team arrived at three o'clock and
started the autopsies at four.

Now it was two in the morning, and
at last, they were finished. Tina sank onto a stool and closed her
eyes to block out the florescent lights and institutional white
walls of the morgue. That was a bad idea—with nothing to distract
it, her mind called up an image of the three mothers she would have
to call in the morning.