Page 22 of Magic for Nothing

Leo sighed. “There’s a lot more out there than just wasps. Assuming the elders agree that you are who you say you are, you’re going to learn that the world is a much darker and more dangerous place than you ever thought it was. I’m almost sorry you’ve been able to get this far, because you can’t go back. You’re never going to look at the shadows the same way. You’re lost. Just like the rest of us, you’re lost.”

There was something sad in his voice at the end, like he wished something better for me, something other than this unmarked van ploughing through the British countryside. It was impossible not to feel bad for him. Anger followed close on the heels of my sympathy. He was a member of the Covenant. Even if he’d never done fieldwork, even if he was just a secretary sitting in his safe little bookstore, he was still supporting an organization that killed sapient beings for no good reason beyond “we don’t like them.”

Dominic had been willing to quit for Verity. Dominic had also been disillusioned, in love, and an orphan: he had no family ties to keep him with the Covenant. Leo was different. Leo had a family. He wasn’t going to walk away, even if I’d been in a position to ask him to—which I was not. My situation was nothing like my sister’s, because I couldn’t start making Leo see things from my point of view, and I wasn’t here to seduce us another turncoat. That’s the sort of battle of attrition we can’t win. I had to pretend to see things the way he did, and pray it didn’t get me killed.

“My whole family’s dead because of the things that came out of the woods, and nobody believes me when I try to say what happened,” I said. I didn’t have to fake the quaver in my voice. It was born of fear and frustration, not sorrow, but those things can sound suspiciously alike. “I’m already lost. I’m hoping that maybe this is where I can be found.”

The van shuddered to a stop. Leo smiled.

“I suppose we’re going to find out.” He stood, the motion exposing the stun gun strapped to his hip—in case I somehow ripped my cuffs free of the van’s frame and went for him, which seemed ludicrous, but was probably standard procedure—and walked, slightly hunched, to the back doors. He hit them with the side of his fist three times. Someone outside knocked back twice. He replied with another three knocks, a pause, and a fourth knock. Code. Lovely.

The doors opened. Light flooded the van. I squinted, only turning my face partially away; I wanted to see, no matter how much it hurt.

What I saw was green, the rolling green hills of the English countryside, stretching out toward what seemed like forever. What I saw was a hedgerow of blackberries and brambles and little yellow flowers I didn’t recognize. There was a man standing to one side, ordinary looking, the sort of man I wouldn’t have given a second glance if I’d passed him working in his garden or walking his dog. He looked like he was in his mid-to-late thirties, with sandy blond hair that was going gray at the temples and wire-framed glasses that somehow hid the color of his eyes. They were probably tinted for some reason, maybe to treat a vision problem, maybe because he spent a lot of time seeking out gorgons and making their lives a short, painful experience.

He looked at me with the slow gaze of the career serial killer, and it took everything I had to keep from shying away. It didn’t feel like he was undressing me with his eyes: that would actually have been better, or at least more familiar. It was like he was checking me for weapons without taking a step toward me. Somehow, I had no doubt this man would be able to spot the knives I usually carried and considered so well-concealed, or the various other tricks of my trade that I’d been forced to leave behind when I flew to London.

I have never been so glad to be unarmed. There was no question in my mind that this man would have been happy to make me disappear if I’d been carrying so much as a garrote.

“What’s this, then?” he asked, eyes still on me.

“Her name is Timpani, and she’s here for assessment,” said Leo. He produced a set of keys and unlocked the cuffs holding me in place. I immediately sat farther back on my bench, rubbing my wrists. I made no effort to hide my discomfort. Anyone would have been uncomfortable in this situation, infiltrator or not.

Anyone.

“Where’d you find her?” asked the man.

“She found us. Her family was killed by a swarm of Apraxis wasps, and someone pointed her at the bookstore.” Leo was talking like I wasn’t there, but his body was angled to partially block me from the stranger’s view, giving me time to adjust to both the light and my new freedom. He was trying, in his own small way, to protect me. “She checks out as human, carrying no charms or contraband, and I’ve been cleared to bring her for further assessment.”

“We’re taking in strays now?”

“Strays with useful skills, yes. Having an American passport and the specific knowledge set for carnival infiltration are useful skills.”

The stranger was silent for a count of five. Then he turned to me, and said, “Come out of there. I want a better look at you, and it’s not as if you can hide from me forever. Not if you’re planning to train with us.”

“Sorry,” I said, and scooted down the bench toward the door before standing and hopping out of the van. Leo touched my shoulder as I passed him—a light, reassuring moment of contact. I didn’t look at him. My attention was reserved for the stranger, who was continuing to watch me like he hadn’t yet decided whether I should live or die.

He cocked his head once I had my feet on the ground. “What’s your name?”

“Timpani Brown,” I said.

“Funny name.”

“Funny parents. Most people call me ‘Annie.’”

“What, not ‘Tim’?” He smirked. It wasn’t attractive. “I’m Robert Bullard. Security in this place funnels through me. I don’t like your attitude—or I don’t like your face—and they never find your body. How do you feel about that?”

“I’m here because there’s no one left to miss me,” I said. “Those things took everything when they killed my family. So you can threaten if you want to. I guess you’re going to anyway. But if staying here means I can learn how to keep what happened to me from happening to anyone else, I’m going to stay, and you can learn to live with it.”

“She’s got you there, Robby,” said Leo. “Annie, Rob’s in charge of security, so when he says something like ‘don’t climb under that fence’ or ‘the third floor is off-limits,’ you have to listen. But apart from that, he’s not going to be in charge of your training, and he’s not going to handle your day-to-day. All right?”

“All right,” I said, as timidly as I could. “Can I get my things?”

“Please.”

My luggage had been assembled to bolster my cover story without overwhelming me in things I’d have to carry. The only piece that was even slightly out of place were the roller skates at the bottom of my suitcase, which were there for my sanity as much as anything else. If they asked me to show them what I could do, skating was on the list, and was a believable carnival skill. Also, I’d lose my mind if I had to play the good little Covenant girl and couldn’t stay in decent shape.

No one helped me wrestle the suitcase out of the van. Leo looked like he wanted to, but he kept his distance. Probably more tradition, something about the new recruits coming to the Covenant under their own power and without aid. Sometimes the urge to punch tradition solidly in the nose is the only thing that keeps me going.