Zero Sum (42 page)

Jules smacked me in the face. “Listen here, Dieter. The goal of tonight’s lesson is ta stay alive. Anything less and ya fail. You got that, ya chancer?”
 

Still shaken, I nodded.
 

The scent of pine was still curling about my nose as Jules melted into the crowd. Reaching up, I touched my mouth. Jules Nelson had just kissed me. This required some consideration—but the Duchess of Peoria was fifty feet away and closing, Monique was yelling orders over the open line, and Dante was prepping another shroud for Jules. I started moving my feet in the opposite direction while trying to work it all out in my head.
 

Had Jules Nelson, Adept Magus, Druid extraordinaire, just kissed me on the freakin’ lips?
 

I touched them again. They’d been so…warm.

The conversation going on in my left ear didn’t help my nerves. Monique was going on and on about high explosives and containment strategies. I frowned. Why didn’t
I
get to talk high explosives? That was my bag. This just wasn’t fair.
 

I grabbed a tray loaded with champagne and headed over to avert potential disaster number one: My reporter friend, Ms. Curray, was talking to the short, balding, middle-aged man who was about to conquer the entire Western Seaboard of the United States. Someone forgot to tell her you can’t make your deadline form inside a pine box. I tried my best to ignore the tectonic shift that had just shaken my love life and ran smack into Ms. Curray’s behind.
 

“Oh, darn it!” I exclaimed as the glasses of champagne tumbled to the carpet. “I’m so sorry, ma’am!”

Soaked and furious, Lauren Curray turned on me.
 

I motioned to the bar.

Ms. Curray’s face made a rapid transition from shock to calm. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, shaking the champagne off her arms. “Been there. Done that. Do you have any soda water behind the bar?”

Good call.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m terribly sorry. Please allow me to assist you.”
 

Keeping my eyes on the carpet, I turned with Ms. Curray to walk away.

“Young man,” a voice said from behind me. “A moment please.”

Crap.

He looked like someone’s jolly-old uncle—except for the eyes. Those were an entirely different can of worms. They housed two centuries worth of daggers ready to pierce through my defenses and contort my will. But Monique had warned me. It was a rather obvious point, but one deserving of repetition: Resistant or not, it is
highly
unadvisable to meet the eyes of a renowned mind mage. I didn’t dare. I focused on the large mole rising from his forehead instead.

“It would serve you to be more careful in the future.”

“Yes, sir.” I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m fresh out of training. I’m just so excited to be here that I…I guess I became careless. Please excuse my clumsiness, sir. I just want to do the best job possible.”

Carrera gave a slight nod. “Very well. Be sure to assist the lady in whatever she needs.”
 

He could take that request to the bank. Ms. Curray needed to get off this tower as soon as possible, and that was exactly what I intended to tell her. I led her past the bar and into the back storeroom. Even being near Carrera was taxing. I felt like I’d been studying for hours. Safe from prying eyes, I sagged. Amongst the chatter in my ear, I picked up that Jules and Dante had gotten back to the building core and she was setting up the circle. I checked my watch. Dessert service was starting soon. We were running short on time. I shook my head clear. First things first.

I clicked on my radio. “Ms. B, that relative is here.” There was no way in hell I was saying anyone’s name in front of Ms. Curray. The reporter was too damn sharp.

“Dieter,” Rei whispered. “Hide your scent. Use anything. I will handle her when I can get away from this useless oaf.”

“You plan on telling me what’s going on now?” Ms. Curray asked angrily. “I’ve got champagne-soaked panties thanks to you.”

“Some people call that foreplay—now hand over that breath spray.”

Ms. Curray crossed her arms and frowned. “Resnick, that may be the worst come-on in the history of world.”
 

I smirked. “Seriously, hand it over.”

Ms. Curray blanched. “How did you know I have breath spray? Can you people…” She pointed to her skull.

My eyes grew wide.
You people?
Oh, fuck me. Visions of DEA penal colonies danced through my head.

I took a deep breath. “No, ‘we’ saw you spritz before striking up a conversation with the most dangerous man in a hundred miles. Now hand the damn thing over.”

Ms. Curray looked doubtful but dug out the spray. I took the breath freshener from her hands and started fumigating myself. It was like those body spray commercials—except the objective was to keep the sexy ladies as far away from my throat as possible. Ms. Curray watched my ritual in utter bafflement. After I was done, I dug out some soda water and towels and turned to watch the door.
 

“Do you have any idea how much danger you’re in?” I asked.

“Says the teenager to the career professional.”

“Says the person who knows what the hell he’s talking about to the intrepid reporter who’s about to get herself killed.” The clinging of fork against glass signaled the start of dessert. I hoped the other servers could manage with Jules, Dante, and I out of commission.

“What would you have me do? Did you know there were four more electrocution-related deaths outside of Salt Lake City this weekend alone?”
 

Ms. Curray’s dress splattered to the ground. I listened as she washed it out in the sink. My throat knotted in tension—a mixture of fear for what might come through the door mingled with the intense desire to sneak a peak at what was going on behind me.
 

“He’s picking off cops, Resnick. He’s picking off DEA agents, reporters, and anyone else that gets in his way. There are even rumors that the senator from California didn’t die from a heart attack.” A dead senator? I hadn’t heard that one yet, but it fit the profile. Carrera had picked off the politicians that opposed him in Mexico. He was probably following the same pattern up here.
 

I checked my watch. Carrera would be taking the stage shortly.
 

“Listen, I would love to explain everything, but I can’t. Even if I—” My Sight flared. I had just enough time to step to the side before the champagne bottle came crashing down. Ms. Curray lost her balance and tumbled to the ground. She stood back up with a satisfied grin on her face. She didn’t notice the tight grasp my right hand had on my left. I swallowed. I’d nearly set her on fire.

“How did you know that was coming?” she asked.

“Reflection off the silverware.”

 
“Bullshit. There are rumors, Resnick, rumors that the DEA is more than meets the eye. It’s a two-billion dollar agency with less congressional oversight than the CIA. They’ve got dozens of overseas offices, helicopters, and even their own jails. And now DEA agents are popping up dead all over the place. If a couple dozen FBI agents got murdered, the media would be having a field day, but every article I submit…” Ms. Curray balled her fists. “It’s like the government is waging some sort of shadow war…I didn’t turn you in, Resnick, but I did check out your documents. Those fakes were perfect. Too perfect. They’re Government Issue, aren’t they?”

So she already figured me for DEA. I didn’t even figure myself for DEA, but Ms. Curray was the more right—I
was
working for them after all. I bit my lip. Maybe if I gave her a piece of the truth…

“You’re right, Ms. Curray. There’s a war on. It’s a war over an illegal substance, just not one you’d know about. But that’s not important right now. Right now, you need to get off this tower as fast as you can.”

Ms. Curray’s frown deepened. “Cut the crap and tell me what’s going on.”
 

It was like déjà vu. Hadn’t I said the exact same thing to Rei? Ms. Curray was where I was six months ago: clueless and exposed, trying to rationalize things that didn’t make sense, and questioning her own sanity as the clues led her further and further down the rabbit hole. I could let her know she wasn’t going crazy, couldn’t I? Ms. Curray’s info
had
helped us find where Carrera was hiding his ACT. If we didn’t screw it up, she might have inadvertently saved countless lives. I owed her for that. I bit my lip. I hated owing people. I balanced that desire with the prospect of being burnt at the stake. (I had looked it up. It was the human torch for claiming magic existed. Impalement was reserved for enslaving Imperiti.)
 

I took a deep breath. “I’ll show you what I can without getting myself killed. But you have to be doing this because
you
want to know. No one else will believe it, and if you try, you’re as good as dead.”

I could tell she couldn’t understand. She nodded anyway.

The law said I couldn’t tell her what I was—that I couldn’t willfully disclose my nature—but there was no rule against her catching me in act. That’s why DOMA employed WIP teams in the first place. Plus, I was on official business in the middle of a desperate war. That gave me more latitude for Public Displays of Magic. It couldn’t be helped if a single Imperiti caught me casting tonight. I prepared a transmutation in my head. Rei’s distrust of my fire spells had served as ample motivation to get them under control. I could do this one in my sleep. I didn’t even need to mouth the words.

“Alright, Ms. Curray, throw that bottle at me as hard as you can. Don’t ask why. Don’t think. Just do it.”

 
She seemed to like the suggestion. Gripping the bottle tightly, she flung it at my chest. I opened up my entrapment field and captured the kinetic energy rushing towards me. The bottle slowed to a crawl and then dropped uselessly to the ground. Transmuting the energy of the throw, I redirected the newly created heat at Ms. Curray’s small purse. The purse—along with the tape recorder hiding inside—burst into amber flames. Outside, the crowd burst into applause. Carrera was taking the stage.
 

“Thank you. Thank you very much,” I said, taking a bow. I walked over and doused the smoldering purse with some water.
 

“What did you—”

“Ms. Curray, get off this tower as fast as you can. Stay off the Strip tonight. If we mess up, you’ll have your story in the morning.” I’d given Ms. Curray her hint. That made us even-steven. Now, I had desserts to serve. I turned and headed out of the storeroom—and then the lights shut off.

Monique’s voice crackled over the radio: “Rei! Dieter! Get off the tower. We can’t wait. Ichijo’s been shot. He’s bleeding bad. We’re cut off. We have to extract. We have evidence. We have…” I heard gunfire crackle in the background. “…and…adie…be…ful…still—” The audio transitioned to a high-pitched squeal. I cursed and struggled to get the little siren out of my ear. Ms. Curray looked back and forth between me clawing at the phantom voices in my ear and her smoldering purse. All in all, she was doing pretty well.
 

“Are you okay?” she asked tentatively.
 

Finally getting the headset out, I glared at the little bastard in my hand. My ear was ringing like after a rock concert. Finest Japanese engineering my ass, I wasn’t getting those nerves back.
 

“Oh, just peachy,” I grumbled.

Peaking out the door, I checked the situation. Guards had come out of the woodworks. They were bearing stub-nosed machine guns and very negative dispositions. The only illumination was from the dim emergency lights. Men in tuxedos were dashing about yelling into radios. I assumed those were Carrera’s coven-mates. They were herding the guests into two groups. I ducked back into the storeroom and looked around. We needed a place to hide—and fast.

“What’s going on?” Ms. Curray asked.

“They’re sorting the guests.”

“Oh. Wonderful. And why are they doing that?”

“Separating perps from victims? Getting ready for a rousing game of dodge ball? How the hell am I supposed to know?” There was a large cabinet in the corner. I opened it up and started moving the boxes out of it. Ms. Curray caught my drift and gave me a hand. That done, we crammed inside and shut the doors. It was a tight squeeze. We ended up jammed against each other with our heads on one another’s shoulders.

“Resnick,” she whispered. “Why are we crammed into a cabinet hiding from men with guns?” She shifted her right foot out from under my butt. The inside of her thigh rubbed against my own. I prayed I wasn’t about to do something inappropriate.

“Carrera…” What did it matter? We were fucked anyway. “Carrera is about to attempt a reaping. We’re trying to stop him.”

 
“A what?”

“A reaping is a mass effect spell that uses people as fuel.”

“So, what you’re saying is, I’m trapped in a cabinet with a lunatic. Sorry, but could you let me off at the next stop?”

I smiled. “Excellent reaction. And if anyone else asks, that’s the right answer. Here’s the game. I’m a mage—sort of a trainee, actually—but I’m part of a group of mages that was tasked by a shadowy organization—which is sort of part U.S. government—to find evidence that the Talmax Corporation is illegally importing contraband from beyond our dimension.” I frowned. “At least I
think
the contraband is from beyond our dimension. I’m not so clear on that part. Anyway, the majority of my team was snooping around on the floor below us. The stuff we were looking for was built into the core of the building during the renovation. My team was collecting specimens when they were discovered.”

“The gunshots?” she asked. “You mean they are cornered?”

“No, I mean they
were
cornered. Captain R said they were extracting.”

“How? There’s no way to get off this damn tower unless you use the elevators. I wrote a story about it when the tower first opened. It’s a fire code disaster.”

“Ms. S opened a translocation circle.”