Ann Aguirre - Mortal Danger

Wedderburn was even more inhuman than his photo suggested. Oh, he had all the right parts in the correct places, but he radiated a cold that surpassed the chill in the room. His hair was more like hoarfrost and his eyes were pools of black ice. Even his skin looked like it might crack if you touched it. No wonder they need agents like Kian. They can’t travel too easily in the mortal world. I had no idea why I’d chosen that word, but it fit. This wasn’t a human creature, if it ever had been. He was doing something at an odd white metal desk, only it was no compound I’d ever seen before, as it held the opalescent gleam of mother of pearl. While the back framework looked like a computer, Wedderburn had his fingers in the screen, stretching and pulling at the surface so that shimmers of what looked like liquid mercury clung his fingertips.

On noticing our arrival, he flicked his hands, so that the computer-thing let him go and he rose with the sound of someone moving over fresh fallen snow. “Ah. Miss Kramer. You are a fascinating asset.”

“Thank you.” I had no idea if that was the right response, but when Wedderburn’s cheeks crackled in a smile, I guessed it was.

“I hope Kian has been taking good care of you?”

“He’s made it clear that I’m special.” Why, I had no idea, and I wasn’t sure Kian did, either. WM&G seemed to operate on a need-to-know basis.

There were no furnishings, nothing with which to entertain or make another person comfortable. So I stood in the icy air, wishing I dared reach for Kian’s hand. Even though he was supposed to be making me fall madly in love with him, I wasn’t sure how far along we were supposed to be, and I didn’t want extra attention from Wedderburn. Kian always used a particular tone when he mentioned his boss, and now I understood why. A whimper boiled up in my throat, but I choked it down.

“I see that you’re uneasy,” Wedderburn said. “I apologize. But certain necessities preclude a more welcoming environment.”

If it’s warmer, you melt into a puddle of goo? That wouldn’t surprise me at all.

“It’s all right. I’m more interested in hearing what you have to say than in taking tea.”

“Excellent. I appreciate efficiency. Just ask Kian.”

Despite myself, I glanced at Kian, who nodded. His expression was as flat as I’d ever seen it. Even his normally expressive eyes gave nothing away . This is the creature he works for, the one he’s trying to save me from. I wished I could be sure of it, and not fear he was secretly working in tandem to make me do exactly as they wanted.

God, I sound so nuts.

“He said you wanted to meet me,” I murmured.

“Indeed. Come around the desk, my girl.” The proprietary tone sent a shiver down my spine and I moved quickly to avoid one of his long, spidery fingers lighting on my shoulder.

What had looked slightly like a computer from the other side now looked like nothing I’d ever seen before. It seemed to be part creature, part machine, with a square head, for lack of a better word, and a metallic neck that led down to shoulders and arms that seemed to have been fused with the desk, which might also be alive, as far as I knew. The otherness of it was so appalling I had to look away.

“What is it?” I whispered.

“My interface to the Oracle. Through her, I can sort through various alternate futures, shadow threads, and encourage others.”

“Like the Moirae.”

“Ah, an educated girl. How charming.” But he reacted as if knowledge were a persimmon, unexpectedly tart on his tongue.

“But unlike the Fates, I can only shape or suggest. I cannot cut or create threads.”

If you could, you’d have won your game long before now.

He continued, “A shadow on a mortal fate, however, is often enough to blight it. I believe there are those who have been most unjust to you. It seems unfair that you must slog toward vengeance when a mind like yours should be turned to more important endeavors.”

“What are you proposing?” I asked.

“Let me take care of it for you.”

I thought of the assholes in the Teflon crew and could only imagine what Wedderburn would consider proper retaliation, but I sensed I had to be super careful in how I turned him down. Kian had counseled me to say I needed time to think, but if I didn’t nip this in the bud, it would only get tougher to say no later. “While I appreciate the offer, it would rob me of satisfaction not to orchestrate their downfall personally.”

Wedderburn sighed. “I was afraid you would say that, but … I understand. You will, of course, to permit me to be of service in some other fashion. I want to help you reach your true potential, Edie.”

With him wearing that insane smile, I feared I might be the next scary dictator in what Kian called my optimum timeline. “Thank you.”

“Would you like to see a demonstration?” he asked.

Part of me thought it was a bad idea, but I also couldn’t refuse everything. Wedderburn seemed like the easily offended type and I preferred to get out of his office without being flash frozen. So I forced a smile, the same one I gave to the Teflon crew, and said, “That would be amazing.”

“Come a little closer.”

Kian shifted and pulled in a breath, as if in instinctive protest, but I didn’t dare look at him. It required all of my willpower not to shiver uncontrollably and wrap my arms about myself. In addition to the cold, this strange creature also radiated a primordial dread that made my skin creep, trying to crawl all the way off my muscles and bones in horror that no amount of meds or therapy could fix. The whimper in my throat became a silent scream.

“Of course.”

Wedderburn turned toward the head-monitor-thing and swiveled it so I could see the liquid mercury stuff. Before he reached inside the frame, it was opaque, but at his touch, it shimmered and turned translucent, so each time he stirred icy fingertips, a new pattern rippled, first a star, then a pentacle, and then it turned into a cephalopod with tentacles lashing in all directions. He speared one with a fingertip and it flowered into a murky image, similar to a convenience store surveillance camera’s, only cast in liquid.

Vi.

Like the room around me, my blood iced over. Fear wasn’t a deep enough for the feeling that swamped me, tighter and knottier than sickness. Outwardly, I kept a cool front, apart from my breathing, but I couldn’t do anything about it. My stomach swirled as we spied on her. She was at home, head bent over her schoolbooks. Now and then, she smiled at the candid photo of her and Seth taped to her mirror. I took that shot. The scene was ordinary in every possible way, and it was unspeakably wrong for us to be watching her like this.

Beside me, Wedderburn was silent, a faint smile playing at the edge of his lips. “A shadow here … or here … would change everything,” he said conversationally. “Your friend seems to have a bright future.”

Seems. That’s definitely a threat.

He went on, “It would probably crush her if something happened to her new beau. Ah, first love. I’m not sure she’d recover.”

He stirred the surface again, without pulling or changing anything that I could tell, and now we were watching Seth. He didn’t have a picture of Vi on his wall, which might disappoint her, but she was the wallpaper background on his laptop. I didn’t know if that made it better or worse. Idly Wedderburn flicked the liquid and Seth rubbed his head.

“Very impressive,” I managed to say. If I revealed how much I cared, it would go poorly for my friends. I understood that instinctively. The prick of pain on my palms told me I was dangerously close to breaking through the skin with my fingernails. “But surely there are rules about harming mortals who aren’t part of the game.”