Stiletto

  “Not really.”

  “I did!” shouted Odette. “I did! It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life, and it broke my heart, but I made my choice!”

  “Odette, can you honestly say that you gave yourself entirely to Ernst’s cause?” said Saskia. She sounded so reasonable. “That you committed completely to seeking us out and destroying us? Did you do everything in your power to help them catch us? Did we become your enemies?” Odette hung her head.

  “No.” It was true. She’d held back. In her heart of hearts, she hadn’t made them her enemies, and she’d secretly hoped that they wouldn’t get caught. I didn’t want the attacks, I didn’t want people dying, she thought. I just wanted my friends to retreat, to live their lives away from this.

  “You couldn’t choose against us,” said Saskia. “You couldn’t choose against the rest of the brotherhood. So we’re removing the choice for you.”

  “What?”

  “You won’t have to choose, Odette. That’s our gift to you.” Odette felt Simon’s hand on her shoulder. “Today, the ridiculous peace between the Checquy and Broederschap will die.”

  “What are you going to do?” asked Odette weakly.

  “Don’t fool yourself,” said Gestalt. “It won’t be pretty.”

  “Actually, it was you who gave us the idea, Odette,” said Simon placidly.

  “Me?” said Odette, her mind reeling. “No, I never—what are you talking about?”

  “We were floundering about before,” said Claudia. “All that rage, and we had some good concepts, but we didn’t have an end point in mind.”

  “Striking at the Broederschap was the easiest thing for us to do,” said Simon. “We thought that if we demonstrated our feelings, showed how appalling this was, our colleagues and our family would reconsider. But that wasn’t realistic. They’re too much under the thumb of Ernst.”

  “You kept it up, though,” said Odette softly.

  “Every little piece of stress helps to destabilize,” said Saskia. “Who knows which straw will break the camel’s back?”

  “So we moved our focus to the Checquy,” said Claudia. “A much larger organization with greater diversity. And when Gestalt joined us, she provided us with better insights into their weak points. Their indoctrinated hatred for the Broederschap. The pressure they face from the British government. We tried to take out Rook Thomas, the one who was really making the merger happen. Gestalt thought that if we removed her from the equation, it would all break up.”

  “It was a good idea,” said Gestalt, inspecting her nails.

  “And if you hadn’t botched it, it might have worked,” said Claudia.

  “Botch is a very strong word,” said Gestalt, looking over at Odette pointedly. “In any case, I like to think it shook her up a bit.” Odette kept silent. She was not about to share any information, especially information that Gestalt might enjoy.

  “I was always against it, anyway,” said Saskia. “You know if you kill her, you’ll just make her a martyr to the cause.”

  “Which brings us to today’s attack,” said Claudia. “It’s very last-minute, but one of the advantages of our being a small group is that we’re very flexible.”

  “What are you going to do?” whispered Odette. She was still reeling from the suggestion that she was the origin of their plan.

  “There’s a group of Checquy children in town,” said Simon.

  “No,” breathed Odette.

  “They’re here for a field trip.”

  “No.”

  “We’re going to kill them.”

  “No!” She slammed her hand down on the table.

  “That’s the reaction we’re looking for,” said Simon. “Gestalt told us about your terror when you thought Alessio might have been caught up in the fog attacks. She said that you were distraught at the very idea of it.” Odette shot Gestalt a poisonous look. The blond woman winked at her.

  “Mariette is there now, waiting for the students to arrive,” said Saskia. “Then, when she judges it appropriate, she will unleash a poison that will wipe out the group.”

  “This will hit them hard,” said Simon. “According to Gestalt, Grafters killing Checquy children will strike a particular chord in the Checquy mentality. It dates back to the Isle of Wight. They have some oral tradition that they all have to experience.”

  “Now, I didn’t think it would be necessary,” said Saskia. “We really, really thought the fog attacks would push them over the edge. That the mutilation and terror would kill the negotiations immediately. Frankly, I thought the Checquy would kill the delegation as well.”

  “Including me,” said Odette.

  “We tried to snatch you, ’Dette,” said Saskia. “We really did.”

  “Killing those children will hurt them like nothing else could,” said Simon.

  “In an ideal world, we’d destroy their training ground,” said Claudia. “Kirrin Island would be full of little corpses if we could manage it. But it’s impossible.” She shrugged awkwardly. “It’s too well guarded.”

  “Our attack today may not even get them all,” said Saskia. “I expect there will be some little monster who doesn’t need to breathe air or is actually a living song or some such ludicrous atrocity. But that’s not a bad thing, really. Traumatized witnesses ensure that the story doesn’t die. A kid, scarred for life by what he’s seen, that will whip the Checquy into a frenzy like nothing else.

  “And it will be public, so the regular people will be outraged too. The Checquy will have to scramble around, produce fake families to mourn the loss. Unless they decide to pretend that they’re orphans. Which just adds to the pathos, really.”

  “And Alessio?” said Odette weakly.

  “We will do everything we can to protect him,” said Saskia. “We do understand—he’s the real reason you didn’t come with us.”

  “But he’s not,” said Odette faintly. “He wasn’t the only reason.”

  “We care about him too, ’Dette.”

  “I can’t believe you would kill children,” said Odette. This can’t be happening. They can’t mean this, not truly.

  “They’re not really children,” said Claudia. “They’re not humans. Humans can’t do what they do.”

  “We are in no position to say what humans can and cannot do, Claudia!” said Odette.

  “Don’t cheat yourself, ’Dette,” said Saskia. “We are human. It’s human to make tools. To fix broken bones, and straighten teeth, and remove cataracts. Humans figure out new ways to do things, organ transplants and fighting disease and doing research.” She gestured around the room to her comrades, and Odette noticed herself included in the group. “We’re just ahead of the rest of them.

  “But I’ll tell you what humans don’t do,” she said in a poisonous tone. “They’re not born with fangs, or mirrors for skin, or with the air around them turning to bronze. They don’t swim through the earth. Those creatures aren’t human. They’re vermin, they’re cockroaches. And the targets? They’re baby cockroaches. That’s all.”

  “And you!” Odette exclaimed to Gestalt. “Doesn’t this concern you? These people you’ve allied yourself with—they don’t think of you as human.”

  “I don’t think of myself as human either,” said Gestalt. “I’m something more. But then, I’m something more than the rest of the Checquy too. I’ve always known that.”

  “The Checquy killed us,” said Saskia calmly. “They would have wiped us out. They don’t get any mercy.”

  “Everyone in the delegation will be finished,” said Odette. “They’ll destroy them.”

  “And that’s a loss,” said Claudia, “but this is war. And it will put everyone else in the Broederschap—all our people in Europe—on our side. They’ll be able to evade the Checquy. There are fallback plans. I’ve seen them. I’ve read the files.”

  “And then?” asked Odette. “Do you think they will just leave us alone? After what you’re going to do? They will never stop coming.??
?

  “The Broederschap hid before,” said Simon. “For centuries.”

  “They thought we were dead,” said Odette.

  “And they were fine with that,” said Claudia, and her voice shook with barely controlled rage. “The Checquy felt no guilt, no doubt about what they had done. They nursed their spite and their hatred for generations, even when they thought they had won.”

  “They didn’t find us because they weren’t looking for us,” said Odette. “Now, they’ll know.”

  “We’ve learned a lot since then,” Simon observed. “Look, they’ve been trying to track us down this whole time.” He gestured around the room. “We’ve been right in England, in London, and they haven’t caught us. They never will.”

  “You would make us fugitives!” said Odette. “Forever.”

  “It would be better than joining ourselves with them,” said Claudia.

  They cannot be convinced, Odette thought in despair. “Where is Pim?” she asked finally.

  “Why are you doing this?” asked Saskia.

  “What?” asked Odette.

  “Why won’t you acknowledge the truth? You hate them too, Odette!” said Saskia. “You can’t pretend you don’t. You can’t pretend to me. I know you too well.”

  “Where is Pim?” said Odette coldly. “I want to talk to him.” This time, I can make him see, she thought. I know I can. And if I can convince Pim, then the rest will follow.

  “He’ll be here in a moment,” said Claudia finally. “He’s just finishing up with that Checquy-thing that Gestalt brought in with you.”

  Felicity!

  48

  Felicity knew immediately what had happened.

  I failed.

  I failed at every single thing they ordered me to do.

  I did not prevent the Antagonists from seizing Odette.

  I did not capture a member of the Antagonists.

  I did not keep her safe, and alive, and in Checquy custody.

  I failed.

  Compared to all these failures, the fact that she was lying paralyzed on a surgical table did not seem quite so bad.

  Although it was bad enough.

  The paralysis was ghastly. She could not move at all, not anything. Her chest rose and sank by itself, so presumably her body was being permitted to keep up basic functions, but she was just an occupant. A passenger. Fortunately, her eyes were open so she could see, but she could not move them, and she could not blink. If they were drying out, if they were burning, she did not feel it.

  What she could see was not good. The room was distressingly familiar. The featureless white walls that blended into the ceiling and (she assumed) the floor, the glow that came from everywhere. Back in a skin room, she thought grimly. She heard movement from somewhere in the direction of her feet, a clinking of metal. So, I can hear, she thought. I can hear, and I can see, but I can’t feel anything. She couldn’t even tell if she had clothing on.

  What about my powers? she thought, and she tried to use her Sight to read whatever she was lying on. Nothing. She could not even use her Sight to detect if she was wearing clothing. She remembered Odette saying that some of the surgical suites could grow their own tables and tools. Either they’ve paralyzed my powers, she thought, or I am naked and lying on something that is alive. She was not certain which she found more distressing.

  “I know you’re awake,” said a voice from beyond her feet. It was a man’s voice with the same accent as Odette’s. “I know that you can see and hear but do nothing else. Don’t worry, I’m not going to torture you.”

  Well, it’s nice of you to let me know, thought Felicity.

  “You won’t feel a thing.”

  Somehow, that does not make me feel any better.

  “There’s nothing you can tell me that I need to know,” said the voice. “Gestalt has only the vaguest of recollections about you. She could us tell practically nothing about your powers besides what we read in your files.”

  I can’t have heard that right, thought Felicity. The male Gestalts are in prison, and the female Gestalt is dead.

  “But we do know that when some of the Checquy Pawns are sedated or unconscious, their powers will activate to protect them. So we have to be very careful. I don’t know if you’re one of those, but just to be certain, I have sedated various parts of your brain so you can’t activate your abilities.”

  Okay, so that explains that. But it still doesn’t tell me if I’m naked or not.

  “Anyway, you should know,” said the man, “if I get the slightest impression that you are pulling some Checquy magic, I will immediately slice open your carotid artery, and you will die right here in this room, on this table.”

  Understood, she thought.

  “Honestly, I don’t know what Gestalt was thinking, bringing you here at all,” he said.

  Gestalt must be that woman Odette knew. Pawn Sophie Jelfs, thought Felicity. How is that possible?

  “Still, I thought I’d better take a quick look over and inside you, just for safety’s sake. I know you’ve been attending Odette for a while now.” He talked on, more to himself than to Felicity, although he addressed all the remarks to her. “Gestalt thought we might be able to use you somehow to spur on the Checquy after tonight. ‘Adding insult to injury,’ she said. To be honest, I think she’s just excited to be out in the world. She gets a little overwhelmed by the freedom of it all.”

  She sprayed me in the face, Felicity remembered. And Odette too, I think. So Odette wasn’t a mole. She’s not a traitor. I’m so glad.

  “After all, we can just grab a Checquy person whenever we need one,” the man was saying. “For God’s sake, they do go home, some of them. Not the Court, apparently, they’ve all been staying tucked away in their fortresses for the past few weeks, but the rank and file go to their houses and apartments.”

  Not this little black duck, thought Felicity. I never get to go to my place. Had to put my dog in the boarding kennels.

  “Anyway,” said the man, “I have to make sure there are no surprises tucked away. And see if I can get a clue about the nature of your powers. I admit the whole idea is fascinating.”

  Good luck, thought Felicity. The scientists at the Estate spent years trying to figure it out.

  “You’ve got quite a few scars, you know,” he remarked.

  I do know that; I was present when I got them.

  “Good musculature.”

  Why, thank you.

  Then he was moving around, up into her field of vision, peering down into her face but not her eyes.

  Oh, I know you! I saw you in the photos. You’re Pim, the boy Odette gets all teary-eyed about when she thinks no one sees.

  I’ll give you credit, you’re quite a cutie.

  He reached out and touched her face, and she could see the crescents of her cheeks rise up a little at the very bottom of her vision.

  He’s opened my mouth.

  Then he was coming closer, and his face was intent. His eyes were a smoky gray.

  You are yummy, thought Felicity. Odette has good taste in terrorists.

  “You used to throw up your food,” he said finally. “Years ago. They repaired your teeth, and did a pretty good job of it, but I can still see traces.” He still hadn’t looked her in the eye. “But I don’t think that’s particularly relevant to our situation here. You don’t have hollow teeth filled with cyanide, and no foldaway fangs.

  “Now, I just want to take one quick look under your skin,” he said. “No big cuts, but if your powers are touch-based, then maybe your epidermis will show something interesting.”

  Sure, knock yourself out, thought Felicity. I’m just gonna lie here and work on my haikus, since I have nothing better to do. He moved down so that he was just barely in her field of vision.

  “Just a small incision on the palm, and I can peel it back and s—merde!” There was a fizzing sound, and an acrid smell wafted through the air.

  Oh, good, she thought. I get to smell things too. The
n a cloud of bottle-green smoke was billowing up from somewhere and filling the room. It grew denser and denser until she couldn’t see anything. Even the radiant light from the walls and ceiling was blotted out. Did that come out of me? she wondered. Good.

  In normal circumstances, the prospect of a torrent of apparently poisonous gas emanating from her might have been mildly concerning, but she’d already accepted the entire situation as hopeless. Now, anything that might screw over her captors was good.

  “God!” Pim was choking, coughing, wheezing, and, from what she could tell, swearing a lot in a language she didn’t know. Guess something went wrong. She felt a little bit of satisfaction at the thought. See? Not in control of everything, are you?

  Eventually, however, the smoke grew thinner, and light began to shine through again. She couldn’t see Pim, but the weak sound of coughing seemed to be coming from somewhere near the floor. All she could do was stare up at the ceiling, which was not in good shape. There were gray splotches from which no light shone, and sections where the skin was drooping down limply. Pim’s retchings went on for a while, and when his face finally appeared in her field of vision, his skin was red, his eyes were weeping, and he did not look happy.

  “So, it seems that someone from the Broederschap injected a few things into you,” he said tightly.

  Oh, yeah, the inoculations, remembered Felicity. They seemed like a long time ago.

  “I should have guessed. Stupid of me. Do you know what they did?” he asked. “They put some weapons into your system. Some very, very nasty products. Very clever too; they reacted to the bone scalpel I was using. The Broederschap prefers to use bone blades—they’re sharper and better than steel ones. But the shit in your veins could read it. If you got shot with a normal bullet or cut your legs shaving with a metal razor, nothing would happen. But as soon as your blood comes in contact with Grafter-grown bone, fssss!”

  No kidding. I wonder if Rook Thomas knew about this?

  “It’s designer stuff, masterpiece product,” he said. “And meant to kill me. Maybe kill the whole group.” His face was stern.

  Is it going to kill me? she wondered. Is my blood all poisoned and toxic?