Magic and Loss - Нэнси Коллинз

Magic and LossGolgotham - 3byNancy A. Collins

Chapter 1

I awoke, as usual, to the sound of the alarm clock, the smell of bacon, and the sight of a winged hairless cat curled up beside me. I yawned and stretched as I swung my feet out of bed, glancing at the darkness outside my window. Still yawning, I made my way to the shower. Fifteen minutes later, I returned to find the previously mentioned butt-naked bat-winged feline sprawled full-length across the bed like a bolster.

You dont waste any time, do you? I chided the familiar as I put on my work clothes.

You lose, I snooze, Scratch replied, eyes still shut.

As I headed downstairs, the aroma of breakfast grew stronger. I entered the kitchen and saw Hexe, my landlord and loverand, oh yeah, heir to the Kymeran thronestanding in front of the antique stove, dressed in nothing but a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and an apron that said KISS THE COOK. He was frantically shaking a couple of cast-iron skillets, while our Boston terrier, Beanie, sat planted at his feet, intently watching every move, just in case an errant molecule of food might find its way to the floor.

I obeyed the apron and planted a big old sloppy smooch on my six-fingered cook. I glanced down at the stove top and saw that one pan contained yummy, yummy bacon and scrambled eggs, while the other held a grayish slice of what could charitably be described as pâté frying in a half-inch of grease.

Whats that? I asked, cautiously eyeing the slab of mystery meat. One of the first things I had learned upon moving to Golgotham was that Kymerans had a far more, ahem, adventuresome palate than that of the average human, and exhibited a fondness for foods that would make even the most daring gastronome think twice. I took it as a testament of Hexes love for me that he was willing to make a traditional human breakfast every morning and send me off to work with a neatly packed lunch pail that didnt contain such Kymeran staples as lutefisk sandwiches and white fungus soda.

Its scrapple, he explained cheerfully, tossing a lock of purple hair out of his eyes with a practiced toss of his head. Its made from hog offalthe heart, snouts, liver, that kind of stuffmixed with cornmeal and seasonings. Want some? Its really good with maple syrup, ketchup, and horseradish.

Thats okay, honey, I replied, pushing aside the flutter in my stomach. Some other time, perhaps. I think Ill stick to my usual this morning.

You got it! Hexe grinned as he snatched the other skillet off the burner and slid its contents onto a waiting plate. Your coffees already on the table.

You really spoil me, I said with a laugh as I sat down. None of my other boyfriends ever made breakfast for me, much less every day.

Thats because your other boyfriends sucked, he replied as he flipped over the square of scrapple.

True, that, I agreed as I nibbled on my baconcrisp as always, just the way I like it.

Besides, its only right that I make your breakfast and fix your lunch. After all, youre the one bringing home the steady paycheck.

You lift curses and concoct potions for your clients, I pointed out.

Yes, but Im self-employed. I never know what I might make on any given day. Youre the one putting in ten hours a day, six days a week, to support us.

Speaking of which, I better get going, I said, washing down my last bite of scrambled eggs with a slug of French roast and chicory. If Im not punched in by seven, Canterbury will be champing at his bit.

What time do you think youll be home? Hexe asked as he handed me my lunch pail.

Hard to say, I replied with a sigh. The deadline for that installation weve been working on is coming up fast, and were nowhere near finished yet. What about you? Do you have any clients lined up for today?

Just some salves and ointments, thats all. Oh, that reminds meheres that liniment Canterbury asked me to mix up for him, he said, handing me a bottle wrapped in twine and butcher paper. Tell him to keep it below the waist, if he knows whats good for him.

As I stepped out onto the front stoop Hexe gave me my usual off-to-work kiss, a public display of affection guaranteed to scandalize the Blue Hairs, and I dont just mean old Madam Yaya, who lived across the street. The traditional Aristocrat class of Kymeran society, the same ones who were far from pleased by the fact Hexes biological father was a member of the Servitor class, had made no secret that they disapproved of their Heir Apparent taking up with agasp!human, even one with magical powers.

The dawns first blush was lightening the morning sky as I made my way through Golgothams winding cobblestone streets, passing shopkeepers cranking out the awnings above their stores in anticipation of another day of business. I shook my head, thinking about how many times I had witnessed such early-morning rituals while staggering home to bed after a night on the town. A year ago if anyone had told me that I would find myself romanced by a Kymeran warlock prince, disowned by my parents, and working a blue-collar job to pay the bills, Id have laughed in his face. But here I am, knee-deep in love and gainfully employedall for the very first time.

When I came to this ancient, exotic part of the city, all I was looking for was cheap rent and someplace where I could bang away on my metal sculptures without my neighbors trying to evict me. And, to be honest, I also sought out Golgotham because I knew my douche bag of an ex would be too chickenshit to follow me. At the time, I was on the verge of making a real name for myself, with an established gallery opening in my pocket. . . .

But theres no point in dwelling on that. Whats done is done, and I wouldnt change what happened, even if it were within my power to do so. My dreams of breaking onto the New York art scene might be delayed, but for the first time in my life I truly felt like I was where I belongedalthough there are those who would argue that point.

There is no denying that my decision to move to Golgotham had repercussions. Many consider me responsible for establishing a beachhead for the recent influx of human artists and hipsters who have made the neighborhood the newest hot spot in the city. But then, Golgotham has changed me, as wellas evidenced by my recently acquired ability to bring the things I build to life. I dont know whether my relocating to Golgotham awakened a latent power within me, but theres no denying that Ive got magic now. Whos to say where it came from? For all I know I caught it from a toilet seat.

My daily walk to work was just long enough to qualify as exercise, and helped me clear my mind and organize my thoughts for the day ahead. However, as I strolled past the local newsstand, I made the mistake of glancing at the headline of that mornings Golgotham Gazette: MACHEN ARMS SOLD TO CHECKMATE PROPERTIES.

Great. Just freaking wonderful. Things had finally calmed down after the race riots and the Sons of Adam panic, and now this. Golgothamites were worried enough about gentrification without Ronald Chess, the most rapacious real estate developer in the Triboroughs, snapping up an apartment building. This was exactly the kind of thing Hexes race-baiting uncle, with his Kymeran Unification Party separatist group, used to whip up fear and resentment against humans.

The KUP had fallen idle since Esaus mysterious disappearance several months ago, which also coincided with the Sons of Adams suddenly going to ground. It wasnt really that big a coinkydink that Esau and the SOA happened to fall off the face of the earth at the exact same time, since the necromancer was actually the one controlling the human supremacists from behind the scenes, having gone so far as to create them via alchemy. The last I saw of dear old Uncle Esau, he was being dragged to hellor at least the Infernal Regionsby the very same demon he had summoned forth to kill me. And while the hateful old bastard was no longer around to stir up trouble, that didnt mean there still wasnt plenty of it to go around.

I sighed and tried to push my worries aside. Canterbury and I had a lot of work ahead of us, and fretting about something I had no control over or say in wasnt going to help us meet our deadline. Canterbury had been paid half the commission up front, and promised the rest upon delivery. Needless to say, the financial well-being of Canterbury Customs hinged on finishing the installation on time.

I would have to say that outside of falling in love and acquiring magical powers, joining the workforce has been the biggest change to my life since moving to Golgotham. After I refused to give up Hexe and move back in with my parents, I found myself cut off from my trust fund. No doubt my parents hoped I would wither up like a worm on a hot sidewalk. However, all it did was make me even more determined to stay put.

For the first time in my life I was living without a safety net, just like most Americans my age. Luckily I had a skilled trade to fall back onin my case, welding and metalworking. I was also lucky that Hexes childhood friend Kidron was willing to put in a good word for me at Chiron Livery.

Im not going to liebanging out horseshoes on an anvil is hard, dirty work. After my first week, my arms were so sore I could barely lift them over my head and my left thumb was the size and color of a plum. But, instead of quitting, I took my first pay voucher and settled that months grocery bill. After six weeks, I was arm wrestling my coworkers on the line and no longer hitting my thumb on a regular basis. As much.

However, I will admit to being bored with the assembly line nature of the work and bummed there was no outlet for creative expression. But what bothered me the most was that by the time I got home, I was normally too tired to focus on my art.

Then, two months into my job as a blacksmith, I was approached by Canterbury and offered a job as a strikeressentially working as his apprentice. I jumped at the opportunity, as he was not only a well-regarded Master Smith but also a ferromancer.

One of the biggest misconceptions humans have when it comes to magic is that its like water from a tap, with the only difference being whether its hot or cold. The truth is, there are as many different variants of magic as there are specialties in medicine. For example, weather witches summon storms; pyromancers control fire; necromancers work dark magic using the bodies of the dead; and ferromancers shape and control metal.

While centaurs normally are without magic, Canterbury was quite literally a horse of different color, courtesy of a Kymeran father. While he could be a bit of a taskmaster at times, we got along very well together and I had become quite fond of him. In many ways he reminded me of my old art instructor at Wellesley, Professor Stobaugh, who had been the first to suggest I focus on metalwork rather than on the more traditional clay and stone.

Unlike the other businesses along Horsecart Street, Canterbury Customs did not have a proper storefront. Instead, it was located in Fetlock Mews, a dead-end alleyway situated between Perdition Street and Shoemaker Lane. The mews was lined with two-story stables that served as both places of business and homes for various centaurian farriers, wainwrights, and saddlers. Although Chiron Livery churned out most of the horseshoes used by the centaur and ipotane communities, there was still plenty of commercial business for those who catered to Golgothams carriage trade.

As I walked onto the shop floor, I saw my boss and mentor inspecting the armature for the wings of the clockwork dragon that took up half the workspace. The scale-model saurian was scattered abouta head here, a leg there, another leg somewhere elselike a classic car undergoing restoration. But in this case we were trying to rebuild a model that had not been seen on the roador the skiesfor over a thousand years.

Canterbury wore a leather blacksmiths apron over his upper torso, as well as safety goggles, and kept his chartreuse mane short and tail bobbed for fear of flying sparks from his forge. Although he had the power to shape metal without the use of tools, he also utilized traditional fabrication methods as well, in order to conserve energy. After all, magic can be exhausting work, even for someone with the constitution of a horse.

Morning, boss. Heres that liniment you wanted, I said, tossing him the bottle. Hexe says to keep it off your Kymeran bits.

Understood, Canterbury replied, catching the package with a six-fingered hand. And dont forget to punch in.

I nodded my understanding and plucked my card from its slot on the out board of the antique time clock hanging on the wall and slipped it inside the slot in its face, accompanied by a loud clunk, then dutifully placed it in a slot on the in side of the board. It seemed a lot of trouble for a single employee, but Canterbury was a stickler for punctuality.

Do you think well make the deadline for the museum? I asked as I opened my work locker and removed my safety gear.

Theres no thinkingI know well make deadline, he replied. We have to. I promised the Curator it would be ready in time for the Jubilee. Ive got a lot riding on this piece.

What part of it are we working on today?

The right foreleg, he replied, picking up the bar of steel sitting on the workbench in front of him as if it weighed no more than a two-by-four.

I watched in mute admiration as Canterbury stroked the metal as if it were a kitten, causing it to instantly soften beneath his touch. He then reworked it, like a potter at his wheel, with nothing more than his hands, teasing it into a new shape. Within minutes what had once been a simple steel bar was now the shin bone of a dragon.

Canterbury stepped aside, so I could pick up the piece with a pair of tongs and quench it in the nearby water bath. Although he had used his bare hands to shape the steel, the finished piece was as hot as if it had just been pulled from the heat of a forge. There was a mighty hiss and a plume of steam arose from the converted horse trough, as if the dragon we were assembling piecemeal was trying to communicate with us.

Once the tibia was properly tempered, I would then fit it into the articulated knee joint and weld it into place. After that we would construct the ankle and move on to the foot. In many ways, what I was doing with Canterbury was no different from what I had done creating my action figures, save that instead of scrounging salvage yards for found metal, I was working with a living machine shop who could literally fabricate any necessary part by hand.

What about the skin for this thing? I asked, as I pulled on my welding gloves. It doesnt seem right to send him out into the world with all his cogs and gears hanging out.

I asked the Curator about that. She said the museum would be providing an actual shed.

I wasnt surprised that they had a dragon skin that had lasted so long. Hexes mother had a suit of armor made from the same thing standing in her foyer. That shits hardcore. We continued to labor over the clockwork dragon for the rest of the morning, until Canterbury signaled it was time for lunch.

As I retrieved my lunch pail from my locker, a tall, good-looking man with blond hair entered the workshop unannounced. He was dressed in a full-length mink pimp-coat, an open-necked velour shirt, and a pair of extremely tight pants cinched by a thick, buff-colored suede belt. It wasnt until the belt unknotted itself from about his waist and dropped to the floor, switching back and forth like the tail of a cat, that I recognized the visitor as Bjorn Cowpen, the leader of Golgothams huldrefolk, a council member of the GoBOO, and owner of several adult entertainment establishments located on Duivel Street.

Good afternoon, Councilman, Canterbury said, bobbing his head in ritual greeting. To what do I owe the honor?

Im in the market for a new carriage, Master Canterbury. Something suitably upscale, of course. Chiron tells me youre the best in Golgotham.

Lord Chiron is most kind, the centaur replied, but not inaccurate. There is nothing my apprentice and I can not fabricate.

The huldu turned to look at me as I sat at my workbench eating my lunch. You have a female apprentice? he asked, raising a dubious eyebrow. And human, at that?

My cheeks flushed as I bit into the sandwich, vigorously chewing in order to keep myself from saying something that might cost Canterbury Customs a sale.

I assure you, Councilman, she is most adept, despite such shortcomings, Canterbury replied smoothly. Come; let us retire to my office. Perhaps you can elaborate on exactly what it is youre looking for? That will help me when I crunch the numbers for your quote. He then led Cowpen up the ramp that led to the second floor, which served as both his office and living space. When they came back down, a half hour later, I could tell by the way their tails were twitching that theyd struck a deal.

Not to worry, Councilman, Canterbury assured him. Your new carriage will be everything you desire, and more! Upon closing the shop doors, the centaur sneezed violently, sending a shudder from the nape of his neck to his flanks. Blood of Nessus! As much money as that huldu has, youd think he could afford better cologne!

At least he was willing to overlook your hiring practices, I said sarcastically, pushing back the visor of my welding helmet.

Dont take what I said about your shortcomings seriously, my dear. And dont let what he said bother you. Bjorn Cowpen may be able to buy and sell me five times over, but hes far from the sharpest tool in the shed.

Oh, hes a tool all right, I agreed.

Well, if its any consolation, he was more put off by you being a woman than a human. Im afraid he doesnt see much use for females of any kind outside of his clubs.

Great. Hes a bigot and a sexist.

When I first started out, I ran into a great deal of bigotry, as you might expect, Canterbury said, favoring me with a sad, wise smile. After all, I am most certainly not Kymeran, but neither am I a true centaur. The herd tolerates me, but theyve never fully trusted me. I was bullied a great deal as a colt. Although my father was never able to publicly acknowledge me, he did take responsibility for training me in the magical arts. Master your craft, and the fools will beat a path to your door, he used to tell me. In time, the quality of my work made the ones who used to look down on me forget their prejudicesor at least rein them in while in my presence. You neednt worry about the likes of Bjorn, my dear, he said as he patted me on the shoulder. Your talent will make them honor you, whether they like it or not.

* * *

It was past six in the evening by the time I finally punched out. I waved farewell to Canterbury, who wished me a good night and made sure to remind me, as always, that he expected me in bright and early the very next day.

Although Horsecart Street was largely the domain of the centaurs and their cousins, the horse-legged ipotanes, virtually every major paranormal ethnic group can be found hurrying in and out of its various storefronts. A pair of leprechauns, dressed in green designer clothes, stood on the street corner, handing out fliers for Seamus OFaes political campaign.

Seamus, leader of the Wee Folk Anti-Defamation League, had recently announced his candidacy for mayor of Golgotham. It was the first time in the pocket city-states history that anyone besides a Kymeran had dared throw their hat into the ring. The incumbent, Mayor Lash, had every reason to sweat. His opponent was a well-spoken, politically savvy lawyer who, despite his diminutive sizeor, perhaps, because of itwas as tenacious as a terrier.

Best of the evenin to ye, Miss Eresby, one of the leprechauns said as he slipped a leaflet into my hand.

Same to you, Tullamore. How long before you finish probation? I asked, motioning to the tiny monitoring bracelet strapped to his right ankle.

I got another tree months to go, he replied solemnly. Then Im as free as a bird! Im thankful for Mr. OFae pleadin me charges down from Felony Enchantment to Mischief-Makin and keepin me out of lock-up. The Tombs is a miserable place for us Wee Folk.

Well, Seamus has my support, for what its worth, I said. And try not to turn anyone into a pig again, no matter how much they might deserve it!

That I will, maam.

As I crossed to the other side of the street, I was suddenly aware that I was being watched. This, in and of itself, was not a new or unexpected sensation for me. As the human consort of the Heir Apparent, I was routinely gawked and glared at whenever I went out in public. But what I was feeling was decidedly more predatory than usual. The last time the hair on the back of my neck stood up like that, I found a demon staring in my window.

I abruptly spun on my heels, hoping to surprise whoever it was tailing me, and saw a Kymeran woman with slate blue hair dart into a doorway. When she didnt reemerge, I shrugged and continued my walk home. I let the incident go and quickly put the woman out of my mind. After all, if I fixated on everything odd in Golgotham, Id never get anything done.

Chapter 2

I arrived home that evening to find fellow artist, human, and recent citizen of Golgotham Bartho Bartholomew conferring with Hexe. They were drinking spiced chai and staring at a collection of cameras, both digital and old-school 35mm, which were sitting on the middle of the kitchen table like a paparazzi centerpiece.

Where have you been keeping yourself? I grinned as the photographer rose to hug me. I havent seen you since the morning after the riot!

Sorry Ive been out of touch. Ive been on the road with Talisman. Im their official photographer, now, he explained.

Well, Im glad to see your eye no longer looks like an eggplant.

You and me both! he said with a humorless laugh. Im bringing a police brutality suit against the city, by the way. Im not going to let those pigs get away with smashing my camera and trying to blind me! Seamus OFae is representing me, along with anyone else who got roughed up that night.

Seamus is going up against City Hall? I gave a low whistle of admiration. Now that is going to be one hell of a courtroom battle! But whats with the cameras?

I think someones put a curse on them, Bartho sighed. The last couple of weeks Ive been getting these crazy double exposures, even when Im using the digital cameras. They were blurry at first, but now theyre becoming more and more distinct.

Who would want to curse your cameras? I frowned.

I dont know. Maybe someone jealous of the attention Im getting? Or maybe the asshole cop Im suing? Thats usually who pays to have curses put on people, isnt it, Hexejealous bastards and assholes?

That has certainly been my experience, Hexe admitted as he turned one of the cameras over in his hands. But, to be honest, Im not so sure thats what is going on here. Usually curses have some sort of occult signature, if you know where to lookkind of like a poker players tell. But Im not seeing anything like that. Are you sure it isnt a manufacturing defect of some kind?

Ive taken them to two certified repair shopsone here, and the other in London, when I was on the road. Each swears up and down theres nothing wrong with them. Besides, how could a manufacturing defect replicate itself identically in cameras made by three completely different companies?

Youre right; that doesnt sound natural, Hexe conceded, his brow knitting even further. Perhaps an individual component was cursed, instead of the entire mechanism? That would make it a lot harder to detect, he mused aloud. Ill run a series of scrying stones over these so I can get a better idea of what Im dealing with. I should be able to ascertain whats up within the next day or so.

Youre a lifesaver, Hexe. Bartho grinned. Holy crapis that the time? Sorry I cant hang around and chat, Tate, but Ive got to go over depositions with Seamus.

As Hexe escorted Bartho to the front door, I headed upstairs to change out of my work clothes and take a shower. Twenty minutes later I returned to find Hexe sitting at the desk in his study, balancing the checkbook. I bent over and nuzzled his neck, savoring his unique scent of citrus, moss, and leather as I did so.

So how was your day at work? he asked, reaching up with one hand to stroke my hair.

I made a dragon leg, I replied. You knowsame-old-same-old.

Is that so? He chuckled as I sat down in his lap.

And how was your day? I asked between kisses.

Fairly. Smooch. Uneventful. Smack. I lifted a minor curse off a client. Smooch. Someone afflicted him with crossed eyes. Double smooch.

I glanced down at the open checkbook and the stack of bills that sat beside it. Sohow are we doing?

Hexe heaved a sigh, prodding the calculator as if it were a poisonous toad. Well, between your day job, the rent from the boarders, and what I bring in from my steadier clients, were making ends meet. But just barely.

Why cant we use witchfire to light the house like they do at the Rookery? I asked as I scowled at the most recent ConEd bill.

Witchfire might not be metered, but its not free, he replied. Sorcerers can drain themselves pretty quickly, if theyre not careful. The braziers at the Rookery are communal fireseach Kymeran who rents a booth there contributes a flame to the kitty. Thats why they burn as brightly as they do. The GoBOO allowed gas lines and electricity into Golgotham because it frees up occult energy that normally would go toward public utilities. Of course, there are those who claim that dependence on human inventions weakens us far more than lighting our homes with witchfire.

So much for snapping your fingers and magically making the rent and keeping the lights on, I sighed.

Hey, Im just a wizard, not a miracle worker, Hexe said with a wry smile. ConEd has no more qualms about shutting off a past-due warlock than they do a plumber in Queens.

Is this a good time to talk, or would you guys rather be alone right now?

I looked up to see our housemate and friend, Lukas, standing in the doorway of the study. The young shape-shifter had been living at the boardinghouse ever since he ended up in the backyard after escaping from Boss Marzs fighting pit, months ago. Despite the fact he was a boarder, I was actually surprised to see him, as he now spent most of his time working at Dr. Maos apothecary and acupuncture parlor. Of course, the fact Lukas girlfriend, Meikei, was also the bosss daughter might have had something to do with that.

Youre not interrupting anythingyet, Hexe replied. Whats on your mind, Lukas?

The young were-cat frowned and lowered his gaze to his scuffed Vans. I owe you guys everything, he said uneasily as he scratched at his sandy hair. I mean, if it werent for you, Id either be pit-fighting or dead right now. You know I consider you guys more my family than the one I was born to. . . .

Hexe quietly motioned for me to get out of his lap. Lukaswhat are you trying to say? He frowned.

The young bastets cheeks turned even redder. IIm moving out.

What? I yelped. Youre not going back home, are you?

Lukas shook his head. Of course not! he said emphatically. Im not going back to the Preserve. Its just thatwell, Dr. Mao has offered to make me his apprentice, and that means moving into the spare store room at the apothecary.