The Murder Prophet Page 4

  "You a Mancer?" she asked, tilting her head to one side as she appraised me with clear hazel eyes.

  I nodded. "Psych line, level three. I can tell when someone's lying."

  She chuckled. "That might be handy."

  "Sometimes." I shrugged. "Sometimes it sucks."

  "Yeah, I can imagine."

  My arrival obviously hadn't nudged her into any more of a hurry, so I got up and fixed myself a coffee, too. The caffeine would help banish the Maginox® drowsiness for a while. When I sat back down, she had the good grace to take her feet off the table, and leaned forward with her elbows in their place.

  "When I was in Ireland," she said slowly, wrapping her hands around her mug as if they were cold, "I worked for a little while in a pub called The Chant and Cup. The tips were pretty good, and the owner wasn't much of a jerk. In fact, at first I didn't think he was a jerk at all. Of course I didn't tell him I was a Transmute; after all, that's what I was running away from, right?"

  I nodded. If she wanted to talk, I felt I owed her the courtesy of listening.

  "I didn't think he had any magic, this guy, or if he did he never talked about it. One day he was talking about how he'd love to have an apple. A crisp, fall apple like the ones he used to pick straight from his grandfather's backyard apple tree in Hazlemere. He went on about those apples all day, described them perfectly. When he went home for supper I took some of the leftovers from the grill and made him an apple. I made it exactly like the one he'd described. Exactly, you know?"

  I thought I could see where this was going, and I felt sorry for her. Really. I mean, it was a stupid thing to do, but she was eighteen, right? Who doesn't make a fool of themselves for love when they're eighteen, even if it's by way of something as simple as an apple?

  "When he came back I gave it to him." She sipped her coffee again. "He thought I'd run to the grocer's and bought him an apple, but when he bit into it—he just looked at me. He knew. He absolutely knew I must have transmuted it."

  I felt I had to say something. "And he fired you?"

  "No," she said, shaking her head. "He asked me to marry him."

  I thought about it for a minute. "But he wasn't all that interested in you before that, right?"

  "Exactly."

  "So you figured if you were going to be with someone who only wanted you for your magic, you might as well be getting paid for it?"

  She smiled, a real smile this time. "I thought you might understand."

  "Are you ready to go now?"

  "Just give me fifteen minutes to get dressed and get my things together. This is a pretty nice place, you know."

  "You'll be able to afford a place a lot nicer than this with your new job," I said.

  She looked around, considering. "I guess so. I just wonder what it will cost me."

  And we both knew she wasn't talking about the money.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Nana Nina

  It all went swimmingly when I took Idala to see the suits and get her contract signed all nice and tidy and legal. We didn't talk any more about serious stuff after she went to get dressed. When she came back downstairs I'd finished the coffee and cleaned out the pot, given the place a once-over and checked all the door locks. She'd changed into black jeans and a mock transform turtleneck in green paisley, had her hair slicked back in a ponytail and looked like a perfectly normal teenager. Talked like one, too, all the way downtown, music and movies and what Ireland had been like, and I let her. This was going to be the new normal, so we might as well start letting it happen.

  The meeting went smoothly, the contract was fine, and I signed the invoice before I left. She gave me a little wave in farewell. I wished I didn't feel like I was selling her out. I wished I had talked to her more about how hard it is to decide what to do with your life, and how it's okay sometimes to make mistakes in those decisions. But she didn't ask, and it wasn't part of my job.

  It was late afternoon when I left her, and I felt unsettled. The prospect of going back to the office for half an hour didn't appeal. I stood indecisively on the corner of the street and pondered my options. All around, people were already hurrying home to their after-work lives, picking up kids, cooking dinner, making plans for the evening. The sun flared in my eyes for a last moment as it started the slide behind the building across the street from me, and as soon as it was gone, the air chilled and shadows sprang to life.

  I really didn't feel like going back to the office—by the time I got there, it was likely everyone else would be gone. And I was in no real hurry to get home. The meetup with LemurCandy could happen anytime during the evening, as long as he was online, and I have to say I'd hardly ever gone looking for him that he wasn't online somewhere. That was one of the reasons I really hadn't believed he could look anything like that avatar, but I kept telling myself it was entirely possible that he had a whole home gym right there in his computer hideaway, and worked out regularly from a vantage point where he could still see the screen. In real life, he'd be as fit as his various avs.

  Yeah, right.

  Anyway, I didn't have to get home and get in touch with him right now. All things considered, I decided that it would be a good time to go and visit my grandmother.

  ***

  Seemed like every time I ended up at Nana Nina's apartment, she knew exactly what brought me there. I'd asked her before if she had Seer magic, but she always laughed it off.

  "I just know my girl," she'd say. And, I mean, we're talking about my grandmother. I wasn't going to use my lie-detecting magic on her. I knew that she was a registered Mancer, but not in the Seer lines, so it could have been true—or she could have just been holding back, on the government as well as on me. And since the state had to just let it slide, I did the same.

  Anyway, I pulled out my cell and called Nana Nina to let her know I was coming, and fifteen minutes later I knocked on the door of her apartment. I've got a key to get into the building, and it works on her door, too, but that's only in case of an emergency. I'd never think of just barging in.

  When she opened the door the fragrance of freshly-brewed coffee greeted me as warmly as she did. She looked as spry as ever, blue eyes twinkling as she gave me a hug, and stepped back to let me in to her open, airy space. Late afternoon sunlight laid bright tiles on the floor, broken only by the silhouette of her easel set near the bank of windows. She'd divided the loft-style space into furniture-defined 'rooms,' and the only walls surrounded a tiny bathroom. Now that I was inside, the aroma of tacos hit me, too, and I saw that all the fixings waited for us on the dining room table. She'd managed all that in the few minutes since I'd called her? I don't know how she does it at her age, but then, if anyone was going to surprise me, it would likely be Nana Nina.

  She'd been born Nina Morow eighty-six years earlier, and although she'd married, she hadn't changed her name. She'd had about a dozen careers, from nursing to construction to art, and as I understand it, she dove headfirst into the fray when computers came to the forefront, blogging from day one and writing open source code. Now she did what she wanted, but what she most liked to do was keep busy. She worked out regularly, wore her hair in a chic layered cut, and painted colorful abstracts for a local gallery.

  She motioned me over toward the table, which she'd also managed to set with a hand-embroidered tablecloth and colorful stoneware plates and mugs. As she fetched a fragrant covered pan from the stove, she said "Kit, you know I'm always so glad to see you. But when I do, it usually means you're down in the dumps, so that kind of takes the fun out of it, you know?"

  She gave me a grin to let me know she didn't really mean it and set the pan on the table. The seasoned meat still sizzled inside. "We'll eat up, first," she instructed, "and then we'll chat about what's bothering you over the coffee."

  "Nothing's bothering me," I lied quickly.

  "Sure," she said, "Just an old lady's imagination. Eat a taco, dear."

  I grinned, already feeling better as I spooned salsa, shredded ched
dar, lettuce and sour cream onto my first taco and wrapped it in a soft, warm tortilla. She was a hard lady to feel glum around. Which I suppose really was the reason I was here.

  "How's work?" she asked, as she poured tall glasses of iced green tea for us and started building a taco for herself.

  I raised my eyebrows and shrugged. "Interesting lately. We're looking into this whole Murder Prophet business. Or we're about to start."

  She frowned and shook her head. "Something weird about that whole thing, Kit. I don't get the motive."

  "Neither do I. Neither does anyone, as far as I know. That's what's going to make it difficult."

  "How's that young man...the one with the strange name? FerretSnacks?"

  I almost snorted green tea through my nose. "LemurCandy!"

  Nana Nina beamed. "That's him! Is he helping you with this case?"

  "I'm going to contact him when I go home."

  She nodded knowingly. I shook my head. Nana Nina had run into us one night when we were meeting in one of the meat virtuals for cover. I didn't recognize her. Her avatar looked about twenty-four, slim, with long, dramatic red hair and a drink in one hand. She recognized me, though, (like I said, I'm usually not at pains to conceal my identity online) and came over to say hello.

  Shocked as I was to meet my grandmother in a place like that, looking like she did, (and not daring to ask—or really wanting to know—what she was doing there) I had the presence of mind to introduce her to Lemur and we made small talk for a few minutes. She took a shine to him, and ever since then she always asks about him. I thought back. He hadn't been using the Coro avatar that night, but a different one.

  "He seemed like a nice young man, Kit. You still haven't met him in real life?"

  I gave her a look. "I'm perfectly happy the way things are, Nana."

  She gave me a look right back. "Oh, not perfectly, dear. Don't try to fool an old woman, because you're the one who ends up looking like a fool."

  I laughed. "All right, then. Not perfectly happy. I still have to listen to that goose playing video games all the time."

  She laughed, too. "And put up with all your other co-workers' annoying little ways."

  "And have trouble finding the perfect pair of jeans."

  "And have to clean the toilet from time to time."

  "And listen to ads on the vids."

  We were both giggling by this time, but Nana sobered first. "Is that really all, honey? I know something deeper's bothering you. I could see it in your eyes when you first got here."

  "Are you sure you haven't developed some kind of Seer magic?" I kidded her, but my heart wasn't in it.

  "Quite sure," she declared. "I'm much too old to be developing any new magic. But grandmothers have a special kind of insight when it comes to their children and grandchildren. Better than magic." She reached across the table and patted my hand briefly.

  I sighed and finished off the green tea, leaning back in my chair and savoring the dregs of honey that had pooled at the bottom. "I guess that's it...the magic. I know most people think it was the best thing that ever happened, but a lot of the time I'm still not so sure."

  She nodded. "Let's get that coffee and take it into the living room," she suggested. "These chairs aren't the most comfortable thing under my old bones."

  Nana Nina was exaggerating; she was practically in better shape than I was—would be in better shape quickly if I quit running, I thought—but I agreed and she pulled two steaming mugs of coffee from the perc and brought them into the area of the loft she called the living room. Somehow a plate of carob-chip cookies materialized on the coffee table. I settled myself in the big saffron-colored armchair and she sat on the bright red couch across from me. Nana Nina likes color, and being in her apartment is like walking into an Impressionist painting.

  She put her slipper-shod feet daintily up on the coffee table. "Now, what's got you thinking about magic today?" she asked.

  I thought of Idala Kineall, so cynical already at only eighteen. "I had to take a runaway Transmute in to sign contracts," I said.

  "She went willingly, of course."

  "Yes, she did. But...did she have any other real choice? That's what bothers me."

  Nana nodded. "You don't remember much about the days before magic, do you?"

  "No, I don't."

  "You were only ten when the meteorite hit." She closed her eyes and thought for a moment. "It changed everything. And then again, it changed nothing."

  I frowned. "What do you mean?"

  "It changed everything because the human race was altered in a fundamental way, and a lot of things about the way we perceive ourselves changed. Magic cut across every racial and tribal and societal line we'd ever used to define and separate ourselves. It affected almost everyone in the world, and the handful it didn't affect had nothing in common that anyone could point to and say, 'that's why they're different.' So the ideas of race and of racism changed.

  "But what they turned into was just another way to separate and define and catalogue us. Even plug us into a new kind of hierarchy. Psychs and Seers, Shielders and Transmutes and Talents and Mundanes, and levels of ability in each. Now we're more defined by magic than by color, but we're still labelled. And magic has its own costs, which limit our ability to use it, so it couldn't fix everything. There used to be poverty. There's still poverty. There used to be homelessness. There's still homelessness. There used to be crime. There's still crime."

  She took a long pull of her coffee. "The thing is, I think it's in our nature to be dissatisfied. We either don't like what we have, or we want what someone else has. No one ever gets exactly what they want, so no matter what the human race has or does, the underlying problems are still there. So that's why I say that everything changed, and nothing changed."

  "But at least now we have some control over how we get defined," I protested. "If I don't want to be labelled as—I don't know, as a Seer, then I can just deny that I have that power. It's pretty hard to prove me wrong."

  Nana shook her head. "But what kind of choice is that? The choice to live a lie? I don't see how that makes you any more free. And you have to live with denying something intrinsic to who you are."

  I sighed. "No, I suppose you're right." I looked up to find her staring at me intently. "What?"

  "Oh, nothing, dear. Do you think the girl made the right choice?"

  "The girl?" For a second I couldn't think who she was talking about. "Oh, the Transmute. I guess so. I don't really know. I guess I wished she could have made it for different reasons."

  "Well, we all have our own reasons for the choices we make, Kit," Nana said. "I think in the end it doesn't matter if anyone else understands why we make them, as long as we understand ourselves."

  I looked at her hard for a moment. Was she trying to tell me something that she didn't want to come right out and say? But she looked totally innocent, sitting there with her coffee and her trendily-cut white hair and an EZ-med implant in her left arm, half-smiling indulgently at me.

  Grandmothers are masters of deception, and don't let anyone tell you different.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A Little Taste of LemurCandy

  It was after dark by the time I left Nana Nina's apartment, and I caught a magicab back home. They're expensive, and I don't like the way they make me feel—kind of fuzzy-headed, afterward—so I don't use them often. I also don't know why they're called magicabs when they aren't any kind of a vehicle, just a little booth with a teleportation spell inside it. Nana Nina had managed to cheer me up some, but I still felt like I had to keep busy to keep the dark thoughts at bay.

  My apartment seemed dull and empty after spending time in Nana Nina's colorful space. Don't get me wrong, I like my place. I always feel, however, that it's more like the "before" picture than the "after" in an apartment makeover. The furniture is comfortable rather than stylish—I think Nana Nina actually used the word "utilitarian" once, and she was trying to be kind. Maybe I should invite her to
turn it into an "after" picture for me some time. But that time wasn't now, so I turned on all the lights, then turned my back on it and sat down at my computer.

  "How was your day, Kit?" Phoebe asked me.

  "Great."

  "You have no personal messages," she told me cheerfully.

  "Gee, thanks," I muttered.

  "Current energy use is unwarranted," Phoebe continued. "Shall I reduce ambient lighting to optimal levels?"

  I sighed. "Sure."

  The lights dimmed, but now it seemed darker than ever after I'd had them so bright. I decided it wasn't worth fighting with Phoebe over and logged in to my accounts.

  The apartment AI wasn't through, however. "Foodstuffs on hand are low. Shall I compile a grocery list?"

  I looked up, although since Phoebe was only a disembodied voice, there wasn't anything specific to glare at. "Yes, and please shut up now! I have work to do and unless there's something urgent, I'd like some quiet."

  I don't know how an apartment AI voice can give the impression of offended silence, but Phoebe can. I massaged my temples in tiny circles while I counted to twenty, and went in virtual search of LemurCandy.

  It didn't take long; he'd left signposting so I could track him down. That made my heart flutter a little although I reminded myself sternly that we were working a case together, so it only made sense to make it easy to find him. He was in another of the mind virtuals, Consider the Implications, one of his favorite haunts. This one styled itself to look like a university faculty lounge, with burgundy tufted-leather armchairs, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, high windows and chandeliers. Here the discussion usually turned to politics, which was fine for a time but I couldn't take a whole lot of exposure to the chatter. They had a bar, and that's where I found LemurCandy, talking to a grey-haired avatar who looked a lot like those posters of Albert Einstein. You know, the ones with the really wild hair and eyes balanced on the tightrope between genius and crazy. The guy nodded a hybrid greeting/farewell and walked off as I came up.