Chapter 15
Fixer [ fik -ser ] noun
The hereditary line of Talents able to freeze objects in a set position. Denoted by a bronze halo around their irises, these Talents are best suited to the fields of infrastructure and the preservation of goods.
– Excerpt from A Treatise on Talents , Third Edition
“No Talent shall engage in offensive use of their ability unless specifically contracted to do so. Transgressors shall be referred to their Patrons for risk analysis, and mitigation measures effected. (ref. Sec. 4) A compounding fine of no less then 100k units shall be levied for the first offense…”
– Section 18, Clause 3.r, A Talent’s Contractual
Obligation to the Source .
Flynn glanced from the interway to Kara, setting a heavier cloak on her. To anyone else, she’d have completely disappeared. He retained a sense of her, but it was a kind like what the vectors picked up, a void where she slept, head lolling and slack-jawed. It was ridiculously endearing. He pushed against on the steering wheel, trying to straighten out his back. This goddamned car on the other hand, was not. It had to be a compact. Christ, this was already a miserable drive.
But it could be worse.
She was done not pushing him on things, and he had no fucking clue how the hell he was gonna explain all the shit at the Pinion. Christ, she’d seen him lose it. Grimacing, he took the exit north toward Ryfsbane. Maybe she’d sleep all the way up.
He snorted, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. That blinding burst of panic from her had been what’d done it. Part of it anyway. Damn, he missed hitting people. He kept chewing on his lip, wishing he could contort himself enough to grab one of those io-bars in the back.
That rage inside him, it’d been different this time, directed. It used to be a wholesale massacre. He wasn’t gonna kid himself that he could control it, but at least this time it hadn’t felt like he was just watching himself on a rampage. No one had died, immediately at least. Well, maybe that guy at the door, but the asshole had shot him. He hated that shit.
Flynn threw his beanie up on the dash and mussed his hair, smacking his knuckles against the car’s ceiling. Annoying piece of… regardless, he was on a slippery goddamned slope. He’d promised. Sighing, he looked heavenwards, feeling the flames. So much for his promises.
Fuck. The last time he’d heard that goddamn voice?—
His mind shied, and he hit the gas, accelerating past the only other vehicle in sight. At least the interway was clear. The mountain transports from the mines must’ve burnt the worst of the weather off this stretch. He needed to get Kara north and have done with all this shit. No one had ever wanted to kill him in Glynfyls—Christ, that was a damn lie. Cal had just paid them off.
He glanced over at the seat where she was cloaked. That panic he’d felt from her… Flynn grit his teeth. He was gonna rip that sick fuck’s arms off and beat him with them. The irony of that statement wasn’t lost on him, but goddamn. Made sense why she fell to shit at odd mo ments. Between that and her halos…he went to run a hand through his hair, then glowered up at the roof. It was no wonder it felt like she was hiding something.
He’d know all about that, now wouldn’t he? Christ. Pot, meet kettle. Still, she hadn’t run screaming, and what he’d felt from her afterwards… Flynn flipped on the headlights and failed to find a more comfortable position. Fucking clown car.
The terrain was more rugged than it’d been back at the Pinion. Large outcroppings of rocks and fir trees dominated the landscape. The snow peaked and swirled around their bases, wind moaning like a living thing. Every so often, a gust pushed the car hard enough for him to compensate. Otherwise, the drive was boring as shit. His mind kept circling back to Kara.
She’d called him love.
There was no way. It had to be the bond. He sighed, dragging a heavy hand across his jaw. Yeah. That made?—
“Are you alright?”
Flynn jumped, so busy feeling sorry for himself, he hadn’t even felt her wake up. She laughed at him, and he smiled hearing it. “Don’t do that, you’re cloaked.”
“So you can’t see me flashing you?”
His troubled thoughts evaporated with that visual. “You trying to get us in an accident?”
“Fine, then tell me about Julia.”
And his troubles were back. Christ, that hadn’t taken long. He opened and closed his mouth half a dozen times.
“You look like a goldfish. Spill it.”
“It’s, ah, complicated.” It wasn’t, but his feelings on the subject were, and there wasn’t any way to explain it without making himself sound like a complete asshole, which he was, but fuck, he didn’t want her to know that.
“Liar.”
He glared in her direction, fidgeting in his seat. This fucking car. “We grew up together.” He paused, feeling her irritation grow.
She smacked him, and he laughed. “Come on! I’m sure my imagination’s worse than the truth. ”
He doubted it. Christ, her emotions were a mess. So were his. Fuck. “Julia’s a Fixer. We dated. My House wasn’t happy about it. I didn’t take it very seriously, she did. After my mom died, I did some things…a lot of things, I regret. One of them, ah, hurt her. Not like hurt, hurt just—look, I left right after and haven’t been back since.” God, please let her be satisfied with that…
“Dated. Is that sex in the North?”
He opened and closed his mouth again. How the hell did you explain— “No, it’s…you do stuff with them, and yeah, there’s sometimes sex, but it’s monogamous…” Flynn colored. He’d never been real great with that…at all…ever… Goddamn, he didn’t want to talk about this.
“Then she’s my rival. Is she my equal?”
He sat up a little straighter, not liking what he was feeling from her. “In talent? No, not even close, Julia can barely fix a leak. But up north it’s not like the Source, and trust me, it’s over.” Damn, he wished he could see Kara’s face. The iciness he was getting from her was fucking scary.
“Does she know that?”
His stomach dropped. “Yeah.” Her and the entire goddamned territory.
Kara got real quiet, and Flynn felt something besides his ex bothering her. That iciness was gone, and the insecurity was creeping back in. It killed him feeling it from her. Christ, he was a dick. He should just tell her everything and have done. The thought made him wanna puke. She might be cool with his kink, but what he’d done with it before meeting her…
Yeah. No fucking way.
The moonlit landscape had rendered out into shades of grey. They were heading up the side of the mountain and hadn’t gotten to the switchbacks yet. Pushing back on the steering wheel, he tried to stretch out his shoulders.
“Flynn, are there Binders up north? Between the questions and the bindings I did for Graham, it’s like none of you have any idea what we can actually do.”
“The Source has most of your line. The ones up north don’t come close to what I’ve seen you do.” He reached out, his anxiety building until she took his hand, playing with his fingers.
“Is it dumb that I’m afraid? I know it’s stupid, but I just want to go home. I mean, not like back to the Source, but… You’ve been hinting that there’s a completely different world up there. How am I going to fit in? Where am I going to live? Everything’s so… I-I don’t know who I am out here…”
Christ, her anxiety was going full tilt, and the sentiment that went with that broke his heart. Flynn could relate. He wanted to go home, too. What was waiting for him up north wasn’t it, and the one he’d cobbled together Outside had probably been razed. That fucking hurt. He kissed her knuckles.
“You can be whoever you want to be. We’ll get a flat in the city, and everything else? Shit, Kara, we’ll make it work. Until we find something, we’ll stay at the farm. You’ll have time to get your feet under you.”
And he’d have time to grow enough of a pair to spill what he was dragging her into. Fuck. She was his wife. What was being Lady Scot gonna be like for her? She’d probably hate it as much as he hated being a lord.
He snorted. Not possible.
It was snowing again. Flynn took his fingers from hers, needing both hands on the wheel. The road had gotten twisty and steep. A transport passed them on the left, and he changed lanes to take advantage of the cleared road.
“Don’t take this as a criticism of your driving, but I feel like I’m going to be sick.”
He frowned, concentrating. Damn, he hated heights. “That bag Graham packed is in the back, there’s probably something you can barf in. I’d rather not stop.”
Kara hefted it up front and rummaged around, setting a hunk of wire-wrapped metal aside. You gotta be ? —
“Throw that fucking thing out the window.”
“What is it?”
Seven to ten in Kensbot. “Trouble we don’t—no, you know what, shove it right back in where you found it.” His halos flared brighter. Leo wanted that plaz-converter so bad, there had to be a reason, and he was gonna make sure the asshole never found it. It went back in the bag, and a squished io-bar replaced it. Way she was holding it, the damned thing looked like it was floating.
“Must be your lucky day,” she said with that laugh of hers, feeding it to him.
“Nope, that was when I picked you up.” He smiled as he chewed, feeling how happy that made her. Shit, him too. “Mmm. I haven’t had a red one in a while.”
“They’re all disgusting, but I suppose those’re the least offensive. How do you get Breaker field rations Outside?”
“Squads trade them for contraband.” He felt her questions but wasn’t gonna elaborate. “So, up in the loft, damn, woman, that was hot.”
“Then why do you feel so guilty about it?”
Motherf—“I don’t, I mean, I did, but it’s—I just can’t believe you’re into that shit, too.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Ah, women up north don’t go for that kind of stuff.” Flynn tried to run a hand through his hair and smacked the roof again. Christ, that was fucking annoying. He gripped the wheel tighter; it was getting foggy.
She laughed. “Are you serious?”
“It’s not the most open-minded place.” That was a fucking understatement. Missionary without a hole through a sheet was as crazy as it got, and most people were convinced they were gonna burn in hell for any deviation. Even oral was a cardinal sin thanks to that fucking prick on the pulpit at St. Michael’s. Not open-minded? Puritanical would be more accurate.
“You do know how most Source Talents spend their time…?”
His mouth made a sour line. “They whore you out, one way or another.”
“If you’re pure stock. I was assigned to the infirmary, but I’ve seen more than I care to admit. Some of the fêtes they’ve thrown… I stayed in the tower as much as possible.”
Her emotions were oddly flat. It was weird considering what he’d been feeling from her. The rumors about the Source’s depravity were prolific and looking the way she did… He could feel her blushing again. Damn, that was adorable. He scratched at his stubble, oddly pleased that she hadn’t been rented out to every asshole with two units to rub together…but what was she going to think when she found out about his shit? No way his reputation wasn’t up there waiting for him, and with her on his arm—His anxiety was feeding hers, and he cloaked his emotions, not wanting to get into that, either.
They were high enough now that the road was covered by a thick murk. The car slowed to a crawl, and they crept along in an eerie, claustrophobic silence.
“When we were back at the bar?—”
“I told you, Kara. Bad things happen when I lose my temper.” He grimaced, not meaning to snap at her, but the road just dropped off not three fucking feet from her door. Goddamn, he hated heights.
“Is that how you got all those scars?”
His stomach flipped at the question, and he locked his emotions down tight. She left it alone.
It was a good hour before they were through the fog, and the switchbacks ended soon after that. The road smoothed out, and they drove down into a wide valley ringed by jagged peaks. In the distance, a silvery slice glimmered through the trees.
“It’s farther away than it looks. We’ll reach the southern shore by dawn.” He eyed the darkness building behind the mountains. Beating that storm was gonna be tight. Flynn fished out another io-bar and tossed the wrapper over his shoulder. “Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll wake you when we get to the lake.”
“When we reach the border, we’re in the north?”
“Not really, but we’ll be out of the territory controlled by the Source. I mean, technically, yeah, it’s the North, unless you’re from the North.” He smiled feeling her frustration at his answer.
The road cut through a dense forest of evergreens, blocking out the sky. Only a small strip of star-punctuated darkness threaded between them, centered above the road. Kara fell asleep, and he wished he could do the same.
Almost home .
Shit. It hadn’t been home for eight years, and hadn’t felt like it for a lot longer. He knew exactly what Kara was talking about and was just as scared.
Walking into the unknown had been easier.
By sunrise, the trees thinned, exposing rocky outcroppings spiking around the lake shore. The sun was fighting a losing battle against the clouds, and whitecaps licked the base of the causeway.
“Damn, this is sketchy,” he muttered, pulling up the ramp. The narrow, shitty bridge reminded him of one of those marble runs from when he was a kid. In the distance, he could just make out the transport that’d passed them.
Its thrusters hadn’t done them any favors. The cresting lake water was frozen over the drainage ports and long slicks of half-melted slop glistened in the rising sun. In the summer, there was barely enough room for two transports to squeeze past each other. Now one of them would be backing up. Berms of ice caked the concrete barriers to either side. Keeping them on the spits was gonna be an Act of God when he had to transition to the next bridge.
The clouds above roiled. Best to just get this shit over with. He had no desire to drive this stretch during a storm. Shit, he had no desire to do it now. Too bad he didn’t have a choice. He turned on the wipers before the spray froze on the windshield and patted Kara’s leg to wake her.
“We there?” she asked, groggy.
His eyes were set on the stretch ahead. Christ, he had a bad feeling about this.
“No, we’re on the causeway, maybe twenty minutes from the checkpoint.” Probably longer; they were moving at a crawl. He felt her anxiety jump looking around. He sure as hell could understand it but tried to play it off. “What? I thought you’d be up for doing something incredibly stupid again.”
She laughed, and it had a hysterical edge. “Sure, it went so well before, what could possibly go wrong?”
He snorted, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. Fucking plenty.
Collins’s voice crackled over comms just before dawn.
Marcos paused, coffee pot in hand, trying to make out what the man was saying. “Anybody get that?”
Shaking his head, Jones punched at his keyboard in frustration. “Sorry sir, this position’s wreaking havoc with my equipment. The satellites are on the hairy edge of what they can do, and the border’s studded with apiaries. We can’t get closer without sparking off an international incident.”
“Do your best, son.” Not for the first time, Marcos thought those bug farms were more strategic than his predecessors had given them credit for. He blew on his coffee, watching the tek fiddle with his equipment.
“Repeat that Collins, we’re having equipment trouble on our end.”
The comms crackled into sync, then fuzzed out again. A tinny voice cut through. “—repeat: two vehicles. A transport and a blue passenger car, ETA f?—”
The transport pulled up to the gate as they lost the feed again. The driver presented papers for inspection. Miners out of Hamlin. Everything checked out, and they waved it through.
Marcos didn’t see the car, but that causeway was a mess. “Jones, you have visuals?”
“Working on it, sir.”
“Collins,” Marcos swore at the orb, comms hissing with static. “Damn it, get him back. I want more info on that other vehicle. Where’s Pax?”
“Here sir.” The Breaker scraped down from the bunk house, buckling his gear.
“Ready two transports, I want to be able to mobilize ASAP.” Pax saluted and pulled on his ballistics vest. “Ryker?—”
The rest of what Marcos was going to say died on his lips as he turned and saw the man staring out the window at the causeway.
“Someone shifted… Now there’s Fixer activity, sir, strong Fixer activity. ”
The Commandant slammed his coffee down on the table. “Move, move, move!”
Kara gripped the safety belt, watching Flynn maneuver the car off one ramp and across the speck of island before the next bridge started.
Island. It was just a stupid hunk of ice-covered rock, and there was nothing to stop them from sliding off into the waves crashing up over?—
The backend skidded and she screamed.
“I can’t swim!”
“What?” Flynn laughed, bringing them out of the slide and onto the next bridge. “Don’t worry, water’s so cold, shock’ll kill you before you drown.” He glanced over and grinned. She couldn’t tell if the jerk was kidding or not. “Come on, that wasn’t so bad, one down, two to?—”
He broke off, going rigid.
A burst of his adrenaline seared through her as the engine cut off. The car jerked to a stop in the middle of the causeway.
Fixed.
She threw out a hasty bind. A Fixer’s talent rebounded off it. Sirens sounded in the distance. They had to get out of here! Kara cast out her senses, homing in on the origin of the fix, somewhere out on the lake.
She lashed out, trying to bind them and disrupt their concentration. Flynn gave a tight scream. Gasping at the echo of agony burning through their bond, Kara grit her teeth, leaking bloodlust. Whomever this was, she was going to hurt them. Striking out with her talent, she forced the Fixer to drop part of his weave and deal with her.
The searing pain in Flynn’s chest disappeared, and that goddamned perfume filled the air. He tried to pull and swore; the Fixer still had a lock on his talent. Groping blindly for a way to get free, he felt a trickle of power through his bond with Kara. Desperate, he pulled from it.
His halos grew brighter.
Lights raced down the causeway, too quick to be anything but Source transports. Kara pulled more talent, straining against the Fixer. Flynn sagged in his seat, halos sputtering as she forced the enemy Talent to contend with the barrage of weaves she threw at him. She cried out, pain stabbing through her chest.
Her grip on her talent slipped.
The Fixer’s ability slammed her, knocking the air from her lungs. Frantic, she sent out a massive burst of talent, scrambling to keep him from locking on her channel. His weave broke up enough for her to suck in a heaving breath, and then it bombarded her again.
Flynn’s talent roared back into him. His halos blazed, illuminating the interior of the car and out into the early morning. He threw out a cloak, but the enemy Talent had locked on Kara, and Flynn couldn’t break the fix on her. They had to get off this goddamned bridge, back up onto the rocks—That transport was gonna hit them head on. Fifty-fifty as to if that was worse than Peacekeepers getting ahold of them.
“Shit, you gotta hurry!” It’d turned on to the far end of the causeway. Flynn reached down to joggle the wires and restart the car. Christ, he couldn’t see what the hell he was?—
“Ow! Fuck!” He jerked back singed fingers. That transport was coming too fast, it was gonna plow right into them. Scrabbling at the seatbelt, his stomach dropped.
They were fucking toast.
Kara’s brow beaded with sweat, altering the binds she was using, but as quickly as she did, the Fixer locked them in place. Her opponent was vastly more experienced and didn’t have to win, he just had to keep her busy until that transport flattened them. She couldn’t understand it, she should’ve been able to win by sheer force of talent, but it was like she only had access to a fraction of what she should.
They were going to die.
They were going to die, and if by some miracle they didn’t, they’d ship her back to the Source, to Riegel. And Flynn… Kara heaved a great sob thinking about what they’d do to him. Breaking their bond would be the least of it, and it was all that Fixer’s fault.
Bloodlust coursed through her, buoying her up with the black desire to destroy.
She focused it with the last of her will on their enemy, pulling from the portion of her talent she’d been forbidden to use, sending it out to devour him. That horrible brown halo around her irises illuminated. She felt the Fixer’s body unravel, the man dissipating into a scream, and then nothing.
Unmade.
The transport careened toward them, and Flynn threw himself across Kara. She slumped over, her halos winking out. He braced for the impact, wishing to God they weren’t there. The stream he was pulling from her and his own wrapped together, subtly changing the weave of his cloak.
There was a slight resistance, and the transport passed through the car.
It slowed, hovering above the rocks behind them. The backend overlapped the end of the hatchback.
What the fuck?
Sweat-soaked and bewildered, Flynn fought to hold the strange cloak. Another transport stopped in front of them. Pax got out of the first unit and walked up the causeway. He peered over the edges, flashing a bright light around the rocks, then along the narrow bridge. “Nothing.”
An older Peacekeeper climbed from the last transport and strode right through the front fender. Shit. Flynn watched him warily, afraid to move. He knew him. Well, who he was. You didn’t forget a glower like that. It was otherworldly, the man’s crystalline blue irises pale against thick vermillion halos. The last time he’d seen them was across a negotiation table down in Diytan.
He prayed to God this would end better than that shit show had.
The Commandant stopped in the center of the car’s dash, a hand’s breadth from Flynn’s knee, scanning the causeway. “Report.”
“There’s fresh skid marks, sir, but it doesn’t look like they went over the edge. They must’ve shifted out.”
“Then why the hell did they try to drive over the damned thing in the first place? Spatz, Berk,” the Commandant barked, “follow the rest of the span and see if they fell back. Pax, get Jones on comms, I want to know if he’s got that drone up yet.” He took another step as the first transport left, his leg running through Flynn’s. The Commandant’s brow furrowed, and Flynn felt like his heart was going to explode out his ears it was pumping so hard. Jesus fucking?—
“It’s been up, sir, but he was having trouble moving it until just now. Ryker says no one’s shifted since that initial burst. He picked up Fixer and Binder activity, but it’s done, too. There’s something else out here now, but he can’t identify it, and with that storm coming in, Jones can’t connect to the vector.” He looked like he wanted to say something else.
“Observations, Br3?”
“Collins’s team shouldn’t have been issued the nullifier.”
The Commandant’s expression was grim. He pulled a roll of antacids from his pocket and crunched on one. “Collins’s effectiveness was hampered by elements out of anyone’s control.” He swept the rime of ice off his epaulettes. “Fall back into position. I want the craft in the air and thermals run on the lake surrounding this point.” He spun on his heel and stalked back to the remaining transport.
“Sir, yes, sir!” Pax saluted sharply, then took one more long look down the causeway before following him. The transport turned around on the spit of rock, and drove away.
Right through the fucking car.
Flynn fell back in shock, running a shaking hand across his mouth.
He’d wished they weren’t there.
He’d wished they weren’t there, and somehow, he’d fucking phazed.
He glanced over at Kara’s unconscious form, limp against the seat, remembering how he’d pulled talent from her when he’d been fixed. It was starting to make a whole lot of sense why they wanted her so badly. If Riegel had been bonded to her and known… She was like a personal talent battery. Christ, that had to be House Jester’s extra. His ability had been boosted to double what it’d normally be. It was incredible.
He’d fucking phazed!
No one thought that was possible… Trembling, he tugged the quilt out of the back seat, tucking it around her before hot-wiring the car again. He headed across the causeway, not worrying about the checkpoint at Ryfsbane.
He’d drive right through it.
Kara faded in and out of consciousness.
She’d broken her promise.
She’d promised, and…
… It was spring. She was ten again, sitting by the fairy pond at the tower. Her halos had come in a week before. So had the bloodlust, and she was having problems controlling it. Her trials were scheduled for that afternoon, and she was terrified. She was always so afraid…
It had been a little thing. She’d left her journal outside overnight, and the morning dew had swollen the thong holding it shut. Throwing it down in frustration, she’d accidentally pulled talent and ribbons of it peeled off into the air. Entranced, she watched the streamers of matter flutter in the breeze like slips of poetry between cherry blossoms in the Deep South .
“Bind it back together.”
The voice made her jump, and whatever ghosts had animated the slips fled, the remains of the journal wafting down into a pile resembling noodles. Albanach stood a few feet away, smoking one of his little cigars. They smelled like cinnamon and cloves. For all the world, he looked like he saw things like that every day. She turned back to the journal, pulling talent. The ribbons rebound themselves, and her journal lay on the chaise before her, a hole eaten through the middle.
Albanach exhaled a stream of fragrant smoke, and tipped up her chin, searching her eyes. His own were the grey of a dove’s wing, and kind. Most of the time. Right then, they’d been flint, and she shrank back from him.
“You are never to use this portion of your talent again. I can’t keep you safe if you do. That second ring is a breeding flaw, understood? Promise me, Karabelle.”
Her stomach dropped. If they discovered she’d presented a new talent, the breeders would take her away. Locked in their labs, she’d be forced to gestate until she was dead. With binding, that could last for centuries.
She’d promised.
Albanach had patted her shoulder and never spoken to her about it again. She’d never Unmade anything else.
Until now.
With the vectors keeping tabs on them, it was only a matter of time before they found out, and once they did, nothing could keep her safe.
Riegel stood on the balcony of his suite, reviewing the report an adjutant had just delivered. Another anomaly, another dead end. He was positive they were missing something he wouldn’t. The second-hand knowledge was infuriating, especially with a death sentence hanging over his head. He took small comfort in the fact that the chance of it being carried out while within the Source was slim. Titus was far too invested in his person of late, and the Commandant too cagey to arrange another accident beneath their Patron’s nose.
In the field was another matter.
Riegel fingered the bandage covering his ear. A large chunk had been blown off, and Titus had denied him the services of a Binder. Punishment for breaking protocol and removing that infernal helmet. Adding insult to injury, he was being docked an exorbitant amount for his use of talent on site.
He looked out over the city below, tapping the report against the railing. They were questioning his mental stability again. His flaw. One more misstep and he’d be culled. It was the only reason the adjutant behind him wasn’t flying over the balcony’s edge. Dismissing the man, he swept up his highball glass and threw it over instead. It caught the lights from the tower as it fell, sparkling like a star. He hoped it hit someone on the way down.
Riegel pushed away from the railing and stalked back into his rooms. A large holo of the lake floated over the table. He tossed the report beside it, staring at the useless image, trying to make an answer appear. How had the car just vanished?
He tried rationalizing the incident. He couldn’t be absolutely sure Kara had been in that vehicle. Collins had only reported a male driver, and there’d been several recent skirmishes at the border. Not every errant surge could be placed at her door.
But Riegel’s gut said it’d been her. She was across the border. Out of the Source’s official reach.
He swept everything off the table, splintering its leg with a pathetic burst of talent. The blighted thing didn’t have the decency to topple. All his plans—naught.
Riegel paced the room, laughing. Time to be rash. Yes. Perhaps he could run through the streets upsetting garbage bins. Damn that slat! He couldn’t—He slicked back the messy strands that’d fallen from his ponytail. One other option existed, and it was most certainly ill-advised.
He needed to ask Titus for a special dispensation to bring her back.