Public Enemies (42 page)

Finally she came around the corner, fangs glinting in the red light. “Floor's clear. Future-tech is this way. They have signs posted, like they were expecting to be raided. Convenient!”

I remembered that from visiting Medical with Buzzkill. A being as powerful as Wedderburn couldn't conceive of a mortal daring to strike back. But extremis was only the beginning. I took the deal for revenge, but now it had evolved into something else.
I'm out of the game, but I can still make a move. Does that mean I'm a
player
now, not a pawn or even a queen?
Glad to shed that unwanted title, I dismissed the darker implications of being a competitor in this malevolent contest.

We ran down the dark hallway, though I had to cover my mouth when I saw what she'd done to the guards. The rest of the troops must be deployed in a cluster close to the winter king's office. That was exactly what I'd do during an incursion. Except that wasn't my plan anymore, so he'd left a critical area with inadequate defenses. The door to future-tech was similar in weight and construction to the one that protected the Oracle. Since they'd shut down the power, locking the elevators, I couldn't short out the panel as I had before. Plus, without protection, that move would certainly fry me like an egg.

“Can you take it down?” I asked.

She nodded. “It'll take time, though. Watch my back and kill anything that comes at us.”

“I'm on it. We probably have whatever time was left between check-ins. When that squad goes dark, they'll know where we are.”

In reply her body swelled.
Damn, that's freaking cool.
Allison barely fit beneath the ceiling and she slammed a giant shoulder against the doors. It only took five strikes before the doors buckled enough for us to slip between them. She downshifted to human form and came in after me. The room was completely dark, so I fished around in Buzzkill's bag until I found a light.
This is basically the best go-bag ever.

I already knew where I wanted to go. Allison was prowling on her own, looting as I'd promised she could. Five minutes later, I laid hands on a watch that looked like Kian's, only more complicated. As I recalled, it only worked while it was on your body, and once you put it on, there was no taking it off, except after death.

Are you sure about this?
Doubts seemed logical because I had no idea how this functioned, even though I apparently invented it, along with my dad, in some optimum bullshit timeline. Wedderburn might send agents after me, and I'd be more defenseless without the mirror.
But, yeah, I'm positive. This is the right move.

Without further hesitation, I slapped it around my wrist, and the thing came to life. My arm pinched, tiny wires invading my nervous system. The screen flashed to life and I tapped it, skimming past various icons until I found the theta symbol. Since some physicists used that to represent time in equations, I activated it.

Input date and coordinates.

“Do you have a phone?” I asked.

“Are you kidding me? You want to call someone?
Now?
”

“No, I need to find out latitude and longitude. Can you help or not?”

“I'm a gazillion years old and I'm the only one in the room with a smartphone. What kind of teenager are you anyway?”

“A really weird one, I thought we established that. Get a move on. Somebody's probably tracking this watch.” If I was lucky, the medallion would cancel that out. If not …

“Which means we'll have incoming soon. I'm on it. What do you need?” A light flared from her screen, as she brought up her browser.

“Cross Point, Pennsylvania. I'm sorry, but this is where I leave you. Will you be able to get out on your own?”

Allison laughed. “Please, I could hop out a window at twenty stories. Plus I think we killed everything on the lower levels.” Her tone turned serious. “Okay, here we go. Ready?”

I added the numbers as she read them off, and then I added the date.
Now I just have to hit
GO
, a crazy-simple interface for the amazing thing this device did. My father was probably responsible for that because he hated complicated systems. Ironic, given his field of study.

Sorry, Dad. I hope other-me is good to you.

Booted feet stomped down the hall, and men were shouting over the carnage in the corridor. They spoke in military jargon, which made me think they might not be run-of-the-mill guards. Allison whipped her head around,
all
the way around, and went for the door.

“Vanish,” she commanded.

I deactivated Aegis and tapped the watch panel. The world whooshed away in a blaze of light. My whole body melted and reassembled; it was disgusting, nauseating, and painful as I dropped onto the pavement. Dry heaves wracked me for endless moments.

Where the hell am I? Or maybe ‘when' is the better question. Did I do that right?

Gradually I realized it was daytime, a good sign. I seemed to be in an alley behind a shop, crouched near a Dumpster. The smell was gross, and an old man stared at me and then the bottle in his hand. He apparently decided it was the liquor and chucked it away.

I need to know what day it is.

One look at my own hands convinced me I had to find a public bathroom fast. If I didn't clean up, I'd be locked up on criminal charges even without a body. Without ID, my life would be impossible. Pulling up my hood, I hurried through backstreets with my head down. The downtown wasn't large, and I found a convenience store pretty fast. That allowed me to wash up and check out what Buzzkill's magic bag had to offer.

Credit card. Wonder if it works now.
Various containers that I feared to open. Weapons. Rope. Pretty much, it had everything you'd expect from a killer clown.
Thanks. You may have saved me.
That would probably make him laugh.

After exiting the filthy washroom, I went to the mini-newsstand in front of the register and picked up the local paper. The date matched the one I'd entered. In Boston, I was only twelve … and fairly happy. Kian was about to hit extremis. Since he hadn't told me exactly when, I'd chosen a random date in January to make sure I didn't miss it.

Now I understood the potter future, and
that
was the one I'd chosen. I decided to be
me
: a smart, weird but fully human, nine-fingered girl with a pretty face and a fledgling idea of how to win a game I never wanted to play. Silently I said to Wedderburn,
Come at me, bro. If you dare.

Time to fix everything I've broken.

 

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This is where I confess that I'm obsessed with the Harbinger. I love him so much that he's already gotten his own short story. No question that he exudes a Loki-ish charm, but I also love exploring how wounded he is. There are
forty-two
trickster gods, and he's lived all their stories. That rather boggles the mind. See, our divine myths are rarely kind and gentle; most are chock full of rape and incest, kin-slaying, theft, and betrayal. Now imagine you have no choice but to act out these fantasies, a dark, irresistible compulsion. Now you know how the Harbinger feels. Uncomfortable, yet … compelling, am I right?

But as humans, haven't we always been fascinated with monsters? I mean, when you read
Frankenstein
, are you rooting for the mad scientist? I never was. We empathize with his poor, misunderstood creation instead, and we try to make sense of the darkness the monster is driven to by the lack of compassion he encounters in a strange and foreign world.

Likewise, in the Immortal Game, if I seem to sympathize with devils and dark spirits, that's not far off the mark. I'm having a fantastic time adding personality to our oldest stories, imagining what cultural icons might be like in the modern world. One of my beta readers commented that she couldn't believe I made her like a sadistic killer clown, even for a moment. To be honest, I didn't mean for that to happen. He's a monster, right? But every villain is the hero of his own story, and it's impossible not to take that into account.

In some ways, this story was easier to write because Edie is in a different place emotionally. She's no longer at the end of her rope, and she's realized it's better to fight. Yet there's danger in that path as well. Sometimes we get so caught up in resistance that we lose sight of other important aspects of our life, and we don't realize how vital balance is until it's too late. Does that sound ominous? Well, you're reading the author's note, so I presume you finished the book. I need say no more on this topic, I suspect.

Moving on, then. Before I commenced writing, I researched more old gods and more Internet memes. I'm curious if you can figure out what monster Edie fights in the pit, and no, I'm not telling. I suspect the answer will surprise you. The fun of this project is, if Edie doesn't recognize the beastie, you don't find out its name, and that adds another layer of mystery. In
Public Enemies
, you encounter lots of beasts from legend and lore, and part of your fun may come from identifying as many as you can. One or two probably won't be recognizable, unless you read the same weird books as the author. But don't let that stop you from trying!

Along the way, I spent a fair amount of time learning about gods of the forge, and I didn't like what I saw from the Greco-Romans. Vulcan / Hephaestus was always the butt of the joke, never getting a fair shake in love or war. So, I gave him a more Celtic flavor instead, and thus Govannon was born. I tweaked his name, which is properly represented as Gofannon. He was an ancient deity in Wales, renowned as a metal worker and whose beer could make you immortal. And I thought it was hilarious to plop him in Vermont with a bunch of cats.

Readers, I hope you enjoyed the second installment of the Immortal Game and are ready for the finale. I know I am!

 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks to Laura Bradford, who always supports my ideas. Not sure if that's because she trusts me or if we're always on the same page. Humblebrag: Since 2007, she's never failed to sell anything I wrote. Not once. That's over thirty novels, and I'm so thrilled to work with her.

Right after my agent, I always think of my brilliant editor, Liz Szabla. Partnering with her, I have learned a great deal, as she's a pro at polishing my work without changing the heart of it. I've been so excited about bringing the Immortal Game to life with her, and I send heartfelt thanks that she didn't even blink at a certain risky plot choice. (It'll be okay, I promise.)

Much appreciation to the talented folks at Feiwel and Friends who do a phenomenal job: Jon, Jean, Rich, Elizabeth, Anna, Lauren, Zoey, Ksenia, Molly, Mary, Allison, Kathryn … well, I'm sure I've forgotten someone, so please forgive me and understand how much I value your contributions. No man is an island, so they say, and no book is created in a vacuum. Ergo, I humbly thank you all for your time and talent.

My fantastic copyeditor, Anne Heausler, is one of my favorite people. Thank you for the wonderful comments that make editing a task I truly enjoy. I'm also indebted to my meticulous proofreader, Fedora Chen. You ladies labor behind the scenes so I can shine, and I appreciate you both more than I can say.

Time for the honorable mentions!
Public Enemies
would not exist without those who supported me: Bree Bridges, Chadwick Ginther, Donna J. Herren, Marie Rutkoski, Caragh O'Brien, HelenKay Dimon, Yasmine Galenorn, Stephanie Bodeen, Lauren Dane, Mindy McGinnis, Megan Hart, and Vivian Arend. I'm thrilled to add Rae Carson, Veronica Rossi, and Beth Revis to this list. And you, of course. Yes,
you
. (Because you're reading the acknowledgments, obviously. That's hardcore support right there.)

To my beta readers, the incomparable Majda Čolak and Karen Alderman, I would gladly buy you ponies for the amazing loyalty you've shown over the years. Sometimes other writers ask the secret to my productivity and I will never, ever tell them that it's all due to you two. Because then they might try to take you away from me.

We're nearly to the end now. Thank you, my darling family. Whenever I tell you I have an insane deadline, you never complain. My kids say, “Then we won't bother you,” and my husband asks, “What can I do to make your life easier?” Yeah, I won the close-relatives lottery. You're all incredible. Thank you for loving me, for understanding, for being the best of all possible kinsfolk. I adore you all.

Finally, readers … really, you thought I'd forget?
No way
. Without you, I'm the crazy lady with voices in her head. But when you come along for the ride, you're paying me the highest compliment of all and giving me your time. I cherish each and every one of you for that. Thank you for reading my books; thank you for believing in my dreams.