Zero Sum (6 page)

“Yikes…Um, Rei?”

“Yes, Dieter?”

“Thanks for trying to kill the link.”

“My pleasure…kumpadre.”

“It’s pronounced com-pa-dre.”

“Kum-pah-dre.”

“Com-pa-dre.”

“Kum-pah-dre.”
 

“You got it perfect that time,” I said with a shudder.

“Of course I did, Dieter. I am most skilled at language acquisition.”
 

Rei was back to her usual humble self; she must have been feeling better.

“Indeed,” I replied. I was too tired to engage in phonetic combat. I turned my attention to the crackling fireplace instead. We must have sat there for a long time before my eyes started to sag. There was so much to deal with, so much I wanted to discuss, but the body has its limits. I faded off into sleep, and for the first night in long, long time, I wasn’t alone.

Chapter 3

TEAMWORK, PEOPLE

I jolted awake. My watch still worked. Despite the best efforts of the blackout curtains, its irritating beeps had shaken me awake. I straightened my kinked-up neck. My trusty timepiece was making the outrageous claim that it was 11AM. Training began at 12PM. If I wanted any breakfast, I needed to get moving. But there was a slight wrinkle: I was still sitting on the floor, Rei was still asleep in my arms, and she was…stiff. I’m not talking well snuggled here. I’m talking rigor freakin’ mortis. I calmly reached down and checked her pulse.
 

Ten seconds later, I sighed with relief. 24 beats-a-minute normally constituted a medical emergency, but for Rei, half-speed sounded about right. A few pushes and pulls later and I’d pried myself free. Lifting her wasn’t nearly as hard. Her light frame made it a breeze.

As I carried her rigid torso over to her bed, Rei kept mumbling about “Mr. Snuggles and the dog food,” but she was way too zonked out to make any sort of sense. I was puzzling out the riddle when I heard the sounds of paws pounding on the front door. I opened it to find Cumo’s expectant eyes (I think). Cumo’s shaggy head swiveled towards the kitchen. I put two and two together.
 

Cumo’s bowl and an enormous bag of “Mr. Snuggles Organic Puppy Chow for Extra-Large Breeds” were waiting for me under the sink. After giving Cumo his morning shovelful, I shuffled into Rei’s bathroom and turned on the light. I nearly screamed at the monster staring back at me. One side of my face was swollen to double its normal size. A black and blue rainbow spread from my temple down to below my oversized jaw. My eyes were bloodshot, and my hair, a veritable hay-splosion. Add the scratches from my frolic through the woods and my swollen right shoulder and it looked like I’d just escaped from a Parisian bell tower. I checked my wounded shoulder’s motion. It was painful from the swelling, but I figured I could make do with some ibuprofen. Not so bad for being recently dislocated. Better still, I was finally wearing clothes that hadn’t been soaked in rain or hosed in blood.

I snuck back out into the living room and slid on my fire-warmed boots. Cumo lay in a satisfied heap next to his empty bowl. Confident he had the situation under control, I decided to follow the dog’s good example and get some food in my belly. I scribbled Rei a note about where Lambda was meeting, put on my crimson-tinged robe, and headed out into the cold morning air in search of pancakes.

+

I hustled down the road beating my arms against the cold. The fog had a way of cutting right through my clothes. I took a shortcut to the cafeteria across the frosty grass fields. I hoped they had restocked on flour. I intended to do some damage.

As I blew through the cafeteria’s double doors, my amazing physique demanded the attention of the entire late-morning breakfast crowd. Perhaps it was my massive, toned biceps, or my dashing good looks, or simply my debonair flair, but the slack-jawed locals couldn’t help but stare. Having to contend with auraception this early in the morning was really annoying, but I was on a mission. I flipped up the hood of my robe and beehived to the counter. Queuing past the wary eyes of the lunch lady, I built myself a leaning tower of blueberry pancakes and drenched them mercilessly with syrup. I grabbed a cup of coffee and sat at a table by myself. Carving out a delicious biteful, I opened my mouth and—ouch. All I could see was red. I whined quietly. Last night’s dental work was to blame. My jaw wasn’t cooperating.
 

Fortunately, I’m an innovator first, second, and third. I poured coffee all over them and kept right on chugging’. I was halfway through my pan-mush when a tray slammed down in front of me. I winced at the noise and looked up. A blond, green-eyed fury was glaring down at me.
 

“Dieter Resnick. What in the name of Awen happened ta yer face?”

“Oh. Hey, Jules,” I replied. My mouth sounded like it was full of marbles. I tried to smile but it hurt too much. “Nice jeans. They designer label?”

“Who knows, they’re Sadie’s—and they don’t fit. They’re too damn tight.”

I looked Jules up and down.

I repeated the process.
 

Her jeans weren’t too damn tight. They were just tight enough.

I blinked.

It appeared Jules had…curves.

“Jules, I’m no expert, but I think that during the past few decades, the youth of this fair nation have been testing the Authorities’ patience with these scandalously tight denim numbers. Apparently, it’s done on purpose. They call it cool. They beg their parents for the money to buy them. Trade them with their friends. Now, Jules, I don’t want to get ahead of myself, and I don’t want to make you freak out, but you may have accidently stumbled into something stylish.” It occurred to me that stylish wasn’t quite the right word. The jeans were fine and all, but it was the rather attractive figure that had donned them that was doing it for me at the moment.

Feeling a little warm, I returned my eyes to my pan-mush. I’d never seen Jules in jeans and a t-shirt before. Heck, I’d never seen Jules in anything that couldn’t be featured next to dowdy in the dictionary. But minus the furrowed brow, Jules was looking rather like a hottie this morning. This confused me greatly.

Oblivious, Jules pushed a handful of curls behind her ear, huffed once, and plopped down across from me. As I worked through my pan-mush, I couldn’t help but notice her oatmeal remained untouched. Jules was hiding behind a copy of
The Daily Manangler
, but her eyes kept darting over the top of it. I was about to point out that crushing a newspaper with your fists didn’t enhance its readability when I caught the headline splashed across the front. It read: “ATTACKED!!!”

I put down my fork.
 

Below the giant headline was a photo labeled: “Initiate Dieter Resnick of Nevada carries Emissary Rei Acerba Bathory of Cahokia away from the carnage of Elliot’s faculty lodge”. Rei’s head was slumped over my shoulder. She looked like she’d been through a bad night at the disco. My robe and jeans were covered in blood-puke. I wasn’t sure if I was smiling or wincing (maybe both), but I certainly didn’t look charming. I frowned. Did I always squint like that with my left eye? And, man, I really needed a haircut…
The Daily Manangler
was really salting my pancakes.

Jules let out an audible sigh.
 

I rolled my eyes.

“Look, I’m terribly sorry your photo didn’t make it above the fold, but I had nothing to do with that.”

Jules crumpled up the newspaper and tossed it behind her. Then she thought better of it, picked it up, and put it in the recycling bin. She plopped back down and frowned. “Like I care about shite like that, ya focker.” She stabbed her oatmeal. The spoon near chipped the bowl.
 

I slid my break-feast to the side and exchanged it for my cup of coffee. I leaned forward on my elbows—and winced. I shifted to just my left elbow and cupped my cheek—and winced. I settled on modified cowboy posture, left elbow forward, right hand on cup. “Well, miss, then what’s troublin’ your cute little breeches?”

Jules continued to impale her oatmeal.

Time passed. Painfully.

“Where were ya last night?” she asked at last.

“In the woods…mostly.”

Jules raised her green eyes from her savaged oats. Her spectacles stayed low. I swallowed. She was acting like the time I accidentally torched her textbooks. She’d threatened me with eternal warts.

“Mostly, ya say?”

Shit.
I shuffled in my seat. You couldn’t straight up lie to a high-caliber witch. You had to be creative.
 

“Well as you know, I went for a walk to clear my head. I headed up toward Mt. Sleeping Giant. Then I sorta got lost. Fortunately, Rei ran smack into me, and—”

Jules delivered a vicious thrust that shook bowl and table. “In the middle of the woods?” she exclaimed. “Rei Acerba ran into ya in the middle of the woods?”

The breakfast crowd quieted.

I looked around. Every last pair of eyes were on us. (We go to a school in the sticks; gossip is life.) I laughed nervously. It goes without saying that pissing off a high-caliber witch is also unwise—and Jules was a neutron bomb caliber witch. “Um, yea, funny thing, that. Anyway, it started to rain, and I sorta got soaked, and since her place was close, I swung over to Rei’s to dry my—”

Jules leaned forward and pounced. “Central Hall is closer.”
 

“Oh. Oh, yea,” I said, scrambling. “I guess you’re right. But Rei’s cabin has a fireplace.”

Jules’ cheeks went ruby-red. “So-so-what, ya two just laid down and warmed up in front of a fireplace?”

“Nice!” Roger from Iota shouted from halfway across the cafeteria. I noticed a hastily drawn chalk circle on Iota’s table. An eavesdropping spell. Wonderful. Roger gave me two thumbs up. Susan Collins smacked him in the back of the head—but didn’t erase the circle.

“Dieter,” Jules roared. “This has ta stop. This has ta stop, it does! I am not gonna spend my time training’ ya if ya…if ya…” Jules scowled. “Awen’s Ghost, Dieter. She’s a
vampire
.”

“She’s my friend first.” I leaned forward and frowned at Jules. “And judging people by their race is beneath the Jules I know.”
 

Jules leaned back with a huff.
 

I bit my tongue. That sort of bigoted anti-Nostophoros comment usually set me off. I’d handled it much better this time. Pleased with myself, I took a sip of coffee.
 

Jules frowned and looked deep into her oatmeal.
 

“Dieter?” she asked quietly. “You two didn’t…”
 

I sprayed coffee all over the table.
 

“Stars above, no!” I said gasping. “Crikeys, Jules!”

A collective sigh of disappointment rose from the girls sitting at the table next to us.

I shot them an angry glare, and they rediscovered their pastries.

“Oh,” Jules said, fumbling with her spoon. “Oh.” She took off her spectacles and polished them on her shirt. The green t-shirt must have been another loaner from Sadie. It was one size too small. “Well, we better get goin’. It be almost twelve.”

“Huh?” I asked dreamily.

“Training, Dieter.”

I checked my watch. “Oh, right.” We needed to hustle. Albright wanted us back for training at noon. Returning our trays, we headed over to Central’s basement.
 

“Dieter…one last question. What happened to yer face?”

I felt the spot right above my gut where I’d nearly been impaled.

“I slipped in the rain.”

“Awen’s Ghost, Dieter. Please be a more careful. I’m not putting’ all this time in ta training’ a pupil only to have him…”

I put my hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, boss. It won’t happen again.” And I meant it.

+

Jules ran down the stairs like a speeding bullet. She wasn’t one to be tardy. I hobbled behind her, pain shooting through my shoulder with every step.

“Curse you, Irish!” I roared.

She giggled.
 

“Hurry up, Yank!” she shouted back at me.

I rubbed my stubble sagely. Jules’ mood had certainly improved. But girls are funny that way. One moment they’re angry, the next moment they’re bubbly. The female beast is a fickle one. It’s best to approach them carefully bearing plenty of snacks…preferably chocolaty ones.

We reached the bottom of the stairwell panting and hustled through the heavy double doors. The rest of Lambda was already robed up and ready to go. Jules tossed me a bottle of pills. I popped two of the ibuprofen and kept the rest for later. As I limped over to the rest of Lambda, a heavily accented voice boomed from across the room.

“I love this one. He beats himself up ahead of time.”

Gastone Spinoza?
I raised an eyebrow. Clipboard in hand, the short knot of a man paced over to us. The alguacil had exchanged his black fatigues for a thick leather coat, flannel shirt, and heavy brown riding boots. He tapped his pencil against his clipboard and let loose a labored sigh.

“So this is Lambda Squad. Norté America’s finest, no?”

He paced off toward the center of the massive room, his leather coat flapping about behind him. Reaching the center of one of the padded circles, he gifted us with an unpleasant smile.

“Welcome to hell, kiddies.”

“Fucking hunters,” Monique grumbled.

“Seriously,” Sadie said with a nod. “These ICE bastards can suck my—”
 

“Yo, Mr. Alguacil,” Roster asked. “What’s the deal? What are you doing here?”

“Teaching, of course. But I am off duty, so today,
Alguacil
Spinoza I am not. Today, I am but a lowly, private contractor. You may call me Uncle Gastone. Now form about me, children, ten meters off, half-circle formation, your capitán at center.”

We arranged ourselves around Monique. She crossed her arms and frowned. She looked none to pleased to deal with Spinoza. What she had against the alguacil, I had no idea.

“Now pollitos, I teach you to survive.” He glanced at his clipboard. “Ms. Rice, yes? You are the capitán?”

She nodded.

“Bueno. Capitán Rice, let’s pretend I am a bad man. Let’s pretend I have killed many peoples.” He smiled. “That shouldn’t be so hard, no? Order a subordinate to attack and subdue me.”