Hard Magic: Book I of the Grimnoir Chronicles
Hard Magic: Chapter 11

People ask me how I do it. It is hard to explain. There is just this thing inside, like a battery. It charges up on its own, and I can turn it on when I really need it. The battery runs down fast, too fast, and it takes time to charge back up, but when it is on . . . I can feel the individual pistons thumping, the air over the wings, I can see the propeller turning . . . everything. It is like time slows down. Well, mister, let’s just say that when I’m on, I own that sky.

—Lieutenant James H. “Jimmy” Doolittle,

Interview after breaking the world airspeed record i

n a Curtiss R4C Parasite, 1927

Mar Pacifica, California

“You’ve only got a finite amount of Power available at any one time.” Lance was limping back and forth on the estate’s back yard near the swimming pool. The sound of crashing waves could be heard in the distance. “If you get stupid and burn it when you don’t need to, then you’ll be weak when you really need it . . . Right, Francis? How’s the knee feeling?”

Francis’s head snapped up from where he was loafing on a nearby bench. He’d obviously not been paying attention. “Uhm . . . better?”

“Wake up, Francis. I need your help. Yeah, like I was saying. Don’t waste Power on flash. Flash is for chumps. Get in, kick their ass, and get out. If you run through too much Power, too fast, you’re on your own until it replenishes itself. Got it?”

“Sure,” Faye said happily. The last two days had been rather exciting for her. She’d already mastered a couple of the simplest spells, which had impressed everyone. She was playing with magic in ways that Grandpa never would have allowed. It was even more challenging than attempting to ride a cow. “Don’t mess around. Go fast. Get out.”

He grabbed the rope that was tied to the cloth dummy that was hanging from a big wooden frame. A pair of boards supposedly representing swords hung from it. A red rising sun had been painted on its chest. “Show me!”

She Traveled directly behind the dummy and stabbed the wooden practice knife Lance had given her into its back. By the time Lance had jerked the rope to spin it, she was already gone, standing in front of it, and jabbed it again. Lance pulled it straight up so a board would hit her, but she was too quick and leapt back, disappearing and reappearing on the other side, still in motion. She planted the knife square into the rising sun.

“Now, Francis,” Lance ordered as he let go of the rope.

This time the board moved way too fast, and a different angle, and it clipped her right in the shin. Faye screamed as she Traveled, coming at it from another angle, only to catch another board in the arm. The knife fell from limp fingers. She Traveled back, just as she hit the ground at Lance’s feet.

“Ow ow ow!” Faye’s fingers weren’t responding and a big purple bruise was spreading on her leg. “Thanks a lot, Francis.”

“Hey, you said you wanted to go faster,” he said, as he released his Power and the dummy collapsed in a pile of fabric and wood. “Sorry.”

“Just imagine if that was an Iron Guard’s katana instead of a chunk of hickory.” Lance sighed. He did that a lot when teaching her. “Jane, would you kindly put our young Traveler back together, please?”

The Healer frowned as she looked up from her book. She was wearing a white bathing suit, enormous black sunglasses, and reclining on a pool chair, enjoying the sun. Healers had the advantage of sunbathing without worrying about getting burned. “This is the last one for today, Lance. I used up most of my Power fixing up the General this morning.”

“Fine, fine, we’ll do something a little less physical next.”

Water was rolling involuntarily from Faye’s eyes but she didn’t think that fell under her self-prohibition on crying when she’d just got her arm broken. “Less physical? Can I drive the car again? Can we go fast?”

“It ain’t a tractor. Of course we’ll go fast.”

“I’d be happy to shoot more of Mr. Browning’s machine guns too!” Shooting those off the cliffs had certainly made the little .32 Iver Johnson she’d bought seem inadequate.

Jane padded over daintily. The soles of her feet were soft and there were plenty of hard spots in the ground. It made Faye want to laugh. She hadn’t owned her own pair of shoes until she’d arrived in El Nido. Jane’s gentle hands rested on her arm, and a moment later, the now familiar hot feeling moved through her body. The swelling began to go down immediately. “Be more careful next time, hon. I won’t always be around to fix you up,” Jane admonished her.

Delilah had wandered up to see what was going on. She was the most standoffish of everyone at the estate, and Faye still hadn’t really had a conversation with her. She didn’t think that Delilah was a snob at all, just that she had a hard time talking to people. She seemed like she was kind of broken inside. Faye could understand. She’d probably be bitter herself if she hadn’t been able to explore the world inside her own head.

“What’re you doing?” Delilah asked.

“We’re teaching Faye how to use her Power to fight,” Francis said proudly. “She’s improved immensely.”

“That’s what you call it . . .” Delilah scowled at the dummy. “Can I try?”

“I suppose,” Lance said, taking the slack out of the rope. “Get ready, Francis.”

She cracked her knuckles and walked over to the dummy, pausing to look at Faye still sitting on the ground. “Let me show you how it’s done, little girl.”

The dummy started to spin. Delilah closed her eyes for just a moment. There was no physical change, but suddenly she just seemed different, her posture shifted, and she hunched low, the visible muscles in her forearms, neck, and ankles seeming to harden. She covered the remaining distance faster than Faye could comprehend. She put her fist right through the rising sun.

Francis’s brow furrowed in concentration as he swung the boards at her. Delilah blocked one with her forearm. She caught the other one in her bare hand, wrenched it free, and used it to cleave both the dummy’s legs off in one swipe. Next she grabbed it by the face, tore it clean off, snapping the rope in two, spun once and pitched the head clear into the ocean before the body had even hit the ground.

It had taken about two seconds. She stepped back and straightened her dress. Her body seemed to soften and her posture returned to normal. “There you go.”

Francis and Jane stood there with their mouths agape. Lance just grunted. “Great. Now we need a new dummy.”

Delilah came over and sat on the grass next to Faye. “Listen, you’re not gonna learn to fight by hitting a canvas sack. How about you work with me? I don’t think you could hurt me if you tried, anyway, and it would be a lot more realistic.”

Jane spoke up. “I can’t Mend her if you rip her head off.”

“Shove it, sister,” Delilah called back. “What do you say?”

It couldn’t hurt. Well, actually, it could hurt a whole lot. But this was probably Delilah’s idea of being nice. “Sure. Tearing someone’s legs off with their arm could be useful.”

“You’ll probably have to work up to that. Come on, stand up.” Delilah arched her back, kicked her legs, and was instantly on her feet. “Hit me as hard as you can. I’ll just give you a little love tap when you screw up.”

“Delilah . . .” Lance muttered.

“Relax, squirrel boy. I won’t hurt her . . . much.” Her smile was kind of scary.

“You don’t have to do this, Faye,” Lance suggested. “Brutes are the reason I carry a .44 Special stoked with hot wadcutters.” Delilah growled at him. “I’m just sayin’ is all.”

Faye stood up. Her arm and leg were feeling much better already. Delilah was waiting for her in the center of the lawn. Francis and Lance stepped back. Jane picked up her book, but apparently she’d found something more interesting for once, and didn’t open it. Lance had shown her how to hit something without breaking her hand, explaining that you always used your hard bits to hit their soft bits, but she wasn’t good at it. Surely Delilah would help her get better.

“Okay, what do I do?”

“Hit me, stupid,” Delilah said.

Faye didn’t like being called names. She Traveled, landing right behind Delilah, and punched her hard in the back. Faye screamed on impact as the bones in her fist crashed into something that felt like a concrete slab. Momentarily distracted, she didn’t see the backhand that rattled her brain and sent her rolling across the lawn.

“See, just a little tap for when you screw up. That’s how you learn.”

It was like being run over by a mad cow. Jane started forward, but Faye managed to spit out something that sounded like “I’ve got it.” She struggled to her feet.

Delilah seemed impressed that Faye had gotten back up. “Lesson one. Never hit a Brute with your bare hands. Our Power makes our tissues tougher than normal. When I’m burning full Power, pistol bullets bounce off.”

“You’ve got skin like a rhinoceros,” Jane suggested. “I can see that from here.”

“Don’t go there, porcelain doll, or I’ll show you a rhino.” Delilah snapped. “Lesson two, only suckers fight fair. Come on, Faye. I heard how you swore you’d kill Madi. That goomba could snap me in half. If you can’t hurt me, how do you expect to put a dent in the big man? Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Faye Traveled, appearing just off to Delilah’s left side, and this time she used her heavy boot to kick her in the leg. By the time the arm came flying around, she was gone, back on the other side, and kicked her in the back of the other leg. She Traveled back to where she’d started, smiling, proud that she’d tagged the Brute twice and gotten away.

Delilah was wearing a sort of work dress. It actually cut off above the knees, which Mr. Browning surely found scandalous, but it made more sense when she covered half the yard in two steps and kicked Faye in the teeth.

When the fuzzy lights quit spinning around her head, Faye realized that she wasn’t dead, this wasn’t heaven, and that the white angel looking down at her was Jane. “—way to go, you big bully.” The heat of Jane’s Power radiated through her face, but her skull still felt like it had been broken in half.

“She said she wanted to learn. Poor little white-trash Okie wants to run with the big dogs, life is hard. She better get used to it. I even turned my Power off before I hit her that time,” Delilah said. “My dad was one of the toughest Brutes the Grimnoir had ever seen, and Madi beat him like a rented mule. He’ll eat her.”

“Your father was probably drunk at the time too,” Lance spat. “Back off, Delilah.”

“Look who’s talking.”

The Healing was done. The heat died down, and Faye used Jane’s shoulder to pull herself up. “I’m ready.”

Delilah was stunned. “You don’t give up, do you?”

“Nope. What was the lesson that time?”

Delilah shrugged. “Don’t mess with a Brute.”

“Okay,” Faye answered as she Traveled. Delilah tensed but Faye didn’t land anywhere near her. Instead she landed next to the practice dummy and grabbed one of the heavy hickory boards. She reappeared directly in Delilah’s face and clubbed her like she was swinging at a baseball. Delilah rocked back, and Faye appeared behind her, and hit her in the back of the head so hard that the wood stung her palms.

Faye reappeared twenty feet away, still holding the board and panting. “Grandpa liked baseball. Said it was the best American sport. He taught me how to bat,” she shouted.

“You little snot!” Delilah said, striding forward, rubbing the back of her head. She charged, leaping across the space, and landed in the empty spot Faye had just left. “Where—”

Faye clocked her with the club again, this time in the back of the leg. She was gone by the time Delilah kicked through the air. She spun, searching, and didn’t see the fist-size rock launched from the other end of the pool. Faye shouted with glee as the rock hit her straight in the nose. “He taught me to pitch overhand too!”

Delilah cursed and raised her hands, serious now. Faye ran up onto the diving board, screaming, as she leapt into the pool, except there was no splash. Delilah spun expecting her to appear from behind, but instead Faye came out of the air over her head. The impact was so loud that everyone in the yard cringed. Faye Traveled before she hit the ground and was gone.

Delilah went to her knees, cringing at the indentation in her shoulder. “Oh, I’m turning it up now.”

Faye came around from behind Francis. He jumped in surprise. “Remember, don’t tear my head off, ’cause that would be cheating,” Faye taunted. She could tell that Delilah was angry and burning her Power hard now. Her body seemed different, hard and dangerous. Just like Lance had said, she was using it up too fast. Faye was only using hers in tiny pops, and she’d never actually run out of Power before in her life, but she figured she would know when she got close. She just had to outlast her opponent. “You’re right, Delilah, this is fun!” Then she Traveled.

Delilah spun, lashing out randomly as Faye disappeared. She hesitated, but the Traveler didn’t arrive anywhere near her. “Where are you?”

“Up here!” Faye waved from the roof of the estate. “Come and get me!”

Delilah was mad. She ran across the yard, took two big strides, and landed in a crouch on the roof of the porch, two more bounds and she was on top of the shingles with Faye. Brutes could climb fast. “Oh, you’re dead meat, you hick.”

Faye waited until Delilah was almost on top of her before Traveling. She landed in the yard back where it all started. “What’re you doing up there, silly?” she called, waited for Delilah’s frustrated scream, then focused hard, appeared in the air directly behind the Brute, and swung the hickory stick with all of her strength. Faye was a skinny girl, but she’d been doing manual labor and bucking hay for three years, and had busted more than a few bulls in the snout with a shovel handle, and she laid into Delilah like she was a particularly nasty Holstein. The stick broke in half, but Delilah rocked forward, off balance, and tumbled from the tall roof.

She landed flat on her back on the tiles next to the pool with a terrible thump.

Faye appeared next to her a second later and squatted down. Delilah grunted as she tried to sit up, her Power momentarily exhausted from hardening her body for the impact. “What was the lesson that time?” Faye asked innocently.

Delilah closed her eyes and sank back to the tiles. She held out her hand in truce, and Faye slowly took it. “The lesson that time is that you aren’t as stupid a hick as you pretend to be.” She actually smiled. Faye could tell that it was a real one this time. She’d made a new friend.

* * *

Sullivan was impressed, and he didn’t impress easily. The mansion was epic, probably the single biggest house he’d ever seen excluding pictures of palaces and castles from books. He actually recognized the European architectural styles, but since he’d only read the words and had never heard them pronounced, he didn’t even bother trying to say them out loud. He whistled. “Nice digs you boys got here.”

“It belongs to one of our operatives. His family burns money during the winter to keep warm. You might remember him. You shot him in the knee,” Heinrich said.

“Well, I broke your jaw, and we’re best buddies now,” Sullivan responded. “How many of you Grimnoir are there anyway?”

“Not near enough,” Garrett said. “That’s not my place to say. You’ve not taken the oath, so there’s only so much I can tell you. That’s between you and the General.” Sullivan could respect keeping mum for security’s sake. He had no doubt that anyone who showed up on the Chairman’s doorstep with a roster of Grimnoir would be rolling in the green.

Garrett sounded the Ford’s squeaky air horn as they pulled up to the front porch. From the funny markings he’d seen on the way in, he figured that the people inside already knew they were coming.

He unfolded himself from the car. A fountain bubbled nearby. It was a giant gold fish spitting water straight into the air at a golden UBF-style passenger blimp. The illusion created was that the water spout was holding up the dirigible, but Sullivan found the whole thing gaudy. Heinrich began to unload the luggage from the trunk. Sullivan had no bags at all, just the clothes on his back. He didn’t need much, though he did miss his Lewis gun. It had sentimental value.

A group of people came out onto the front porch. An absolutely gorgeous blonde in a white bathing suit came running off the porch. He recognized her as the Healer from the stolen blimp. Dan Garrett broke into a huge grin, opened his arms, and the blonde jumped on him, showering the pudgy little man with kisses. He looked over at Heinrich. The German just shrugged. Go Dan, Sullivan thought.

“I’m so glad you’re home!” she said, squeezing Dan tight.

“It’s good to be back,” Dan answered as she broke free. He had to adjust his glasses. “Jake Sullivan, this is my fiancée.”

The blonde turned to him. Sullivan tried not to stare impolitely, but he hadn’t seen a woman that attractive in a bathing suit, even a very modest one, for a long time, as in ever. “Jane,” she said, holding out one hand. Her nails were painted bright red. “What have you done to yourself this time? Every time I’ve seen you, you have more holes in you! Hang on.”

Sullivan’s hand suddenly felt very warm. The heat rolled across his body, and seemed to collect in his injuries. His lungs filled with fire, and he jerked his hand away. “What’re you doing?”

Jane looked offended. “Well, I was trying to help you, but I suppose I should save what Power I’ve got left for today in case the General has any more attacks. I’ll fix you right up tomorrow.” She studied his chest. “And stop smoking, or you’ll develop miserable emphysema in three years, and be dead in six.”

The heat seemed to dissipate except in the spots where he’d recently been hurt. Those bits were so hot that he started sweating profusely. “Well, thanks . . .” He’d never actually met a real live Healer before. “But if I schedule a regular checkup with you, can I keep smoking?” Jane just sniffed indignantly.

Two men came off the porch, shaking hands with Dan and Heinrich. The first was a squat, but powerfully built man. Sullivan recognized the beard from the salt circle on the train. The second was tall, extremely thin, and completely bald. He would have made a convincing undertaker. He looked familiar, and Sullivan could almost swear that he’d seen his picture in a book.

“John Moses Browning?” he asked.

“Indeed. Hello, Mr. Sullivan.” The tall man came over and shook his hand. His grip was firm and callused.

“But you’re dead.”

“Greatly exaggerated,” he said with a smile.

Sullivan was not an emotional man, but he couldn’t help himself. “Sir . . . I just have to tell you that the M1911 is the finest fighting handgun in the history of the world. It’s an honor. I killed a mess of Germans with one of those. It was very dear to me.”

“Thank you, sir.” Browning looked a little embarrassed. “Hmm . . . I’ll have to show you my workshop then. I have some new prototypes that I think you would like.”

The short man came over with a pronounced limp. When they shook hands, it was obvious that he was trying to put some extra squeeze in there. “Lance Talon. Good to meet you, Sullivan.” Sullivan squeezed back. Both of them were too strong to hurt the other. Finally Lance grinned at him and let go. “Welcome to the Grimnoir. The General’s looking forward to seeing you.”

“Wait . . . Talon? The famous hunter? I read your book about Africa.” Sullivan didn’t admit it, but he’d thought the whole thing had been fabricated. Lance Talon just sounded like too much of a radio serial hero’s name to actually be a real person.

“Glad somebody read it.” Lance turned back toward the porch as the doors opened. “And here are the others that are staying with us. I believe you know Delilah?”

She was standing there in the doorway, watching him carefully, wearing a short grey dress with her hands resting on her hips. She was just as beautiful as the day they’d met. As pretty as the night he’d tried to arrest her . . . he lowered his eyes, uncomfortable. When he looked up, she was still smirking at him, and he had no idea what to say.

Faye was walking through the house with Delilah. The others had been alerted to something by their rings, and had gathered at the front. Apparently somebody Faye didn’t know was arriving. She was excited to meet these new Grimnoir, as everyone else she had met had been very nice.

Delilah had been talking about fighting, and Faye had only been half paying attention. She knew that she should be trying to learn more, because Delilah was like an encyclopedia of ways to hurt people, but she’d learned so much over the last few days that she felt like her brain was full. She was exhausted, and just wanted to take a nap. It was true what they said: a Healer could fix you, but you still felt the pain for a while after, and every single part of her body hurt from the training.

So she was distracted when Delilah opened the front door. She was saying something about how she was nervous, because one of these new arrivals and her used to be real close, but Faye was too tired to care.

When she looked past Delilah’s shoulder, the world came to a screeching halt. He was there, the thing from her nightmares. Faye froze, suddenly choking on her own terror.

His face was down, covered by a black fedora, but she recognized him anyway, the way he stood, the way he moved. He was huge, his chest wide as two men, arms like tree trunks, and when he looked up toward Delilah, she saw the square profile of the left side of his face.

It was him!

The right side of his face would be a hideous scar and one gleaming white eyeball and Mr. Browning and Lance were standing right next to him, unaware of the evil they’d invited into their house, and she just knew that when that bad eye came around he was going to kill all her new friends just like he’d killed her Grandpa.

Madi!

She began to shake uncontrollably.

Delilah said something to him, and he actually smiled, friendly as could be. His voice was exactly the same, deep and dark as a well, and he even used the exact same slow words as when she’d first met him, when she’d been staring down the barrel of the gun that had killed Grandpa. “Hey, girl.”

“No reason for any more killin’ today. I’m looking for something. That’s all,” he’d said. Faye screamed and the paralysis was gone.

I have to save them. She forced herself to move, reaching into her pocket and grasping the little .32 as she focused, sending her thoughts ahead, discovering that the space right behind Madi was empty, and she Traveled.

Sullivan had tried to think about what he would say to Delilah on the ride here, but he couldn’t think of anything. Words had always failed him when he needed them most. He knew that he needed to apologize, to try to explain, to hope that maybe it could be like it was once before . . .

Delilah finally spoke first. “Hey, big boy.” It was exactly how she had woken him every morning in New Orleans.

“Hey, girl . . .” He smiled. Maybe the two of us will be all rig— Then a terrible pain pierced his back. He stumbled. Confused. The others looked past him in shock. He reached up, trying to feel what had struck him, and something felt like it was stuck, burning, between his shoulder blades. His hand came back covered in blood. A terrible buzzing filled his ears. Delilah leapt off the steps screaming something that he couldn’t understand as he fell toward the soft grass.

Faye jabbed her little gun forward, jerking the heavy trigger. She aimed right for where his heart should be. There was a pop and a puff of smoke. She kept shooting, pulling the trigger as Madi lurched, not even hearing the noise anymore.

The others were shouting. Delilah charged off the porch, obviously burning at full Power. She’d recognize Madi too. She’d help. But instead of tearing Madi’s head off, Delilah caught him as he fell, lowering the giant to the ground.

His head rolled around. His other eye was brown . . . Not white. His hat fell off. There was no scar.

And she looked up, confused, to see a young man with a blond goatee raise a skinny black pistol toward her. She started to speak, to explain that something was horribly wrong, but the gun barked and he shot her squarely in the chest.