Water to Burn Read Free Page A

man with a shaved head and arms bulging with muscles, began by discussing the available types of glass. Every time he gave a by-the-square-foot price, Mrs. Z moaned softly. Trailing behind them was a young man in denim coveralls carrying a clipboard and measuring tape, Hansen’s assistant, I assumed at first, though oddly enough, Hansen carried a clipboard and tape of his own.
    While Hansen measured the central window, the assistant stood to one side and looked around him, so carefully and slowly that I realized he was studying the apartment. He was a skinny little guy with a narrow face and some kind of adenoid problem, apparently, since his mouth hung slightly open. He had pale gray eyes that appeared too big for their sockets—fish eyes, I thought.
    “That estimate’s for the big window,” Hansen was saying, “but you should have the side panels refitted, too. Look, the framing’s warped right clear off the glass.” He moved to the side window in question and nearly stepped on the assistant, who scuttled out of the way.
    That’s when I realized no one but me could see him. I raised my hand to sketch a ward. He noticed and began edging sideways toward the open door, but not fast enough. I drew the ward with a sweep of my hand and flung it straight for him. It hit with a pale blue flash of light. He disappeared, and the clipboard and tape vanished with him, though a faint odor of fried fish lingered in the air.
    Neither Hansen nor Mrs. Z noticed because they were arguing about money, which they continued to do as they left the apartment. Ari, however, had been watching the proceedings from the kitchen. As soon as I shut the door, he came in and stood looking at the spot where Fish Guy had been standing.
    “What was that?” he said.
    “Did you see him?”
    “It was a him? No, of course not. But I did see you draw some kind of symbol in the air and gesture toward the wall.”
    “The target was a Chaos creature dressed up to look like a human being. Huh. I’ve never seen that before. I’d better report in to my handler. I need to go into trance.”
    I flopped down on the couch, rested my head against the upholstery, and let my mind slip below the consciousness level. As soon as I sent out the emergency signal, Y responded. That’s the only name I have for him, Y, even though he’s been my handler ever since I took the job. I do know what he looks like, however. Since my promotion he’s appeared in these trance meetings as himself, or so he’s assured me: a Japanese-American man with glasses, streaks of gray in his thick hair, and distinguished features. In his youth, he must have been really handsome.
    “I’ve been meaning to contact you,” Y thought to me. “What’s the problem?”
    “I’ve had an unpleasant visitor.”
    I extruded an image of Fish Guy, that is, I visualized him so clearly that the image picked up Qi and became visible to other psychics. As I described what had happened, Y examined this 3-D picture.
    “The ward dispatched him?” Y said. “This bodes ill.”
    “Very ill,” I said. “I’ve never heard of a Chaos critter appearing human before, not even a real dorky human like this guy.”
    “Neither have I. I wonder if he was the usual creature, or if he was some new type of projection.”
    “Projection? You mean a direct link back to a Chaos master’s mind?”
    “I’m not sure what I mean. The thought just came to me. That’s the trouble with running on intuition.”
    “Yeah, ’fraid so. Look, some old magical texts talk about astral projections—”
    “I wish you’d stop referring to those. There’s nothing scientific about them.”
    I bit my inner tongue and shielded my thoughts to keep from snapping at him. There’s nothing scientific about ignoring evidence, either, is what I wanted to say, even though the evidence needs to be sorted through.
    “I think he was a totally new kind of apparition,” I said, “because when he vanished he left nothing behind. An