Interzone #244 Jan - Feb 2013 by Various Read Free Book Online Page A

said.
    * *
    Achimwene was arranging his books when Boris came to see him. He heard the soft footsteps and the hesitant cough and straightened up, dusting his hands from the fragile books, and looked at the man Carmel had come to Earth for.
    “Achi.”
    “Boris.”
    He remembered him as a loose-limbed, gangly teenager. Seeing him like this was a shock. There was a thing growing on Boris’ neck. It was flesh-coloured, but the colour was slightly off to the rest of Boris’ skin. It seemed to breathe gently. Boris’ face was lined, he was still thin but there was an unhealthy nature to his thinness. “I heard you were back,” Achimwene said.
    “My father,” Boris said, as though that explained everything.
    “And we always thought you were the one who got away,” Achimwene said. Genuine curiosity made him add, “What was it like? In the Up and Out?”
    “Strange,” Boris said. “The same.” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
    “So you are seeing my sister again.”
    “Yes.”
    “You’ve hurt her once before, Boris. Are you going to do it again?”
    Boris opened his mouth, closed it again. He stood there, taking Achimwene back years. “I heard Carmel is staying with you,” Boris said at last.
    “Yes.”
    Again, an uncomfortable silence. Boris scanned the bookshelves, picked a book at random. “What’s this?” he said.
    “Be careful with that!”
    Boris looked startled. He stared at the small hardcover in his hands. “That’s a Captain Yuno,” Achimwene said, proudly. “ Captain Yuno on a Dangerous Mission , the second of the three Sagi novels. The least rare of the three, admittedly, but still…priceless.”
    Boris looked momentarily amused. “He was a kid taikonaut?” he said.
    “Sagi envisioned a solar system teeming with intelligent alien life,” Achimwene said, primly. “He imagined a world government, and the people of Earth working together in peace.”
    “No kidding. He must have been disappointed when – ”
    “This book is pre-spaceflight ,” Achimwene said. Boris whistled. “So it’s old?”
    “Yes.”
    “And valuable?”
    “Very.”
    “How do you know all this stuff?”
    “I read.”
    Boris put the book back on the shelf, carefully. “Listen, Achi – ” he said.
    “No,” Achimwene said. “You listen. Whatever happened between you and Carmel is between you two. I won’t say I don’t care, because I’d be lying, but it is not my business. Do you have a claim on her?”
    “What?” Boris said. “No. Achi, I’m just trying to – ”
    “To what?”
    “To warn you. I know you’re not used to…” Again he hesitated. Achimwene remembered Boris as someone of few words, even as a boy. Words did not come easy to him. “Not used to women?” Achimwene said, his anger tightly coiled.
    Boris had to smile. “You have to admit – ”
    “I am not some, some – ”
    “She is not a woman, Achi. She’s a strigoi.”
    Achimwene closed his eyes. Expelled breath. Opened his eyes again and regarded Boris levelly. “Is that all?” he said.
    Boris held his eyes. After a moment, he seemed to deflate. “Very well,” he said.
    “Yes.”
    “I guess I’ll see you.”
    “I guess.”
    “Please pass my regards to Carmel.”
    Achimwene nodded. Boris, at last, shrugged. Then he turned and left the store.
    * *
    There comes a time in a man’s life when he realises stories are lies. Things do not end neatly. The enforced narratives a human impinges on the chaotic mess that is life become empty labels, like the dried husks of corn such as are thrown down, in the summer months, from the adaptoplant neighbourhoods high above Central Station, to litter the streets below.
    He woke up in the night and the air was humid, and there was no wind. The window was open. Carmel was lying on her side, asleep, her small, naked body tangled up in the sheets. He watched her chest rise and fall, her breath even. A smear of what might have been blood on her lips. “Carmel?” he said, but quietly,