Iron Cast(75)

That was sixteen poems ago. Ada knew that Corinne was running out of steam. She was slurring the words to “Goblin Market,” and though Ada was just passingly familiar with the text, she was fairly sure that Corinne had skipped a few stanzas. Under normal circumstances, she needed only a few lines before she could conjure an illusion for someone, and she could keep creating the illusions for several minutes after—as long as the poem was still swimming in the hearer’s brain. Wilkey proved tougher to crack, and Corinne had to quote continuously in order to break through his concentration. Her voice was starting to give out.

“A goblin?” Wilkey asked when he finally saw the illusion. “That’s the best you can do?”

Corinne sat back heavily in her chair and didn’t reply.

“She can’t do another,” Ada said. “She’s too tired.”

She half expected Corinne to protest the insinuation that she had any such limitations, but she was silent, which meant she was even more exhausted than Ada thought. Dr. Knox looked up from his data and frowned. The gleam from the lightbulb flashed in his spectacles.

“I’ll decide when we’re finished here,” he said. He reached out and slid the iron coin half an inch closer, as a reminder.

Ada bit her lip and clenched her fists in her lap. Dr. Knox tapped his pencil against his chin in absent thought, studying Corinne.

“Fine,” he said. “I think the data is sufficient for an accurate average. Do you need a break before we move on to the songsmith,

Agent Wilkey?”

Wilkey shook his head and smiled leisurely at Ada. “I’m ready,” he said.

“I play the violin,” Ada told them.

“I’ve been told that your voice serves you just as well,” Dr. Knox said with a dismissive wave. “Agent, if you’ll be so kind as to nudge me when you start to feel something. I need these in order to focus fully on the data.”

He fished some earplugs out of his pocket and pushed them firmly into his ears. Ada guessed that he had been able to disregard Corinne’s illusions because he knew they weren’t real, but Ada’s talent wasn’t so easily ignored. Agent Wilkey leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. Ada glared at him and took stock of her own emotions, which were dwarfed by a single, overwhelming feeling. Hate.

She started to hum a funeral dirge, directing the full force of it at Wilkey. It took more effort to angle emotions at one person rather than let them blanket the room, but she doubted Corinne would have enough focus right now to block it out. This particular emotion was something she wanted only Wilkey to feel.

Utter, impossible, complete desolation.

In less than a minute his expression began to change. It was subtle at first. He was still trying to block her out. She didn’t increase her volume. The song’s quality was more important than anything else. Ada pushed the desolation into every single note. Wilkey would find himself spiraling through every hurt and heartache and loss that he had ever experienced. She played loss for the patrons at the Cast Iron sometimes, in order to sweeten the joy that would come later. This was different, though.

She didn’t want to manipulate Wilkey’s emotions. She wanted to use them to annihilate him.

When he felt the first wave of it, Wilkey smacked Dr. Knox’s arm with a reflexive jerk. The doctor nodded and wrote down the time, but Ada didn’t stop. She layered on the grief and despair, twisting them together with every ounce of guilt and shame she had ever felt. She had never purposefully used her own emotions in a song, but tonight it came naturally to her.

“That’s enough,” Agent Wilkey said through gritted teeth.

Ada still didn’t stop. Her voice was the only weapon she had in this hell they’d created. She would inflict as much damage as she could before it was over.

“I said that’s enough,” Wilkey shouted.

He jumped to his feet, chair skittering backward. In one fluid motion, he snatched up the iron coin, rounded the table, and grabbed Ada around the neck. Her vision exploded red as he lifted her and thrust her against the wall. He wasn’t a big man, but he was deceptively strong. She clawed at his wrist but couldn’t find purchase. Her lungs screamed for air, racking her head with pain. With his left hand, Wilkey shoved the iron coin into her mouth. She didn’t think it was possible, but the pain expanded, filling her completely, pouring out of her in waves.

“You want to know what the new study entails, slagger?” he hissed in her ear. She could barely make out his words. “The good doctor is going to ram metal spikes into your head and pump you full of electricity. And when your body finally does give out, he’ll drain every drop of your diseased blood. I’ll make sure we ship your corpse back to your mother.”

He might have had more to say, but he didn’t get the chance. Corinne chose that moment to smash her chair into his back. There was a crack—Ada couldn’t tell if it was Wilkey or the wood. He howled, and his grip loosened. Ada fell to the floor, spitting out the coin and gasping for breath. She dove out of his reach, but not before aiming a kick at his kneecap.

“Stop!” Dr. Knox was shouting.

Wilkey didn’t seem inclined to listen. He had rounded on Corinne, and she backed away until she was against the wall. Ada managed to drag herself to her knees, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate. Spotty vision. Splitting headache. But she had to get up. She had to help Corinne.