Technomancer (Unspeakable Things: Book One)

into an orangey glimmer. I suspected it was about to go out. It reminded me of a fire, just as Gilling had suggested.
    “Your question has merit,” he said. “Let me ask you how you have fared since you came into contact with these objects of power. Have you killed anyone?”
    I opened my mouth to retort with a harsh no, but the word died in my throat. I recalled the Gray Men I’d met inthe cellar with McKesson. They may not have been officially human, but in my book they counted for something.
    “Nothing human,” I said. “And only in self-defense.”
    “Commendable,” Gilling said, nodding. “So the man you killed in this room attacked you?”
    “Who?”
    “Hugo was his name. He used to work for me—before you killed him.”
    I realized, then, who he meant. I frowned. There was blood and glass everywhere underfoot. The body was gone, but there was clear evidence of foul play at the very table Gilling had sat beside.
    “Oh, you mean your cultist friend. We didn’t kill him. He came through and—he landed badly. You see your rip? It formed right in the middle of the sliding glass door. When he stepped through…”
    Gilling turned his head and inspected the scene. The torn curtain luffed in a breeze and the balcony was revealed.
    “Ah,” he said, nodding with regret. “I failed him. My aim is admittedly still poor.”
    I thought about what his words meant.
He
was the one who had opened the pathway from the mansion to this hotel room. That was
his
power, and it was an impressive one. I could immediately see why he was the leader of his group. My eyes drifted down toward his rings. I couldn’t help myself. It had to be one of them. Why else would he wear so many? I supposed he wore them all to hide the one that mattered.
    Gilling caught the direction of my gaze. A faint smile played over his thin red lips. “So, you have not yet taken a human life.”
    “The night is young,” I snapped.
    “Tell me, Mr. Draith, what would you do if someone tried to steal your objects from you?”
    Objects?
I thought. As far as I knew, I had only the sunglasses. Still, his question made me think. I’d come to feel strongly possessive of the sunglasses. I
would
fight to keep them—that much I was sure of.
    “I suppose I would fight to keep what’s mine,” I admitted.
    A long, thin finger flew upward and he waggled it at me. “Exactly!” he said. “I would expect no less. They are so magical—so captivating. They become like a part of us. The bond will grow ever stronger, you’ll find. They are unique, priceless, and irreplaceable. The things you can do with them will define who you are. In time, they will become your beloved children.”
    I rubbed my chin with the back of my hand. I didn’t like where this conversation was going. He was trying to prove to me that greed and fascination could take over my mind.
    “OK,” I said. “These powerful objects tend to make people do bad things out of greed and possessiveness. I get that. Still, you guys are a bit beyond the pale. I mean, bleeding animals and chanting bad French poetry in a circle? What’s that all about? Are you wannabe witches or what?”
    Gilling chuckled. “Hardly. We do not perform actual magic in the traditional sense. We call ourselves
technomancers
. We perform magic with advanced technology.”
    I blinked at him.
    “Let me explain,” he said. “To someone from the time of the American Revolution, a television set or the Internet would be magical. They could not understand how it worked, even if they could learn how to use it. You and I are in a similar situation. These objects do what they do because of principles of physics we don’t understand—there are rules andreasons, but we simply don’t know them. Therefore, they might as well be magical in nature.”
    I thought about that for a second, but knew he was still dodging my actual questions. “You still haven’t explained the blood and the book.”
    “Both are functional. The power I have, as I’m sure you have guessed by now, is to open pathways through space.”
    “Yes, I’ve run into quite a number of them lately.”
    “I require organic material to light these fires,” he said.
    “Fires?” I asked.
    “Do you know what flame truly is, Mr. Draith?”
    I thought about it and decided honesty was the best policy. I shook my head.
    “It’s a body of incandescent gas. It requires a source of intense heat to begin burning, and then a supply of fuel to continue the