Yesterday's Hero by Jonathan Wood Page B

a slight thunk. Devon twitches. At first I wonder if she’s gone wireless. Then I think that there is probably a significant difference between Felicity telling Devon about Clyde’s new corporeal state and Devon seeing it for herself.
    Shaw… Felicity, dammit… lets her breath out in a controlled, slow fashion. “Now, I was hoping to deal with the more pressing issue of Russians trying to blow up London. Is everyone fine with that?”
    “Not really,” Tabitha says. Because she apparently has far larger balls than I do.
    “Unless you have information on the stolen mineral deposit,” Shaw suggests, “be quiet.”
    Tabitha opens her laptop, still glowering. She reaches to tap a key, but next to her Clyde spasms violently. The laptop screen blinks, and a file opens. Tabitha looks over at Clyde and finally lets her frustration boil over.
    “The fuck?” she snaps at him.
    “Sorry.”
    As soon as he utters the first syllable, Devon seems to shrink into herself. Again I hear how it’s not quite Clyde’s voice. See how it’s not quite his movements when he gestures. Everything is in translation.
    And my relationship with Shaw is not the first one I’ve been in. I know that when someone leaves you, you hope they’ll come back, you hope they’ll be regained somehow. But given how much Clyde’s changed “the way things were” must seem like it exists on a different planet to Devon. The impossibility of a way back must be slapping her in the face.
    I’m debating if it’s my place to do something about it, when Kayla reaches over and pats Devon’s hand.
    There is utter silence in the room. We all stare at Kayla. She glares back.
    “Thanks,” Devon mumbles.
    “Well then…” Felicity starts but doesn’t seem to have anywhere to go.
    I try to think of something to say to cover the moment. “Clyde,” I say, grasping at straws, “did you just open a file on Tabitha’s computer with your mind?”
    Clyde turns his head, studiously ignoring Devon. “Well, I sort of figured out how last night.”
    “Boundaries,” Tabitha hisses.
    Clyde says nothing, while Devon’s stare looks like it’s causing his sperm to detonate one by one.
    Felicity massages her skull. “OK,” she says, “On the off chance we can actually get down to business. This stolen mineral deposit.”
    “Not of terrestrial origin.” Tabitha sounds almost glad for the opportunity to change the subject. “From a meteorite. Hit earth about a thousand years ago. High percentage of antimony. Odd element. Not much of it here on earth.”
    A voice cuts Tabitha off. “It’s mostly used for flame-proofing actually.”
    Every eye in the room flies to Devon. She is attempting to look breezy and detached while engaged in a life-or-death staring contest with Tabitha.
    “Was saying.” Tabitha curls her lip between sentences. “Main uses are flame-proofing, producing synthetic fibres, and lead-acid batteries. Not typical for bombs. But, of note, Chernobyl came up again.”
    Russians. Chernobyl. Bomb. Not the most reassuring triumvirate of words.
    I glance up at Shaw but she’s watching Tabitha.
    “Big component of Chernobyl experiment,” Tabitha says. “Thought it’d power intradimensional magic. Russians did.”
    I look over to Devon. “Magic that doesn’t punch out of our reality,” I say to her in a way I hope sounds more knowledgeable than rote. Then I realize more backstory is explained. “There’s magic, by the way. Did you cover that?”
    My respect for Clyde’s explanations suddenly grows profoundly. He makes explaining this stuff seem much easier than it is. Still, Devon finally unlocks her gaze from Tabitha and beams at me with a megawatt grin.
    “Thank you, Arthur,” she booms. “Very helpful to know. Don’t really understand a word of what you’re talking about but common courtesy is really just… Well, it’s not that common at all really. Actually a bit of a misnomer. I mean if it’s common courtesy then why mention it?