The Drow made a tsking sound. “The ancient battle against Rhazdon. A little on the nose, really.” She strode toward the bed that occupied the back half of the space, with four great posts supporting a canopy above and easily large enough to fit a half-dozen people in relative comfort. More, if they overlapped. She shuddered and banished that line of thought.
Her teacher slowly approached a tall table in the rear corner that seemed empty. She waved her hands and cast a spell, and an ornate wooden box engraved with elegant symbols filled in with precious gems appeared. The Dark Elf tapped a long finger on her chin. “My, what have we here?”
She stared at the box for about thirty seconds and her unfocused eyes indicated her use of magical perceptions rather than mundane ones. When she spoke again, it was only to mutter, “Idiot.” She raised a hand and the box’s lid popped open. A small snick sounded as a needle stabbed out from the latch. “Apparently, he was so excited with his poisons that he forgot magic was a thing.” She waved for Diana to draw near.
Inside the box lay a matching set of jewelry made of strange beads connected to one another with expensive-looking metal links and settings. There were six rings, two bracelets, and a necklace. The former objects seemed finished, while the latter had five settings without stones attached. “What is it?”
“Nehlan had been siphoning power and storing it in those stones. If he’d managed to complete it, this set would’ve been a formidable magic item.”
Diana nodded. “Can you destroy it?”
“Can I? Certainly. But should I, is the question. There may be a way to finish it without incurring any further costs.” The darkness that filled the final word was eloquent.
“This wasn’t made by willing people, either, was it?” It wasn’t a question, and her teacher did not correct her. Bastard. I wish we could kill him again. Along with anyone who thought trapping life forces to create artifacts was a good idea. I’m looking at you, Rhazdon.
Nylotte breezed from the room. “Now, it’s time to take a look at the less savory parts of the house.
There are less savory parts? She discovered her teacher wasn’t exaggerating when they reached the next room. It was apparently a research lab, judging by the strap-festooned metal chair in the middle and the variety of instruments hanging from the wall. A single door led onward, and the enduring aura of pain in the adjoining space caused her to stumble. Even the Drow shook her head. “Torture room.” The central feature was another chair, this one with spikes that could be applied once a victim was in place. It was surrounded by far crueler-looking implements on the walls.
They passed through it to a final chamber, which at first glance resembled an ordinary office. He would have to walk through those rooms every time he wanted to come here. Definitely a sick puppy. It had a reading chair, attractive lightning sources, and a large desk that looked like wood but of a kind she’d never seen.
Her teacher caught her gazing at it. “From the dark forest nearby. It has been shaped by magic, rather than cut, as it is highly resistant to blades.”
“It sounds like a good material for armor. Was it?”
Her teacher gave a small laugh. “It has an unfortunate side effect, as those who spend too much time near the trees or the wood gradually lose their sanity.”
Diana raised an eyebrow. “That is unfortunate. Is that what happened to him?”
The woman’s eyes defocused as she stared at the desk, then she shook her head. “No, the object is encased in a series of sheaths so thin they’re essentially invisible. He clearly loved this item.” She trailed her fingers along it. “I can see why. It is an accomplishment. Nehlan was driven and focused, to be sure. To his detriment, he was also a twisted moron.” She closed her eyes and turned in a slow circle, then pointed at a cabinet on the far side of the room. “There.” With a gesture, the doors parted to reveal a heavy vault behind the facade. It was about the size of a gun safe on Earth but appeared to have been crafted from the same dark, madness-inducing trees.
The agent frowned. “Can you open it?” Nylotte nodded, extended a hand, and tore the door from the front. Diana laughed as pieces of the locking mechanism erupted like shrapnel. “Well, I guess there’s no need to always be subtle.” She walked to stand before the safe and saw something thoroughly unexpected. Nestled in a small, lidless box was an iPod resting on a red velvet cushion. She picked it up and swiped to activate it. No passcode had been set. She’s right, he was kind of a moron. It held nothing other than a series of videos.
She tapped the last, and an image appeared showing the room they were in. Nehlan’s back was in the foreground, but he’d clearly positioned the device to focus on the desk where, floating above a small statue, the projection of a hooded man spoke. “To find the sword, we must start at the courtyard.”
Nehlan’s voice, entirely odd to hear given that he was no longer among the living, gave a sharp laugh. “That’s unexpected.”
The hooded figure inclined his head. “Even to me. But it is convenient. Begin your search there.”
“Yes, master.”
The figure vanished, and the recording ended. Diana looked at Nylotte. “It has to be Fury, right?”
The Drow nodded and they shared a look of concern. “It is too much of a coincidence to be anything else. It is unsettling that they are already on the path. I will follow this lead and prepare an appropriate landing place for portals. His bedroom, I think.”
“While you’re at it, can you destroy that bed?”
Nylotte laughed. “I know, it’s gross, right? I’ll keep the frame but will replace everything else. This shall be my base of operations for a time, so don’t look for me at the shop. It will also serve as a foothold on Oriceran for you.”
“Why would I need that?”
Her teacher shrugged and the concerned expression settled on her features again. “You are pulling on threads of a knot you cannot see. There’s no telling how complex it might be or where the strands will lead. You would be smart to consider that you might require a defensive place on this planet. And perhaps a better equipped one on yours.”
Diana’s eyebrows drew together in a frown. “You’re serious.”
“I have never been more serious.”
An involuntary shudder swept through her. “Okay, make it so. I’ll track leads on Earth.” Dammit. When I tell Kayleigh this, she’ll have an army of robots marching around the perimeter of our yard. She snorted internally when she recalled Tony’s comment. And then, Skynet.
Chapter Ten
Sloan’s cover identity was moving up in the world. Tommy Ketchum was now able to afford his own wheels. Unfortunately, they were not good wheels. The well-used Nissan sedan from a decade and a half ago struggled to climb the hill toward the gang’s headquarters and for a moment, he worried he’d have to get out and push in order to reach the top. He achieved the plateau that marked the halfway point, and his mind wandered to the job at hand.
Bugging the warehouse shouldn’t be that tough. There are a number of corners to stick them in, and the devices are small. The office, though…that’s another matter entirely.
His car complained its way up the second part of the hill, and he finally pulled into the gravel lot. He parked it away from the other cars lest it get jealous of their better looks and cease working altogether. Once he’d exited, he slammed the door—the only way to ensure the latch would catch—and headed inside.
Even now, an hour or so past dusk, the place was busy. Small groups of non-magicals gathered to the left while the witches and wizards clustered to the right. Some were conversing, some playing cards, and he was reasonably sure that the clattering from the far left was a dice game in progress. The building was essentially a clubhouse for criminals, which was amusing when you really thought about it. More people than I’d like, but still probably the best amount of darkness out there to protect Rath and time before Sarah leaves and the real defenses kick in.
He was dressed to escape notice in dirty je
ans, converse shoes, and a large black hoodie. His hair was a mess but he hadn’t pulled the hood over his head since that might draw attention. Tommy Ketchum wasn’t too concerned about his looks on most days, only about the next scheme and the next party. Sloan wished, at least once, that he could impersonate someone who cared about looking attractive and dressing well. Or at least someone committed to showering daily, at a minimum.
As he wandered through the room, he kept his gaze moving and his ears attentive and pushed gently to encourage his magic to give him a clue. As usual, it was indifferent to his priorities. With a groan, he bent to read the labels on the stacked boxes and used the action as cover to toss one of the sticky bugs into a darkened corner. He repeated the process along the back wall, then made the turn to the front and distributed several more. When he reached the front wall, an arrogant voice spoke from behind. “What are you doing over here all by yourself, dirtbag?”
Sloan straightened and arched his back with a groan. “I heard that hidden somewhere around here is a crate of guns. Good guns. Better than what I have, anyway.” He turned to regard the wand-holding man in the ill-fitting black suit. Maybe try robes next time. He plastered a gullible smile on his face. “Have you seen any?”
The wizard laughed. “As if I would require such a thing.” He raised his brown wooden wand and waved it dramatically. “This has all the power I could ever want or need. Far better than any gun you might find.”
Let me have some anti-magic bullets and we’ll see if you still think so, you pretentious twit. His sarcasm didn’t reach his face, however, and he shrugged. “Okay, I’ll keep looking. Thanks.” The man turned away with a sound of disgust and rejoined his little circle of supporters. It’s like high school all over again with the cliques and the bullies. He had finished his circuit of the room and returned to the center when his magic gave him a flash of insight.
The leader of the magical members of the group, Wysse, was cloistered with several other witches, all of them in identical slinky black dresses and with similarly styled ebony hair. Taken alone, it was a decent look. As an effort to ingratiate themselves to Sarah, however, it was sycophantic enough to be nauseating. He couldn’t hear her thoughts but he felt her disdain toward the humans in the room clearly. Her ire was focused on one person in particular, and it registered on his senses as a threat. And, hopefully, an opportunity for Rath. He pressed the appropriate buttons on the phone hidden in the pocket of his sweatshirt to alert the team to prepare for action.
He saw the target of her hatred across the room and walked over to him with his hand extended. “Marcus, how are you?”
The man gave him a firm shake. “Excellent, Tommy, good to see you again.” Beside him, Murray nodded and he returned the gesture.
Sloan let the discomfort the woman’s mind had caused him show on his face. He stepped forward and lowered his voice so only Marcus and Mur would hear him. “The witch over there—the one in charge—I heard her saying some nasty things about you to her girls. I’d watch out for her.”
The leader of the humans in the warehouse frowned and looked at the gaggle of witches. “What’s her problem?”
He shrugged and gave a timid laugh. “She seems to think you’re less human now that you have the new arm. And not in a good way.” He had flashed on Marcus before and believed anything that suggested the modification made him weaker would be an instant spark. He was not disappointed by the man’s reaction.
The undercover agent trailed the human leader as he strode over to the witch, who saw him coming and stepped forward to face him. Her people fanned out behind her, and the man grinned. “Is there something you’d like to say to me, Wysse?”
She put her hands on her hips and absently tapped the wand held in long fingers against her leg. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Sloan palmed his phone and walked carefully behind Mur. His gaze darted repeatedly to the door of the office above. Marcus removed his jacket, handed it to a nearby lackey, and put his metal arm on display. His reply was acerbic and bordered on nasty. “No? Nothing about this?” He rotated and flexed the limb.
The woman scowled at him. “Now that you mention it, I wondered what it was like to be less than a real man. Although that might be something you were familiar with even before you had that thing glued on.”
He laughed and several of the suck-ups near him echoed the sound. But it had an edge to it that held promise. “Well, you know, it does have some interesting features. Maybe you’d enjoy seeing one?”
She folded her arms and matched his mocking grin—clearly reluctant to lose face before her followers—and now tapped the wand against her opposite arm. The staccato beat was like a threat. “If we must.”
“What do you think of this?” He pointed the limb at the women and a panel on the top rose to reveal a weapon barrel. Before she could react, the stunner discharged a blast of energy to spear the witch beside her with electricity. The unsuspecting woman fell with a heavy thud. The barrel retracted with a quiet click, and silence reigned for several long moments.
She snarled, “Prick,” and waved her wand. A burst of force hurled him back, and he landed with a painful thud on his back. He leapt upward with rage in his eyes, but his attack was forestalled by a sharp voice from above. “Marcus. Wysse. Stop it this instant.” Sarah had emerged from her office and marched down the stairs. Sloan pressed the button to give the team the go signal and faded a little more into the background on quiet feet.
The chief witch marched between them and turned first to address Marcus. “You should know better. What are you thinking? Perhaps we should have a word with…him…about this?” Sloan was surprised to see the man’s face turn pale and more shocked at the head-shake that lacked his customary bravado.
Sarah nodded, stared at him for several more seconds, then turned to Wysse. “You have made your first mistake. There will not be a second. You do not need to respect the man, but you must respect his position, which is technically above your own.” Marcus had mentioned her de facto demotion to Mur, who had revealed it to Sloan, but it was clear that the witch had not shared it with any of the magical members of the gang. Interesting. There is some politics going on there. I wonder why she feels like she can get away with that.
His phone vibrated to signal the successful installation of the surveillance equipment, and he slunk toward the door. He’d accomplished what was needed, and it was time to get away from the crazy people at the top of the group’s hierarchy. Marcus, Wysse, and especially Sarah. She is absolutely crazy.
Chapter Eleven
Diana stepped off the magical train at the Market Square Starbucks and climbed the stairs to emerge from the hidden access at the end of a supposedly closed hallway. She had ordered ahead, and her vanilla flat white was waiting. She exchanged nods and grins with one of the baristas and hurried out the door toward headquarters.
It was a sunny afternoon and the sharp light from above cast everything into a kind of visual purity that she managed to see all too rarely. She had broken into a jog before she realized what she was doing and deliberately slowed her pace. If I can’t have a beach vacation, I need to at least slow the hell down and enjoy the sunlight on the few days when it’s so perfect.
They were meeting in Kayleigh’s lab again. The space had evolved into surveillance central as the tech’s systems tracked the feeds from the warehouse as well as all the other sources throughout the city. Diana was the last to arrive, and she overheard Cara talking to the tech about an eighteen-wheeler. Seriously, enough with the mobile armory, woman. You need to clear your mind. It’s like a broken record in there. She slid into one of the high seats around the worktable and took a large sip of her coffee.
Her second in command scowled at her. “Where’s mine?”
She shrugged. “At the store, I presume.”
“You didn’t bring enough for the whole class?”
“Heh. There was no class in this room until I got here.”
Kayleigh rolled her eyes. “Good one, boss. You’re downright hilarious. So, on to actual intelligent conversation. The bugs in the warehouse are all active.”
Diana interrupted. “Wait, actually, let’s close some open loops before we create more. Is Deacon all set? Does he need anything there?”
The tech blinked, clearly surprised at the turn in the discussion. Ha. I’ll show you who’s intelligent. “So far, so good. We’ll want to outfit a space for him—probably the rest of the floor. I know you thought it would be medical way back when, but since we don’t have a medic, it seems silly to leave it vacant.”
“That’s what we thought way back when, too. Also, if you do anything that makes me feel old again, I’ll lock you in your apartment with Rath and an unlimited supply of Coke and Twizzlers. For him, not for you.”
The threat had no visible effect and Kayleigh resumed speaking. “Other than that, Deacon will need supplies and that kind of stuff, but nothing too out of the ordinary. I’m sure Nylotte can get whatever he requires.”
Oh, touché. “I’m sure she can,” Diana responded dryly. “I’ll have her contact you directly for payment.” She turned to Cara. “How about Hank?”
“He’s doing well—held his own during our bounty run and has been looking good in training since. He needs to up his shooting game, but that’s the case with anyone who joins us because we’re so awesome.” She laughed but they all knew it was true. “His magic is cool, too.”
Diana had heard the story of how he’d broken through the wall like the Kool-Aid man and itched to see it for herself. “All right. Get his paperwork finalized. Put in a clause that the words ‘mobile armory’ may never cross his lips, singly or in combination.” She enjoyed the scowl the woman gave her and turned back to Kayleigh. “Okay, tell me about the surveillance.”
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