by Tess Adair
Then there was the matter in Philadelphia, which had also concluded in a perfectly agreeable manner. The Order of Shadows had behaved exactly as he’d predicted it would, and now circumstances for the Summit had been shaped precisely to his liking. They were perfectly primed now…and so was he.
All my pieces are falling right into place.
He pulled back from the table, but she couldn’t see what he’d been working on there. As he stood up and walked to the other side of the room, she pressed the vision to show her something, anything of importance. Finally he came to stand in front of a tall shelf, full of…jars.
They were glass jars, all sealed, each one filled to the brim with dark liquids of varying hues. She struggled to read the labels through the Wolf’s wandering vision.
“Ichivore, undetermined, December 24.”
“Calder, male, February 7.”
“Human, male, February 8.”
“Rekal, undetermined, May 18.”
“Human, female, June 3.”
Realization washed over her in a sickening wave. The jars were full of blood.
Almost as if he sensed her disturbance, the Wolf suddenly spun around in an about-face. Now, through his eyes, Logan was staring at something new: his reflection.
The stony grin of the wolf mask stared back at her. She had the creeping sensation that somehow, against all odds…he knew she was there.
He raised up one hand and brought it to the mask, grasping it tightly, as if he might rip it off. Instead, he slackened his grip once more and let his hand slide slowly away, leaving behind a dark red, bloody handprint across his stone snout.
Then he tossed back his head and began to howl.
Jude wasn’t sure what woke her. One moment she was sound asleep, and the next she was wide awake. The pitch darkness of her room confirmed her suspicion that it was still the middle of the night, but she immediately felt restless. She gave Mortimer a quick squeeze before pushing back her covers and swinging her legs out of bed. Her feet found their way to her slippers, and she tugged a sweatshirt over her head before pulling her door open and padding out into the hallway.
By the time she neared the stairs, she could hear voices drifting up to her from the floor below. She wasn’t the only one awake at this hour. Curiosity overtook her, and she took the stairs slowly, careful not to trip in the gloomy dark.
The voices seemed to be coming from the kitchen.
“—you’re sure then, that it was—”
“I can’t be sure of much, but I can’t think what else it could mean. Can you?”
Knatt glanced up at her as she stood in the doorway. Logan sat hunched on a stool, leaning against the island, her head turned in the other direction. It took Jude a moment to realize that she had her shirt pulled over her head, covering only her chest and leaving her back exposed. When Jude had seen the Choronzon Key that first time, its appearance had been black, like it was nothing more than a massive tattoo. Now it gave off a burnt reddish glow, as if it had been pressed into Logan’s skin with a branding iron only moments ago.
Knatt stood behind her, applying what seemed to be a half-melted icepack to her back.
“Trouble sleeping?” he asked, looking at Jude. His voice was nonchalant, as if she hadn’t just walked in on him tending to Logan’s mysteriously malfunctioning vision device.
“Uh, yeah,” said Jude blankly. “What the fuck’s going on in here?”
Logan craned her neck around to join the conversation.
“I guess this looks a little weird,” she said.
“Does it…is it burning you?”
“The Key? Well, it’s…it’s not causing me any damage. It just, uh…sometimes it gets a little uncomfortable. Knatt, I think this icepack’s a goner.”
Knatt glanced down at his hand, still holding the limp, liquid-filled pack.
“Right you are,” he said, then stepped away and walked over to the freezer to put it back. “Shall I get another one?”
“Nah, I’ll be alright,” said Logan, her voice gruff, almost hoarse. She gathered the ends of her shirt and pulled it back down over her head, wincing slightly as it slid down her skin.
“Why is it doing that?” asked Jude. “What’s going on?”
“Had a vision, that’s all,” said Logan.
Jude looked from Logan to Knatt and slowly folded her arms.
“That’s not all. What’s happening? What was in your vision?”
Logan glanced over at Knatt, who gave her a small shrug. Jude got the impression he was telling her that it was her decision to divulge, not his. Logan sighed.
“I saw the Wolf. I’m not sure what he was doing, but…well, he seems to be stockpiling blood. Different kinds, some human, some demon. A few different species of demon, in fact.”
Jude shook her head, comprehension failing her.
“But what would he want with different kinds of demon blood?”
Again, Logan glanced briefly at Knatt before answering.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “But there’s one thing I do know.”
“What’s that?”
“Whatever the Wolf is doing, his plan involves the Summit. Which means I’ll be going, whether I want to or not.” She sighed. “I no longer have the luxury of choice.”
Jude knew that she should be afraid, or at least a little worried, but she couldn’t feel it.
All she could feel was an overwhelming sense of excitement. They were going to go see the Order of Shadows, and she couldn’t wait.
It was only when she went to sleep again, nearly two hours later, that the worrisome voice in the back of her mind started whispering to her.
It isn’t the Order of Shadows you have to worry about, it told her. It’s the Wolf.
That was her last full thought before she drifted into an uneasy sleep.
Chapter Seventeen
First Impression
Jude checked her bag more than twenty times that morning. She didn’t even have to pack anything out of the ordinary: just clothes and toiletries, like any other trip. Sure, the Summit did apparently include a ball—referred to as the Victor’s Ball, for whatever reason—but Knatt had put himself in charge of ferrying their formal wear and had claimed he’d sent it all ahead of them. If she needed anything else apart from that, nobody had told her so.
Finally, she forced herself to turn away from it and take a shower. She tried to relax under the steady stream of hot water, but relaxation wouldn’t come. Instead the knot in her stomach only seemed to tighten. Eventually she stepped out again, dried herself off hurriedly, and swept her long, still-wet hair back into a tight braid. She dressed herself in slim-fitting khaki dress pants and a green plaid button up, neatly tucked in. Logan had told her to aim for business casual, and this was her best approximation of it.
After that, she shouldered her duffel bag and gave Mortimer a quick goodbye pat on her way out the door.
When she got within throwing distance of the kitchen, the alluring smells of a home-cooked breakfast wafted over her.
Is that fish? she wondered as she floated across the threshold. Sure enough, her eyes landed on Knatt preparing what appeared to be crab cakes and poached eggs.
“That smells amazing,” she gushed, dropping her bag unceremoniously on the floor near the island. “Did we do something to deserve a special breakfast, or is this like a last meal kind of thing? You know, because we’re all about to go to our inevitable doom?”
Knatt chuckled and shook his head. Jude wondered how often she’d heard him laugh in an audible way.
“Not at all,” he insisted. “I simply thought we could all use a little extra protein today. Besides, all our meals will be provided for us for the next seven days. Perhaps I simply wanted to leave you with an incomparable impression of my skills, before you spend a week enjoying someone else’s.”
He turned to give her a small smile, his eyes twinkling with light. She found herself smiling broadly back at him.
“What ar
e you talking about?” she chided. “You know no one could ever replace you in my esteem, Knatt.”
Knatt gave a slight bow of his head, his face radiant with quiet pleasure at the compliment.
“That’s what I keep telling him,” said a voice at the other door. “But, of course, he never listens to me. Guess he likes you, kid.”
Logan stood in the door frame, leaning casually to one side, like Jude’s vague impression of James Dean. Despite everything, Jude still felt a funny kind of thrill seeing her there, popping up out of nowhere. It was like she still seemed like a celebrity somehow—like Jude just couldn’t shake the tail end of her hero-worship.
Knatt turned to give Logan a suspicious look.
“Perhaps I prefer the compliments of people with discerning tastes,” he said. “Or perhaps I simply prefer them to be earnest, instead of sarcastic.”
“Sarcastic? You wound me.”
“I doubt that.”
Jude cleared her throat.
“Good morning, Logan.”
“Morning, Li. That your bag?” She pointed to the duffel on the floor.
“Yeah. Got all the essentials, I think. I didn’t need anything special, right?”
Logan smiled.
“Don’t worry, Knatt and I are gonna load you up on our way out the door. Here, let me get that for you.”
Logan came over and swooped up her bag, then headed back out the far door without another word. Jude guessed she was taking her bag to the traveling room, which they would later use to embark on their journey to the East Coast.
Jude felt another thrill of excitement: for the first time in her life, she was going to set foot in New York City. Sure, they wouldn’t really be exploring the city much—or, rather, at all. Even so, from then on, she would technically be able to say that she’d been there.
Within a few minutes, Jude was helping Knatt set the dining room table for the three of them and placing meals at each of their places. A moment after that, Logan rejoined them, seating herself at the empty chair.
Jude did her best to push back at the growing tide of her anxiety. She ate careful, small bites, afraid that anything more than that might upset her fragile stomach. As always, Knatt’s cooking was wonderful, but she found she could scarcely taste it. She sipped at the Earl Grey tea he’d stewed, while to her right, Logan downed her coffee with alarming speed.
Eventually they neared the end of their meal. As Jude cut her remaining food into bite-sized bits, she realized that she wasn’t the only one being unusually quiet: neither of the others had said a word since they sat down. Logan was never at her most talkative at breakfast, but complete silence was unusual. Jude stole a glance in her direction: Logan sat stony-faced over an empty plate, her hands clutched around her empty coffee mug.
Knatt stood up abruptly, picked up the carafe of coffee from the table, and disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later he was back with a completely different carafe, which he passed to Logan. She took it silently and filled her cup one more time.
“So,” she said with an air of finality, “I guess it’s time.”
“Time to go?” asked Jude, slightly startled. “Already?”
Logan glanced over at the nearest clock. “Not quite, no.”
“It’s time,” said Knatt, “to tell you what you ought to expect over the next few days. At the Summit, that is.”
“Yes,” said Logan, nodding solemnly. She caught Knatt’s eye for just a moment, and Jude watched something pass silently between them. Then Logan turned to meet Jude’s gaze. “It’s time to tell you everything you need to know about the Order of Shadows.”
Something in Logan’s tone told Jude she might not like what she was about to hear. She swallowed hard, her anxiety doubling down on itself in an instant. Her hands twisted the loose fabric of her pants, leaving damp sweat in their wake.
After an agonizingly long moment, Logan spoke again.
“Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?”
So she did.
Nearly two hours later, Jude stood fidgeting in the traveling room, clutching the loose handle of the duffel bag that hung from her shoulder. Her jacket felt awkward and bulky on her frame, even though she knew that when she’d looked in the mirror, it had appeared outwardly normal in every way. It was merely her own knowledge of its true contents that made her feel weird about it. The jacket was a new gift from Knatt and Logan: made of light-brown corduroy, its many deep pockets were filled to the brim with satchels of various herbs and charmed powders—letha magical aides. Both Logan and Knatt insisted that it was only a precaution, that it was entirely unlikely Jude would need to use any of them. Still, their presence made her feel conspicuous somehow.
Nevertheless, she’d accepted the jacket gladly. It was warm, with a soft fleece lining, and she liked the way it looked in the mirror more than she’d felt comfortable letting on. She couldn’t help thinking that she’d never owned a piece of clothing that looked quite so cool before.
The present had come with a few extras, too, which now sat toward the bottom of her re-packed duffel bag. Logan had equipped her with extra holsters and straps for events where the jacket would seem an inappropriate sartorial choice.
Next to her, Logan stood sipping her fifth coffee of the day, wearing her usual motorcycle jacket and a surprisingly slim black backpack. Knatt had explained that the Order disallowed all non-member attendees at the Summit to carry powerful letha implements or “direct weaponry” of any kind, things like swords and axes, and immediately confiscated them when found. Jude felt fairly confident that this explained how little Logan was bringing with her.
On her other side, Knatt stood muttering words in another language while he sprinkled a black dust over one of the room’s skeleton keys. Finally, he seemed to reach the end of his cast, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He brought the key a little closer to his face, then blew slightly on it. For the briefest moment, it seemed to gleam with an unnatural light. Then the moment was over, and the key looked perfectly back to normal. He stepped forward and placed it in the lock of the nearest door.
“Step lightly. The passage will only remain open for ninety seconds.”
With that, he swung the door wide and disappeared into the bright light streaming in from the other side. In the next moment, Logan took two long strides and vanished as well. Jude allowed herself one deep breath, then followed suit, grabbing the doorknob and pulling it tight behind her, just as she’d been instructed.
Finally, she turned toward the street to get her first glimpse of New York City. Of course, just like when they’d gone to San Francisco, their immediate destination proved less than prestigious: they’d come out in yet another back alley. Jude’s first look at New York City was dominated by a giant sewer grate, a filthy metal dumpster, and damp concrete.
I guess that’s about what I should have expected, she thought, a tiny pinprick slowly deflating her already weak bubble of excitement.
“This way,” said Knatt, stepping forward confidently. He grasped a smart tan-colored briefcase in one hand as he went.
Jude and Logan followed after him. They walked out of the mouth of the alleyway, onto a regular, far more bustling street. Though it wasn’t glamorous, Jude took her opportunity to take in the city around her. They appeared to be in some kind of warehouse district; the buildings around them were mostly four or five stories high, made of brick, with blank, uninteresting exteriors. After three blocks, they took a right down another alley.
At the far corner of what looked to be another warehouse stood a tall, hulking man, clad all in black. If Jude hadn’t known better, she might have said he looked like the bouncer for some underground club.
Knatt strode right over to the tall man, then reached inside his vest with his free hand and pulled out an envelope, which he handed over. The man opened the envelope and scrutinized its contents for a full minute, then gave a curt nod and handed it back. He stepped to the left, revealing the doorway behind him.
“Right,” said Knatt, and Jude detected the slightest hint of awkward tension in his voice. Perhaps he was as nonplussed by the proceedings as she was.
Nevertheless, he strode forward and opened the door for the three of them, holding it open so that they could pass through first. Jude did her best to appear completely at ease as she followed Logan through.
As soon as she passed through the doors, she found herself standing in a different world.
She blinked and rubbed her eyes, uncertain if what she was seeing was real. But when she opened them again, the scene hadn’t changed: she now stood at the edge of a rolling lawn at the bottom of a hill—and there, up on the top of the hill, stood a giant, imposing castle. In the fading afternoon sun, it looked majestic and ancient, almost as if they’d stepped right into the past.
After a moment, she realized that a figure was running down the path from the castle—right toward them, it looked like. Logan lifted a hand to her face to shield her eyes as she clocked the oncoming stranger.
“Must be our chaperone,” she said simply.
“Indeed,” said Knatt, stepping forward to stand astride them.
Despite herself, Jude glanced backwards, toward the door they’d stepped through only moments before. To her surprise, a doorway did, indeed, remain—except it stood alone, unattached to anything, in the middle of an endless rolling field that stretched for miles.
Jude felt her mouth flop open as she took it all in. If she’d been pressed to say where they were, she would have guessed England or Scotland—possibly during a long-forgotten century. But according to what Logan had told her that morning, they actually weren’t anywhere—or, at least, not anywhere in the world as she knew it. The headquarters of the Order of Shadows existed inside a “dimensional pocket,” as Logan had put it. They were no longer in Brooklyn, and they weren’t anywhere else, either.
“Bit young, isn’t she?” Logan muttered.
“I believe they’ve sent us a Novice,” said Knatt, keeping his voice low. “Possibly one of the graduating class.”