Once they reached a safe position where any oncoming threats would be easily visible, he lowered the man to the ground, shrank to his preferred size, and donned the vest again. Manny was unsteady on his feet and put a hand on his rescuer’s shoulder to keep himself upright. “Thank you, my friend. That was terrifying.”
Rath nodded. “Scumbags abound.”
He gave something between a cough and a laugh. “I managed not to give up the secret of the illusion hiding the artifacts, but I assume they’ll be able to discover it without me. I think…” He paused and shuddered. “I think they wanted to hurt me for its own sake, regardless of the information I was hiding.”
“Sounds like them. Total jerks.” He squinted at the building they’d fled, tried to make out a smudge that had appeared near it, and sighed. “House burning.”
Manny uttered a sound of despair and hung his head for several moments. The troll didn’t know what to say, so he put his hand atop the man’s where it rested on his shoulder. Finally, with a dark laugh, the antique collector raised his chin to its normal confident position. “Ah, well. They’re only things. What’s important is that you rescued me and none of us were seriously hurt.” A note of his familiar humor entered his voice. “And I’ll have to work all the harder to find new treasures to replace the old ones. Plus, the insurance will be nice.”
Rath laughed, and his friend joined him. The blaze intensified until they could see actual flames in addition to the smoke. Gwen spoke in his headphones. “Police on the scene, fire department two minutes out.”
“Good work. Call Professor Charlotte to pick Manny up.”
“Will do.”
The man gave his shoulder a squeeze before he removed his hand. “Thank you again, my friend.”
He shook his head. “My idea to give you artifacts. My fault.”
Manny laughed and shook his head. “Oh, no, you simply added a little additional value. It was an open secret that I coveted and collected artifacts. I’m sure they’ve known about my place since forever but had bigger fish to fry before they got around to little old me.” He paused to watch the house blaze for a few moments, then added, “That’s one of the reasons we ancient people banded together. With our collective interests, it was inevitable that someone bad would notice.”
Rath shrugged. “Still.”
“Well, there’s one way you can make it up to me if you still feel guilty.”
The troll looked at him. “Name it.”
“Get me one of those radios so I can contact you if there’s trouble. How did you know to come help me, anyway?”
He grinned. “Got a tip. Lucky. And yes, radios for all of you.” He turned and peered into the distance, where the cathedral in the center of the university towered above all the buildings nearby. It was time to get moving. “Stay safe. See you soon.”
With his gear safely stowed on Max, he shrank and activated his tiny comms for the headset. As the dog ran toward their destination, he gave orders to the AI. “Gwen, ask Kayleigh for radios. Also, send drone with flight suit to top of Cathedral. We need to track them before they get away, so deploy nearby watchers.”
“Got it.”
You may think you’ve won, but the game’s only begun. Scumbags. No one threatens my friends.
Chapter Fifteen
Even in the summer, the lobby of the cathedral tower was busy with students, teachers, and tourists all going about their own tasks. No one took particular notice of the dog or the troll riding him, and they slipped into the elevator with no problem. The student ID Professor Charlotte had provided for him allowed them access to the top floors beyond the normal public areas, and he’d identified a window he could use to get outside some time before. When the doors opened, he shifted to his three-foot size, retrieved his headphones and goggles, and gave the Borzoi a pat goodbye. Max had made it home on his own countless times before and was properly tagged so he wouldn’t be mistaken for a stray.
Rath crossed through the darkened hallways and used his acrobatic skills to take him up through a transom window that stood above a locked classroom door. A window on the far wall led out to a ledge that ran around the building, and he walked carefully along it to a corner where the stonework provided a path upward. After another story or two of climbing, he was on the roof at the pinnacle of the cathedral, no larger than a small bedroom. His crate of gear rested nearby, deposited by one of three customized watcher drones that were distributed at several equidistant points in the city. When he pressed his palm against the scanner, the locks clicked open.
He lifted the lid and removed his gear. First was the modified knife vest—complete with anti-magic deflectors—that sacrificed two blades to allow for the remainder of his flight suit to fit. He pulled the straps tight and checked that the throwing knives were ready to be drawn. Next, the armored pads at shins, thighs, forearms, and upper arms were followed by his utility belt and batons. Finally, he donned the harness that linked into the belt and wound around his chest with the wing box attached. He wiggled it into place quickly, a result of long practice, before he tugged his goggles on. Immediately, information began to fill them. A map appeared in overlay with pulsing red dots and two white ones.
“What’s the situation, Gwen?” He closed and locked the case.
“White dots are Emanuel and Charlotte, who have separated—presumably having noticed they were being followed. Red dots are identified enemies.” Rath noted that the scarlet circles seemed to be following the pale ones and grimaced. There were two criminals in pursuit of each of his friends, and he had no way to know which was in more danger.
“Any allies available?”
“None in the area. I could signal for assistance if you like.”
He thought about it but decided he didn’t want to overreact and potentially inspire action on the part of his adversaries. “Track all enemies. If you see them get closer or do more than follow, put the call out. Until then, let’s handle it ourselves. Flying mode.”
The display in his goggles adjusted to show the air currents that would take him up, take him down, or simply support him in level flight. He crossed to a different part of the roof in order to access the breeze he wanted and checked to be sure the grapnel launcher on his arm was ready to go in case of trouble. It was, naturally, exactly like all his gear. Kayleigh and Deacon don’t mess around.
He leapt into space and pressed the button on his chest to toggle the flight functionality. The wide wings on the top and the shorter wings below them folded out of their container and caught the current, and in seconds, he soared in the general direction of his friends. His visual field displayed all the information he needed to keep track of, but Gwen made it easier by overlaying a course for him. She’d chosen to send him toward Professor Charlotte, and he agreed with the decision. Manny would be more on guard than ever and more likely to seek help or duck into a friendly shop for cover. The professor, however, would be as self-confident as she always was.
His respect for Charlotte Stanley was complete and he believed that in most situations, she would be able to take care of herself. The Remembrance scumbags, though, were a class of threat that the group of older folks who commemorated the Silver Griffins had probably never faced and perhaps never even conceived of. It was his job to ensure her confidence didn’t actually result in her injury. He banked right and down, then caught another current that increased his speed toward the target. “Street view.” The overlay map and dots vanished, replaced by a downward view of the people following his friend. From above, he couldn’t make out much about them, other than what he thought was aggressive body language in the way they walked. “Not helpful. Other cameras?”
“None available in the area.” It wasn’t surprising. The well-to-do who populated the neighborhood she walked through didn’t particularly like the idea of surveillance. On any other day, he would have been fine with that. Today, it was a solid irritant.
“How sure are we that these are enemies?”
&n
bsp; “They met up with the people fleeing the burning house before they began to follow.” She played the video of that meeting, again from a high angle, and he recognized the figures he’d battled inside.
“Okay. That’s good enough for me. Find me a takedown location.”
The AI was silent for almost half a minute before she gave him a map. There was a place where the professor would walk past the entrance to an alley, which would permit Rath to draw the fight into that space and away from most prying eyes. He was about to commit to the action when the situation changed. Two more red dots appeared beside his targets. “Gwen?”
“The enemies who were trailing Emanuel have joined the ones following Professor Charlotte.”
“That’ll make things more challenging. Call for help, just in case. We go in as planned.”
As he leaned into the glide that would commit him to the fight to come, the thing he had been most concerned about occurred. The four pursuers grabbed Professor Charlotte and dragged her into the alley he’d intended to use to keep them away from her. Once the extra foes had appeared, his options had more or less vanished, but he had still held out hope for an outcome that ensured her escape. Gotta play the hand you’re dealt. Or cut it off and put a chainsaw on the stump. He snorted at the terrible joke and angled himself for his final descent.
His original plan had been to employ a Batman-style move and snatch one of them in flight, pull them along, and drop them from a height. He’d never tried it, but Gwen’s simulations suggested that with enough momentum, it might work. Now, however, he was at plan C—or maybe D—and still trying to settle the details. At the last minute, he decided to use one of the attackers to help him to stop.
He aimed his right arm ahead as he soared into the alley at high speed, about ten feet up, and pressed the button to collapse his wings with his left hand. He triggered the grapnel, and the spike rocketed forward to seek a target as the cable spun out behind it. Its flight ended when it stabbed deep into the upper arm of a man who brandished a pistol near Professor Charlotte, and Rath’s velocity was cut to a fraction of his original speed when the line locked and yanked his anchor off his feet. The troll skidded to a stop and triggered the safety line’s retraction, and the man screamed as the metal ripped out of his flesh. One down if not out. Three left.
Two of them turned to him with looks of anger on their faces, while the third lashed a punch at Professor Charlotte. The woman dodged, and the man’s fist struck the brick wall behind her and left him howling in pain. She ducked out of the alley at a run, and the troll grinned.
“Surrender, morons. I am the law.” The nearest responded by raising his wand and launching a wide cone of flame. Rath fired the grapnel upward toward the fire escape he’d noticed earlier and let the line carry him above the attack. While still in motion, he drew two blades and threw them both, one at each of his unharmed opponents. The wizard who wasn’t trying to burn him to a crisp used his wand to block it, while the other failed to react in time. He screamed when the blade pierced him in the hand and he dropped his wand.
Rath leapt the dozen feet to the asphalt, rolled to absorb the impact, and found his feet beside the man who’d taken the grapnel to his arm and had now managed to rise to his knees. The troll lashed out with his batons to deliver a simultaneous strike to both of the man’s temples, and he collapsed instantly. Gwen warned him of an impending attack from behind, and he flipped to the side to avoid the stream of icicles that almost found its target. He turned and ran forward, choosing an angle that would put the wizard with the knife between him and the remaining mage. As he neared him, he flinched toward the attacker but circled away at the last moment and engaged with the one with the broken fist. When he stabbed him with his shock batons, his adversary stiffened and fell senseless. The troll stopped and reversed course and his agility saved him from yet another magical assault, this time a cone of force that hammered into the brick wall and caused a flurry of shards in all directions.
Idiots. He turned to the unharmed wizard and smiled at him. “Take your best shot.” Rath blurred into motion as the man cast, drew his final two blades, and hurled them at his foe. The flames washed over and around him but the anti-magic deflectors consumed the energy and shunted the power of the spell away from him. His knives struck true and drove powerfully into the man’s shoulders, and he charged forward and delivered a jumping kick to the stunned mage’s face. He went down hard with the troll on top of him. The last wizard, realizing he was alone, cradled his impaled hand and bolted toward the alley exit. Rath took a step toward him, ready to launch the grapnel and haul him back, but the mage suddenly stood tall, spun, and fell as blood spurted from his chest.
The troll stepped to the side and pressed his back to the wall. “Gwen, what happened?”
“Sniper.” She slid a map into his display that displayed a blue dot where the bullet had come from. It was from far enough away that only an expert could have taken the shot.
It had to be Amadeo. He wasn’t sure what the assassin wanted, what his endgame was, or why he had any interest in what Rath was up to but once again, he was in debt to him, both for the initial warning and for keeping an eye on him after. He shook his head. That man is really good at what he does. I hope he stays on our side—or at least doesn’t join the other side.
He sighed and gave Gwen the orders to recall the other ARES agents and summon ambulances and police. That done, he hurried off to find Professor Charlotte and escorted her away from the scene, congratulating her as she told him the story—several times—of how she managed to dodge the punch and get the best of the hoodlum.
Chapter Sixteen
Sloan slipped into the darkened Italian restaurant with no small amount of trepidation. The summons from Murray had been polite but couched in terms that left no doubt it was not an optional request. He was encouraged to see that the man sat alone at a table in the back, drinking a glass of white wine that stood out in contrast to the smart black suit he wore. Another sartorial step up. Impressive.
Mur rose to shake his hand and took his seat again. The undercover agent sat opposite him, and a server bustled up immediately to take their orders. Both men opted for pasta in a red sauce, Mur’s a spicy Diavolo and his own a smoother Bolognese. A tall glass of Forst beer appeared a moment later, and he took a slow sip. They engaged in small talk before and during the meal, and Sloan’s tension grew with each passing minute. Finally, after coffee had been served, the other man turned the conversation to business.
“So, Tommy, what do you think about me taking over for Marcus?”
He scratched the stubble on his face. “I think it’s great. You were the boss’s right-hand man so it makes total sense.”
His companion gestured dismissively. “Cut the suck-up nonsense. What do you think?” The insistence behind the question signaled that perhaps he wasn’t as confident as he liked to portray about the transition.
Sloan spread his hands to the sides and tried to appear thoughtful and non-threatening. “I think you’ll be great at it. Everyone knows you and everyone trusts you. So, you totally can do it. The real question might be whether you want to do it.” Mur sighed and indicated for him to continue. “Seriously, that witch is crazy, man. Certifiable. There’s no telling what kind of scary stuff she’ll drag us into. Maybe it’s time…” He paused in order to seem conflicted, then shrugged. “Maybe it’s time to go our own way, you know? Take the human side of the gang and set up our own thing away from the wackos.”
The other man sighed again. “I can’t deny that I’ve had some of the same thoughts. The problem is that we don’t have adequate power to make it happen. We might be able to grow fast enough to hold our own against any other regular criminals in town, but if we try to break away, you know that evil witch will come to teach us a lesson about how inferior we are to them.”
The agent nodded. It was almost undoubtedly an accurate representation of how the scene would play out. “So, is it official, or what?”
/> He shrugged. “We have a meeting at the base in an hour. It’s possible she’ll confirm it. I guess it’s equally possible that she might do any other damn thing as well, though.” He shook his head. “This stuff used to be easy, you know? I’ve been in the game since I was a kid. But these magicals take it to a whole different level—one I’m not sure I really like playing on.”
“I hear you, boss man, and I agree.” He smiled to show he wasn’t trying to cut Mur down. “But I guess those are the cards we’re dealt right now. I suppose the other option is to fade and start up somewhere else.”
Mur laughed, and there was a hopeless note to it. “This city has been my home since the day I was born. I know it here. I sense the currents and I can tell if trouble’s coming simply by the way people walk down the street. I wouldn’t have that in another town.”
“But you might not have insane witches to deal with either.”
“Do you think anywhere is safe from their kind anymore?” It was an offhand question and seemed to carry no weight, but he sensed a note of desire for such a place as well.
“No, I don’t. I really don’t. It’s a brave new damned world in here, my friend.”
He shook his head. “Damned might be a good word for it. Let’s get to the meeting. Can I give you a lift?”
“Sure.”
The atmosphere in the warehouse was charged with uncertainty. The different factions gathered in their own areas, as usual—the magicals clustered in one large group to the right of the entrance and the humans in separate huddles on the left. It kind of represents the situation well. The magicals have it all together and we are divided and confused. Sloan laughed inwardly. Confusion to our enemies and all that, so I guess it’s a good thing. It doesn’t feel good from this position, though. He followed a step behind Murray as the big man circulated among the humans, shook hands, and talked in a low voice. Occasionally, he darted a distrustful glance at the wizards and witches.
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