The Phoenix Illusion

by Lisa Shearin

  “Oh, I got enough detail. I think you’ll be pleased.”

  That was Rake’s cue. “Only if I know the bastard and can get my hands on him within the hour.”

  Suzy was still sketching when the door opened, and Ian came in with my ginger ale and saltines—the nectar and ambrosia of the gastro-gods.

  I all but groaned in relief and gratitude. “Bless your heart. Gimme. Gimme.”

  “Almost finished?” Ian asked Suzy.

  “Almost.”

  My partner remained standing in front of the door. “Rake, if you know him, we need to do this right.”

  “Right? The bastard nearly—”

  “I know what he nearly did. I was there, remember?”

  Rake remembered, and that was part of the reason for his hair-trigger temper right now. He hadn’t been there, and as illogical as it was, he blamed himself for what had happened, or what had nearly happened. All Gethen had been able to do was block and redirect the fireball. In his condition this morning, Rake wouldn’t have been able to do even that much, and it was eating him up.

  “This isn’t just about an attempt on Mac’s life,” Ian continued. “We don’t know anything yet, and if you go off half-cocked and obliterate this guy, that’s one less source of information. We need him alive.”

  Rake huffed a dark laugh. “Not if he’s wearing a lifestone.”

  “Alive, Rake.”

  Suzy’s pencil stopped, and she immediately had our attention. Rake’s eyes reminded me of a lion on a Nat Geo special about to rip the guts out of a gazelle.

  Suzy turned the sketchpad around and showed us her work.

  Rake hissed. Surprisingly, so did Ian.

  I looked and leaned forward to get a closer look. “He looks familiar.”

  “He should,” Ian told me. “Marek Reigory is one of the seven megamages on SPI’s most-watched list.”

  Now I remembered. Ms. Sagadraco had shown them to me last year and told me to memorize their faces. I’d failed that test, but in my defense, one of them had just launched a fireball at me this morning. Marek Reigory had been exiled here from the goblin home world, so it wasn’t like he’d be going away any time soon.

  Then I remembered something else and felt even sicker than I already was.

  Ms. Sagadraco had said a mage from this group was likely responsible for the deaths of SPI’s previous three seers—and one of them had just taken a shot at me.

  I didn’t want to ask what I was about to ask, but I had to know. “Uh, Rake, honey? Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you related to Marek Reigory in any way? Even distantly?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Beyond positive. Why?”

  “When I sensed him last night, and ran into him this morning, there was something about him that felt…I don’t know how to describe it—”

  Rake’s expression darkened. “Felt like me?”

  Okay, that was unexpected. “Yeah,” I said slowly. “Why would he?”

  “Blood.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “A couple of years ago, as a result of a confrontation that does not bear going into here, Marek and I fought and tried to kill each other. It was extremely ugly. Magically speaking, we’re evenly matched. I think we each wanted the satisfaction of a more physical kill. Knives were used, blood was shed, the fight deteriorated into grappling…”

  “Your blood got into Reigory’s system,” Ian said.

  “And his into mine. Mage blood is potent. It didn’t take much.”

  “Blood brothers,” Ian surmised.

  “So to speak.”

  None of that answered my question. “I can sense you because you’re…we’re…well, you know.” Even though Ian knew Rake and I were sleeping together, I wasn’t about to come right out and say it.

  Rake’s mouth kicked up a little. “Yes, darling, I do know.”

  “How does that explain how I can sense Mar—” I stopped. “So I can…even though we’ve never…” Oh boy, did I need to stop. I cringed. “Oh, that’s not right.”

  “I agree.”

  “And he can sense me?”

  “Probably.”

  “Okay, I need that link to go away. Now.”

  “Once Marek’s dead, it will.”

  “Not until then?”

  “No.” Rake’s mouth turned into a firm line. “Rest assured, my darling, Marek Reigory’s timely demise is my new life’s goal.”

  Once my initial revulsion at my connection with Marek had lessened to prolonged disgust and marginal fear, a new worry reared its head.

  “Couldn’t Marek use your blood link to try to kill you? Again.”

  Rake shook his head. “Not without killing himself. It’s a self-preservation mechanism. Your own magic won’t let you destroy yourself. It also protects me against some of Marek’s magic. However, it does the same for him.”

  Like being magical blood brothers with a mage who’d already tried to kill me twice wasn’t bad enough, now Rake was going to question the ghost of a goblin Nazi.

  11

  If the Khrynsani on Bert Ferguson’s examination table hadn’t already been dead, Rake would have killed him.

  Rake’s fangs were fully extended as he paced outside of Bert’s workroom. Cancel that. He was stalking. Pacing meant you were nervous. Stalking meant you were nearly homicidal. He had a cut on his bottom lip from his fangs after a particularly emphatic word, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Marek Reigory had tried to kill me, and he was connected in some way to the dead Khrynsani on Bert’s table. Rake couldn’t get his hands on Marek, at least not yet, but for the moment he was willing to settle for his accomplice.

  I was more or less recovered and had stopped by the ladies’ room to floss and brush my teeth within an inch of their life. I hadn’t bothered with a Dramamine before Suzy’s link because it would have meant waiting at least half an hour for it to take effect. I’d popped one once I knew I was finished being sick. The pill would stay down now and actually do me some good. In the past few minutes, I’d started to feel hungry, which was always an encouraging sign.

  I did not want to be here. It wasn’t my job; it was more of a package deal.

  I was a seer, not a necromancer. But I was Rake’s girlfriend, and the dead Khrynsani on Bert’s examination table knew why his house had been targeted. If we were lucky, he’d know that, plus why and how Marek Reigory was involved.

  Rake had tried to get me to stay out of the observation room, but I’d insisted, and Rake didn’t push back. I think on some level, he wanted me here with him.

  I’d seen Bert Ferguson raise the dead a few times now, and while I wasn’t in a hurry to repeat any of those experiences, at least I’d been in the observation room for all but one of them.

  “I’d tell you to be careful, but it sounds like you’re doing all you can.”

  “We are,” Rake assured me.

  “Do you really think something’s gonna go wrong?”

  “Nothing will go wrong. We’re preparing for the unexpected. Khent Mendiu didn’t get his job and live as long as he did without being very creative.”

  In the past, I’d been present when Rake had worked some serious dark magic, but never had he felt the need to wear a robe.

  He wore one now. That’s what he’d brought from home in his duffel bag.

  It was black, it shimmered like silk, and it was thickly embroidered with what Rake had just told me were protective spells worked with sterling silver thread.

  I reached out and straightened the robe’s high collar, pulling it closer around his neck. Then I started fiddling with the clasp, checking that the two ends were firmly attached.

  Rake’s hands covered mine. His were warm and steady. Mine were cold and shaking a little. Rake slowly kissed each of them, one after the other. Then he went back for seconds.

  “It will be fine.” His voice was sof
t and reassuring. At least he meant it to be reassuring. I wasn’t buying it. “In addition to being chancellor, Tam is also the chief mage and magical enforcer to the royal House of Mal’Salin, a title bestowed on him by our new king’s mother, Queen Gilcara, one of the most brilliantly Machiavellian monarchs our people have ever had.”

  “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

  Rake gave me a quick, wicked grin. “For goblins, it’s the highest compliment.”

  “If you say so.”

  “The goblin court makes Game of Thrones look like a nursery school recess. Tam served as Gilcara’s chief mage and enforcer for five years.”

  “I take it that’s impressive?”

  “The Mal’Salin dynasty goes back over a thousand years. During that time, there have been only four chief mages who were not assassinated. Tam is one of them. The vast majority of chief mages do not live past their first year of service. Tam served for five years before he left.”

  “So, he’s got some dirty tricks up his sleeves.”

  “He wrote the book.” Rake tried a smile for me. “Best of all, he’s my cousin and he likes me. I’ll be fine. It’ll be over quickly. Khent Mendiu will try to escape, rather than be questioned. Since we’ll have to force his soul back into his body and hold it there, it’ll be a burnt body trying to escape. You don’t have to stay and watch that.”

  My hands tightened on his. “I’m not going anywhere,” I said with more conviction than my feet felt. They wanted to run far and run fast. I winced. “Though I might glance away from time to time if pieces and parts start falling off. Ain’t nobody needing to see that. Besides, I just took my last Dramamine. Don’t wanna tempt fate too much.”

  Rake pressed his lips together against a grin. “Understandable. If I wasn’t in there with Khent Mendiu, I’d want to look away, too.”

  I squeezed his hands again. “But you will be, so you can’t.”

  “No, I can’t.” His eyes were intent on mine. “Makenna, I’ve done this before, and I will be doing it again.”

  “You’ve got a crappy job. You should start looking for another one.”

  “I think I’ll keep this one.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine. “It’s got great benefits.”

  Someone cleared his throat behind us.

  It was Gethen.

  “We’re ready when you are, sir.”

  I gave Rake a quick kiss. “Get it done and get out of there.”

  *

  Rake had said, and Tam had confirmed, that this was likely to get ugly fast. Khent Mendiu was in the Khrynsani leader’s inner circle. You didn’t rise to the upper echelons of evil sorcerers by being a magical wuss. This goblin would be powerful even in death. Tam said they were in for a fight, and it’d be a challenge to get any information out of him before his soul started to dissipate.

  Bert had raised a dead goblin before, and according to Rake, an evil goblin who had been a Khrynsani was even worse than an evil goblin who’d been a lawyer.

  Our staff necromancer was big and tall, and his hair and beard were both white. He was one of those down-to-earth, nice guys that everyone liked to be around—including kids and dogs. And in my opinion, kids and dogs possessed the wisdom of the ages when it came to recognizing bad people on sight. They all loved Bert, which had confirmed for me that Bert wasn’t just good people, he was great people.

  Naturally, he played Santa Claus for the agents’ kids at SPI family holiday parties. Plus, in his day job at SPI, Bert saw dead people, and he could bring them back and talk to them.

  Let’s see Kris Kringle do that.

  Bert would run the show, doing what he called a PML—post-mortem link. I’d seen him do them before. All had been skin-crawling creepy. Once Bert had found himself on the wrong end of a demon-possessed corpse and had nearly died. That would have scared me clear into another career. Not Bert. His next PML a day later had been to get a statement from the aforementioned dead and extremely pissed goblin lawyer. Yeah, Bert had some big ones.

  Bert didn’t go in for robes, but he was wearing his necroamulet to give him even more protection in addition to his personal shields. Bert was more of a plaid flannel shirt, jeans, and work boots kind of guy, and he wasn’t making an exception for an evil goblin mage. Considering that Rake and Tam had opted for robes, I kind of wished Bert had, too, even if it’d been a plaid flannel bathrobe.

  Two of Rake’s guards who I’d gotten to know over the past few months were stationed just inside the room at the two exits—the door to the observation booth and the door to the main lab.

  Rake hadn’t brought in his own necromancer. He respected Bert’s skill and trusted him to reunite the dead Khrynsani’s soul with his body. He and Tam needed to save their strength to hold and question it. Gethen was there for protection for Rake, Tam, and Bert.

  All of that said a lot about the Khrynsani mage whose soul they were about to force back into his dead body and interrogate, and none of it was good.

  I was in the small observation room behind thick glass that wasn’t glass and was supposed to be every kind of proof that our R&D mages could think of: bulletproof, impact proof, fireproof, and most important now, angry goblin ghost proof. SPI’s security mages had warded Bert’s workroom out the wazoo.

  Ms. Sagadraco was here as well, along with Ian. The last burnt goblin Bert had raised hadn’t been a particularly nice person in life, but he hadn’t been the right hand of the leader of a brotherhood of goblin Nazis and an expert in black magic.

  None of us knew what to expect—at least none of us in the observation room. Rake and Tam seemed to know exactly what they were letting themselves in for. I’d never seen Rake so solemn and focused.

  Rake and Tam were with Bert at the table. The body was uncovered. I’d taken one look and decided there was no reason for me to take another.

  No one was really concerned that the Khrynsani’s soul would escape. The danger was that the soul would escape its own body and force itself into the body of one of the mages in the room. With the exception of Bert, they were all powerful dark mages. Rake had hired Gethen and the two guards because they were the best, and if they were possessed by Khent Mendiu, SPI’s entire headquarters complex was in for a heap of trouble.

  Bert was also a Vatican-trained exorcist, but even he might be out of his league if the worst happened.

  Rake and Tam had agreed that Tam should do any direct contact, since he actually knew Khent Mendiu, and was the best one to identify any images that would flash across the dead goblin’s mind.

  Tam placed the goblin’s lifestone in the center of the corpse’s chest. He was standing on the right side of the table, Rake on the left. Bert had taken his usual place at the head, and Gethen stationed himself at the foot. Gethen was close enough to Rake to protect, but far enough away to not be in the way of the work that was about to begin.

  “Khent Mendiu.”

  Bert’s deep voice filled the room, commanding the Khrynsani’s soul to leave the lifestone.

  The stone began to pulse with the same red light that it had glowed with last night, but other than that, nothing happened. It was as if Bert was knocking, and the goblin was home, but there was no way he was opening the door. He knew who was waiting on the other side and he wasn’t coming out.

  “Khent Mendiu!”

  With Bert’s second invocation, he filled the goblin’s name with the full force of his necromantic power. Even I could feel the pull of it.

  The lifestone’s glow brightened and the pulse quickened. The goblin was determined to defy the call. I couldn’t help but visualize Khent Mendiu behind a door, pushing on it with all his strength to keep it closed.

  “Khent Mendiu!”

  Bert’s voice cracked like a whip and the lifestone shattered on the goblin’s chest as a black mist erupted from the stone and Khent Mendiu’s soul made a break for it.

  Rake and Tam were waiting and ready to pounce. Their han
ds were already raised and crackling with red energies. The goblin’s soul tried to shoot through the lattice of crackles, but Tam and Rake instantly increased the force of their magic, the red glow almost too bright to look at as it solidified into an orb, the goblin’s soul trapped inside.

  Rake and Tam’s hands closed around the trap their collective power had formed, and without any incantation or fancy hocus-pocus, they simply shoved Khent Mendiu’s soul, trap and all, into his burnt and blackened body.

  I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and dropped into one of the room’s chairs.

  Now it was time for that chat.

  The empty eye sockets and nostrils blazed red with the containment spell that now filled the corpse and blocked the exits. The corpse’s mouth opened, exposing more red light, as blackened flakes of skin fell to the stainless-steel table.

  My stomach held firm. I was proud of it.

  What remained of Khent Mendiu’s lips peeled back from fangs that amazingly were still white, in stark contrast to the rest of him.

  The corpse thrashed and shouted words in Goblin. Magic had to have been in play here since the corpse no longer had vocal chords. Some I recognized, most I did not. Goblins had a lot of cuss words, and it sounded like Khent Mendiu had a most complete vocabulary.

  Tam wasted no time getting down to business.

  One thing I hadn’t anticipated, though it should have been obvious. If Khent Mendiu knew English, he wasn’t speaking it, or in his case shrieking it as he verbally laid into Tam. Tam’s rapid-fire questions were in Goblin. My skills in that language were improving, but at the speed Tam was talking, I couldn’t catch a single word.

  After less than a minute, the shrieking stopped, and the body stilled as it began to fold in on itself.

  Rake shouted something to Tam and moved his hands from Khent Mendiu’s chest to either side of his head.

  Oh no.

  I jumped to my feet and immediately regretted it.

  Rake linked his mind with what was left of Khent Mendiu’s, leaving Tam to keep the fading soul in its body for as long as he could.

  Moments later, Rake broke the link, dropping his hands from the goblin’s head to grab the table as his legs buckled. Gethen was there to catch him, his arm around Rake’s chest as he extended his personal shields to cover his boss.