The Dossiers of Asset 108 Collection

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The Dossiers of Asset 108 Collection Page 231

by J M Guillen


  I turned to the Asset. “Let’s get Garret through first.” I nodded at the hulking man. “He’s hurt worst.”

  “Through what?” The Asset shook his shaggy head. “We done tried door after door. Percept—” He stopped short. “Larissa showed us where they led: nowhere good.”

  “I’d be lying if I said I knew what was going to happen here.” I gestured around the labyrinthine room. “But if we have any shot at getting home—at getting out of here—it’s in this.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the black iron key I’d left in there days before.

  I still held traces of the Wind, and as I pulled Simon’s iron gizmo out, the tiny Empyrean sigils graven upon it burst into azure fire.

  “Okay.” The Asset paused a long moment and then shook his head, as if resigned. “Fine. Whatever it takes.”

  I stepped over to the door Baxter and Rehl had found. Wooden and dilapidated, it looked as if it might have been constructed sometime during the First Crusade.

  “No way,” Baxter coughed. “No way that key just happens to fit one of these doors.”

  “This key,” I said holding Baxter’s gaze, “will work wherever you need it to.” I pushed it into the keyhole and delighted at the perfect fit.

  Taking Simon’s advice, I turned the key counterclockwise. It pulsed warm in my hand. I took a deep breath and put my hand on the knob.

  “Come on,” Rehl breathed.

  I opened the door.

  Before me, lay a small basement lined with dust-covered shelves. A crate had been pushed against the left-hand wall. Against the right-hand wall, a ladder led up to a trap door.

  “This basement is in Washington D.C. I believe it’s abandoned.” I turned to gaze at the Asset. “I assume that once you’re through, it’ll be easy enough to contact your people?”

  “How did—?” The man gaped at the doorway and then at me. “Of all the doors in this place, you happen to know which one would lead you to a basement in Washington D.C.?”

  “Garret doesn’t have time for long explanations.” I stared at the battered shell of a man. “He told me he needed my help. After this, I owe him that much.” I jerked my chin at the door. “We’ll talk.”

  “Yeah,” the man muttered, hefted his friend, and stepped forward. “Of course.”

  As he stepped through, I watched the doorway ripple, as if he had stepped through the surface of a pond.

  “Tell Garret I know we’re not finished. Assuming,” I vacillated a hand, “he’s okay.”

  “Why don’t you tell—?”

  I slammed the door.

  “Liz!” Baxter practically had a conniption. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking us home.” I grasped the key and turned it clockwise as I pulled on the knob. I couldn’t help but grin at the warmth beneath my fingers as the door opened.

  Just as before, all those years ago, Knucklebones’ attic lay beyond the doorframe. Simon hadn’t originally told me that the key had been geared for both safe houses, but it certainly came in handy now.

  The sheer luck that I still had the thing boggled my mind.

  “Oh,” Baxter moaned. “Oh yes!”

  “You have time to rejoice later, Mr. Ward.” Rehl placed one hand between Baxter’s shoulder blades as carefully as he could. Slowly, he pushed him toward the door.

  “Simon?” Alicia asked, worry painted clearly on her face.

  “I’m going back for him.” I nodded at her. “Keep the door open, unless something else starts coming through.”

  “If we close it, we’ll leave the key on your side,” Rehl confirmed. “I’m going to sit right in front of this door with the biggest gun your dad ever bought.”

  “Perfect.” I took a deep breath. “I’m going back to Simon.”

  “Be careful, Liz,” Alicia cautioned. “You’re exhausted.”

  I glanced toward her and realized she was bleeding around her ribs. “Take care of yourself.” I nodded at her wound then at the guys. “Them too.”

  “Simon laid down emergency rules, aftermath protocols. I’ll get things started.”

  “Thanks ’Licia.” I gazed at all of them, as a great weight lifted from the center of my chest. Safe. They were going to be safe.

  I, however, had more work to do.

  I turned and loped back into the darkness.

  The primary downside to the plan Simon and I had concocted hadn’t made itself known immediately. I didn’t even consider it until my friends were safely back in the shop, when I headed back to Simon.

  In the dark.

  The flare Baxter had left still burned and, far away, I saw the beatific glow of Tarahiel.

  Yet that didn’t help me much, as I wound my way past armoires and cedar chests, desks and bicycles, little red wagons and full knapsacks. The passageway bent and twisted, and I had no doubt that one wrong turn could lead me very far astray.

  With less than a thought, I allowed my mind to drift into the Wind as I ran. It buffeted around me, casting small papers and knickknacks to the ground.

  Once it truly stormed within me, I called to mind the Seal of Oeriim, with its ever-spinning sigils and Empyrean Seals. The power within the Wind touched those Seals, and they burst into sapphire flame all around me.

  Now I could see.

  “Good thing.” The passageway to the next aisle hid behind a large jewelry display, and if I hadn’t called the light of the Seals, I likely would have sprinted right by.

  I hadn’t taken a single step toward the passage when a somewhat ragged Simon came limping though, leaning heavily on his cane.

  “Hurry.” His wide eyes said more than the fear in that single word. “The Watchers I called stand against the Gaunt Man and his bound creatures.”

  For now, he did not add.

  “We’re going?” I turned to give him a shoulder to lean on.

  “Quickly.” He shrugged me off, apparently faster with his cane. “They can’t kill the Watchers, or at least nothing has so far.”

  “They’re unbeatable?”

  “No.” He favored me with a sour look, which seemed almost menacing in the dim blue light. “When their strength fails, they recede. Once that happens, I can’t call them again, for a time.”

  “Got it.” I moved a few steps in front of him, just to make certain that the way remained clear.

  A shadow moved on our minds.

  “Ms. Shepherd,” the Gaunt Man crooned. “Setting out to leave so quickly?”

  I whirled, certain he was behind us, right behind us…

  But no.

  “Don’t stop, Liz,” Simon wheezed. “No matter what. Run.”

  “Now, I hardly find that to be friendly,” the Gaunt Man cajoled. “Ms. Shepherd and I are to have a long and fruitful relationship, Mr. Girard. Surely that will come easier if we can all be companionable.”

  “Fuck you,” I snarled as we dodged several baby buggies. “Companionable is the last thing we’re going to be.”

  “Stop this needless pettiness.” His words oozed with animalistic obscenity. “We are not having a discussion about this, Ms. Shepherd.”

  I saw him as I ran, his shadows long and large against the floors, the walls, and the things we ran past. I saw those spidery limbs and the wicked fingers that had so casually dismembered a man, right in front of my eyes.

  Panic burned in my blood.

  Somewhere in the darkness, I still heard the clash of Tarahiel’s blade, the foul gibbering of whatever creatures Lorne had left to fight her. We were alone.

  I felt the Gaunt Man’s oily gaze on me, as if by sight alone he could claim, could possess.

  The scratchy sound of a record player, hidden somewhere in the darkness started up.

  For seven long years I’ve been in prison,

  For seven long more I have to stay;

  Just for knocking a man down in the alley

  Taking his gold watch away.

  No. I fought back tears at the thought of being imprisoned in this dark place, waiti
ng here until the shadowy monster came to… use me, however he saw fit.

  We kept going, running around one of the aisle’s corners, Simon at the fastest hobble I thought anyone could muster. If we hurried—

  There. The open door lay in front of us, just yards away. I turned to Simon, the beginning of a smile on my lips.

  “Are you certain then?” The discordant, fetid words burnt my ears. “Can we not be as friends?”

  “No!” I stopped in place, next to a stack of milk crates and let Simon catch up. “You lied to me!” Fury and pain both burned in my words.

  “So be it, then. Pity.”

  Before the last foul syllable rolled from that darkness, the coat racks next to me fell over, as if moved by some unseen hand. One of the spears that had rested there leapt away from the others and sliced through the air.

  I jumped back, but Simon never saw the spear. It lanced through his already wounded leg and tore deep into his muscle.

  He screamed.

  “No!” I leapt toward him.

  “You have seen what suffering I have at my beck and call, Ms. Shepherd.” Smug satisfaction wove through those hateful words. “Do you require a reminder?”

  I supported Simon, who grunted in pain, “Go. Just run.”

  “Yeah, fucking fuck that.”

  “Language,” he choked.

  I let the Wind tear through me, behind me. Every scrap of my will focused on the door. I pumped my legs, pushing like a madwoman.

  Just the door. Just get there.

  “Pain is merely the first of these lessons,” the infernal horror promised. “Shall I show you again?”

  This time, when the spear came for me, I expected the play. Almost instantly, I had my hand up and the Seal of Oeriim burst into even brighter flame.

  That spear struck my wall of Wind and fell aside.

  A wave of tiredness slipped over me. I almost laughed. Tired didn’t even begin to cover it. Alicia had warned me about pushing things too hard, and I felt certain I’d crossed that line hours ago.

  Cold and darkness.

  The Gaunt Man swirled around us, all mist and shadow.

  I felt those eyes again, felt his talons caress me as he drifted by.

  “Faster,” Simon urged.

  Five steps. Almost there.

  I pushed faster.

  “Do you know what I’d like, Ms. Shepherd?”

  I felt his hands again, moving along my back, his breath on the back of my neck. I almost retched at the oily sensation of it, the filth of it.

  The Wind picked up around me, helping carry me forward.

  “I don’t care!” I pushed harder, as hard as I could.

  Simon couldn’t help, not after that spear reduced him to dead weight.

  “Key,” my mentor rasped breathlessly. “I gotta get it out of the door.”

  “I’ll tell you, Ms. Shepherd. I’ll tell you exactly what I desire.”

  “FUCK YOU!” I screamed at the filthy darkness, as we bore down upon the door, full speed.

  Simon grabbed for the key, grasped it, and pulled it free.

  “Liz!” Rehl stood on the other side of that doorway and stared through. He stepped forward and held out a hand to me.

  “Ms. Shepherd!” the creature cried, those words a baleful perversion. “Would you kindly remove—”

  “No! Oh, God, no!” Simon tried to grab at the edge of the door.

  In that moment, I didn’t care if he fell; he was going through. Let us both fall, just get inside! my mind yammered.

  “—Mr. Girard from my premises?”

  We fell inside and rolled in a heap onto Rehl. For a moment, I lay there, my mind processing what I’d heard.

  Oh. A favor. He asked me a favor… and I… Oh, fuck no! No, no, no… Simon had seen it coming, but he couldn’t stop me.

  I scrambled to my feet and stared back into the vulgar shadows of that place. There, in sharp silhouette, stood Mister Lorne, a thin old man, exactly the way I’d seen him the very first day we met.

  “Thank you, Ms. Shepherd.” His voice oozed with the honey sweet drawl of the very deep south. “I thought you might see reason.”

  “No.” I shook my head wildly, frantically, tears in my eyes. My wrists felt cold, so cold, and I stared down at them.

  Shackles like rime, like gossamer ice, spread around my wrists like frost.

  Then they faded from sight.

  “Yes.” I heard the leprous smile on the Gaunt Man’s face. “Thank you, Ms. Shepherd. You performed admirably.”

  “Elizabeth,” Simon struggled to his feet, using his cane. “What have we done?”

  “I’ll see you soon, Ms. Shepherd.” The Gaunt Man turned and walked into the darkness. “Quite soon indeed.”

  The door slammed behind him and sent a burst of chill air through the attic.

  “Liz?” Rehl glanced at me, not understanding.

  I fell to my knees and screamed, half mad with fury and frustration.

  In the end, it had all been for nothing.

  Endgame

  At the end, the world was draped in shadows.

  I’d been dreaming. I felt certain of strange, gaunt things. Yet I couldn’t recall them.

  Sounds, somewhere in the shadows.

  I awoke in the canopy bed and blinked away haunted dreams. I heard someone else shuffling about, but to be honest, I had no idea who it was.

  “I assume an ice giant stomped on my back,” I croaked to whoever puttered around the attic. “As in, full on Norse giant.” Friend, foe, it didn’t matter much. The way I felt, an average kitten could score a crit and knock me out.

  I rolled over and swung my legs to the floor. As I pushed myself up, I felt certain that someone had replaced my spine with a rubber garden hose. I groaned, put my elbows to my knees, and hung my head in my hands. Then, and only then did I notice the bracelet on my wrist. Constructed of braided leather, it held several uniquely wrought beads.

  One of those beads had been inscribed with the Aegis of Dudael.

  I examined the bracelet for a moment, then returned to my suffering.

  “Every saving throw.” I shook my head. “I don’t know how, but I must’ve failed every single saving throw.”

  “Abriel tells me she warned ya.” Simon stepped over, dragging over the rolling chair from the desk. He held a steaming cup of wonderfulness.

  “If that’s coffee, I’m ready to officially admit that you were right about everything.” I reached for it with both hands as he gave me the mug.

  “I don’t need you to admit it.” He chuckled. “Although a

  signed affidavit might be nice.”

  Oh, Heaven. I had never tasted anything as fantastically wonderful as that cup of coffee.

  Simon sat across from me and let me get a few sips in before he spoke again. “Rufus called it lēthargia. He was all about the Latin.”

  “Poetic soul.” I nodded. “What did he call leth… leth-whatever?”

  “The exhaustion that came after he used his,” Simon’s lips quirked up in a smile, “Grace.”

  “That word is so much better.” I took a sip of my coffee. “I don’t know why you didn’t just stick with that one from the beginning.”

  “The arcane business is filled with people who want to tell you what words mean. Or people who want you to believe that certain things are hard and fast rules.” He shrugged. “I was just trying to give you the flexibility to learn things for yourself without getting all messed up in someone else’s rules.”

  “Because of the angels?” I sat up straighter, though I made certain not to spill the deliciousness in my hand. “Because you didn’t want me to get weird ideas about angels and all that kind of stuff?”

  “Angels are real.” He spoke firmly, seriously. “In the exact same way a thousand other pieces of weirdness in this world are real.” He favored me with a smile. “Every bit as real as fairies, I ’spose.”

  “Ah,” I gave him a slightly guilty smile. “It sounds like
you might have heard about a few of my adventures.”

  “I had more’n three days to talk with your friends.” He raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Three days?” I shook my head. “That’s insane.” It also explained why I felt like I was starving to death. “But they’re all okay?” The idea that we had all made it out alive seemed extraordinarily lucky.

  “No.” He shook his head. “None of you are okay. I’m a little worried that none of you will ever be okay again.” He paused. “But we’ll talk about that.”

  “But they were okay enough to talk to you. No one’s dead?”

  “No one’s dead.” Simon leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “We all had a chat. Abriel and I in particular had a nice long talk. She’s never been one to hide anything from me.”

  “Alicia.” I looked at him. “She told you everything?”

  “Abriel did.” He sighed. “You and I got a lotta fat to chew. Alicia didn’t exactly take up that token in the method I intended.”

  “You intended Alicia to take it up?” I felt confused.

  “I intended to be present when you took it up.” He sighed. “There were some things that should have been done differently.” He gestured at his left side, where I knew many tattoos lay beneath his flannel shirt.

  “I see.” I frowned just a bit. “Is this going to be a problem?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” Simon growled. “This is my fault. I should’ve told your old man exactly what I intended. Instead, as I was not around, he made assumptions. He had no way to know.”

  “But she’s not in any danger?”

  “Not danger exactly.” He vacillated one hand. “The lines between where ‘Alicia’ ends and ‘Abriel’ begins are pretty fuzzy.” He paused. “I need to look into it. There may be nothing to worry about at all.”

  “But,” I winced, “they told you everything.”

  “Oh, I ’spect each one of them missed a thing or two. But I’ve spoken with all of them now. I have the picture.”

  “I see.” A flicker of worry ignited in my mind. Simon remained a man of secrets. What would it mean that I had given so many of them away to my friends?

  “Anyway, after bouts of lēthargia, Rufus always gorged himself. One time I thought the man might eat an entire ham.” Simon grinned.

 

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