Blood River (The Ruby Callaway Trilogy Book 3)

by D. N. Erikson

  If my reading of the fates is correct, then August 4, 2018 will be our final day together. And if you are reading this, many years have passed since then, during which you have grown far beyond a hunter—or a killer.

  You have transformed into a truth seeker—and from that, there is no return. Find and know they true self, Ruby. For a journey to the source is where your story ends.

  You are not a chosen one nor a hero, Ruby Callaway. There is no such thing as permanent salvation. Only the ability to ease the world’s suffering—and your own—for a distant, fleeting moment.

  When the time comes, Ruby, you will have to kill the father. Even if it means risking the hatred of the son.

  THE ORACLE OF DELPHI (PEARL)

  “Could’ve at least given me some lotto numbers.” I folded the weathered note before slipping it back into my jacket pocket. Reflecting on what it might mean, I watched the scenery turn a dust-swept, southwestern orange. The buildings here barely clawed their way past the five-story mark. Scattered government vehicles lined the streets, responding to the mess at the Cathedral of St. Peter. Fortunately, Serenity’s clinic sat outside their dragnet.

  Memories flashed past as the autocab raced through the pothole laced streets.

  Being reborn in the Weald of Centurions—and, upon my escape, Pearl waiting for me at the train station in 1879. Training in the forest. Breaking branches, only to be forced to run the course again, until I was silent.

  Years of training channeled toward an unspoken destiny that would end at an unknown source.

  The decades rolled by like a flipbook, until they hit that day in the Phoenix suburbs, in the housing development surrounded by blue sky and endless auburn desert. Pinned down, outgunned, set up by the “client.” And Pearl—the Oracle of Delphi—had known the outcome, willingly sentencing herself to death.

  And me to the internment camp. I’d chosen to stay and fight, knowing the odds were futile. Even with the wisps showing me an exit.

  Had I been privy to the full picture, I might have left.

  My fingers coiled into a tight, angry fist. Truth seeker my ass. If Pearl was still around, we’d have a long talk at the end of my shotgun. Then we’d see what truths tumbled out.

  Here were my current truths.

  Roark was missing, courtesy of Harcourt’s antics.

  Pearl wanted me to travel to the source and temporarily end the world’s suffering. And to do that, I’d have to kill Malcolm Roark—even if his son protested.

  I reflected on how the pieces fit together as the autocab cut a sharp turn around a faded mailbox.

  A journey to the source is where your story ends.

  In the legends, the Tributary was the origin of all magical life—the Realm from which all the others had flowed. Maybe the myth was true, and that was the source I needed to find. It was just too much of a coincidence to believe otherwise.

  In any event, it gave me more incentive to crack Harcourt’s enchantment and track him down. That bastard would have a lot of explaining to do, once I found him.

  The autocab stopped abruptly and cheerily announced that payment was due. I swiped the phone over the credit reader. Instead of opening, the doors locked.

  “Sorry, Ruby Callaway,” the digital voice said. “You are wanted for questioning by the FBI. Please wait for the authorities to arrive. Have a nice day.”

  “That’s impossible.” I swiped the phone again, receiving an angry series of red blinking lights for my troubles. “I’m on the damn payroll as their consultant.”

  “Records indicate your working relationship with the FBI has been terminated as of 8:46 AM Mountain Standard Time today. Grounds for termination include improperly accessing an agent’s terminal, illegal release of classified financial records, and falsifying credentials. Please wait for the—”

  I racked the shotgun and fired it at the display at the front of the cab. A shower of sparks erupted, the voice drifting into digital death. The autocab’s locks groaned open, freeing me from my would-be prison.

  “I could’ve just paid,” I said, shaking my head as I exited the ruined vehicle. With a shrug to no one, I wa;led toward Serenity’s clinic, the all-glass exterior reflecting the gray morning light. “But you just had to see if I would bend.”

  Malcolm would find that I wouldn’t bend easily.

  But that didn’t mean I couldn’t break.

  5

  Hour 1

  “You really shouldn’t be running around for a couple weeks, minimum.” Serenity Cole shook her head in disbelief, revealing her sharp elven ears amidst her cascading waves of black hair ever-so-briefly. She gnawed at her bottom lip as her brown eyes scanned my chart. “But I told you that when I saw you the other day. Did you listen?”

  The question was rhetorical, but I said, “I’ve never been the best listener.”

  “The biggest surprise of my day,” Serenity said in a deadpan monotone.

  The results of the preliminary blood tests, suffice to say, weren’t encouraging. Even to a former elven princess who disliked me very much. Which was funny: even though she harbored an intense dislike for me, she couldn’t refuse me treatment. Although we were becoming kind of frenemies. She’d helped me reverse engineer the essence suppression vaccine.

  Then again, that was part of her nature. Goodness literally emanated from her.

  Made me wonder what people felt when they crossed paths with me. Whatever it was, I doubted it was warm or fuzzy.

  “Can’t you find someone else to help you?” Serenity asked. I even sensed concern.

  “This isn’t really a job I can outsource,” I said, kicking my heels against the worn exam table. Serenity rolled her eyes and I stopped.

  “And what job would that be?”

  “You going to help?” I gave her a wolfish smile. “The field’s a little rough for a princess.”

  Her eyes narrowed, the wisps around her head turning slightly pink. That was about as frazzled as she got. Instead of responding with an insult, she took my hand and touched her fingers against my wrist. My pulse could sense the powerful healing magic that flowed through her veins.

  Too bad she couldn’t just channel that white magic right into my weary bones. But I’d about worn out all the stopgap measures at my disposal. Only true rest—the kind that I didn’t have, what with the clock ticking down—would fully restore my health.

  The wristwatch beeped, indicating that I had eleven hours left to pursue Harcourt’s note.

  “Have somewhere to be, Ruby?”

  “That’s why I’m here.” I gave her a grim smile. “To get me running at full speed again.”

  “You know that’s not possible.” Her light brown skin bunched up at the nose. Actual worry. Elves. They weren’t like the rest of us. “You’re really not going to listen to me, are you?”

  “I could insult your intelligence and say yes.”

  “I appreciate your remarkable restraint.” Serenity walked across the plain room, sensible shoes tapping against the chipped tile. After rummaging through cabinets for a minute, she returned bearing a cluster of syringes. “These booster shots should keep you going—for the time being.”

  “That’s a lot of needles,” I said, staring at the bundle. “Tell me I don’t have to jam them all in my arm just to survive.”

  “You’re out of the woods as far as imminent death is concerned.” She pushed her fingers against my neck a little rougher than necessary. “But you’ll be lethargic if you don’t take one every two Which, in your line of work, is good as dead.”

  “Point taken.”

  Without warning, she took one of the needles and jammed it into the crook of my arm.

  The phone rang, and Serenity removed her fingers from my neck, apparently satisfied that I wasn’t going to keel over. She placed the remaining half dozen needles on the paper covering the exam table. Then she went to answer the phone.

  I smirked as I counted the syringes. She must’ve checked my watch. Just enough to keep m
e going during my secret mission. Sliding off the table, I read the wisps surrounding her head. They were quite agitated by elven standards.

  “Is there something else?” I asked.

  Her expression was a mix of anger and fear. “It seems the FBI is outside, ready to pay us a visit. But I’m sure you know nothing about that, Ruby. Right?”

  That was quick. Then again, half the Bureau was probably “investigating” the incident at the Cathedral of St. Peter. If recently deceased Supervisor Emma Janssen’s word could be trusted, a ton of federal agents remained firmly in MagiTekk’s pocket.

  And some of them were coming to retrieve me for Malcolm.

  “You have a back exit,” I said, more a statement than a question. I’d slipped out the back during the time loop. Hadn’t helped me survive then, but maybe that knowledge would prove useful now.

  “If anything happens to the clinic—”

  “Don’t worry, Princess,” I said, smiling as she glared back. “Everything’s gonna be gine. They don’t care about you.”

  “You’re a scourge, Ruby.”

  “Shouldn’t have fucked that vampire, Serenity.” I watched the tips of her exposed ears flush with shameful embarrassment. Our paths would never have crossed if she’d just stayed in the Elven Cliffs. But curiosity could corrupt even in the incorruptible. “Actions have consequences.”

  “My life was easy before three weeks ago,” Serenity said with a grimace.

  “You charted this path long before then,” I said. “Back in Seattle.”

  Serenity gave me a final glare, then hurried to the cabinets. She took a larger needle out from the drawer. “For emergencies.”

  “What the hell is that?”

  “You’ll find out if you have to use it.” She handed me the syringe, which has a point stretching from my finger to the base of my wrist. “I’ll stall them out front.”

  “How kind of you, doctor.” I slipped the extra needle into my pocket, careful not to jab myself. Then I caught the door behind her and headed the opposite way. “Give them your best Princess smile.”

  She mumbled a vitriolic response unbefitting of a princess or an elf. I rushed around the corner, slipping past a narrow gauntlet of stacked boxes to reach the back exit. The dry Phoenix air sucker punched me as I headed outside. Low peals of thunder roiled in the distance, hinting at an oncoming storm.

  Past the dumpsters and through the chain link fence, I spotted two black sedans parked along the pitted road. Eight men in black suits exited the vehicles. Six of them strode toward the clinic’s front entrance, while two stayed behind. They stood straight, hands on their service weapons.

  Holding down the fort in case I got past the first wave.

  I headed for the cover of the dumpster, weighing the options at my disposal. Leaving a trail of bodies would bring MagiTekk’s boot down upon Serenity’s throat. No plausible deniability there. The clinic would likely be in ashes within the hour.

  I dug into the pocket of the leather jacket, pulling out the cracked data cube. This was my backdoor into the FBI’s system. Access to valuable intel awaited inside its digital walls. But, right now, it was more useful as a distraction.

  Glancing around the edge of the dumpster, I gauged the distance to the opposite sidewalk.

  With a strong heave, I tossed the cube over the agents’ heads. It shattered across the street, puncturing the dusty tranquility. I watched as the agents whirled around, guns drawn.

  And then I slipped through a gap in the rusty chain link, racing up the street and around the corner. My phone buzzed as I sprinted.

  Alice had found a video clip, and sent it to the major media outlets.

  And, oh yeah: there was someone who could crack the enchantment on the note.

  But they wouldn’t come cheap.

  Then again, nothing these days ever did.

  I checked over my shoulder before entering the crumbling building. What had once been a magnificent home worth north of a million dollars was now a ruin in danger of being reclaimed by the desert. I gingerly let the door shut behind me, but it still sounded like a creaky gunshot.

  Dusty light streamed from the cracks in the yellowed ceiling.

  One hand on the shotgun, ready to draw, I made my way into the cavernous dining room. The place settings were still out, covered in a thick layer of grime. Ready for a meal that would never be served.

  “You are the half-vampire’s friend?” The voice came from behind me. Instinctually, I spun around, shotgun already drawn. The woman didn’t react. “Yes, I see that you are her friend.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She told me that you carried a big gun.” From the woman’s aura, I sensed she was a sorceress—and a powerful one at that. “I am Aiko.”

  “Ruby.”

  She gestured for me to sit at the table. I did, but brushed away some dust before doing so.

  “Young Alice explained my fee?”

  “She only said you were expensive.”

  Aiko sat down across from me. Her black hair was streaked with gray. It hung over her eyes, giving her an air of deceptive mystery.

  “That is true. But I do not traffic in money.”

  “Name your price.” I removed Harcourt’s note and pushed the thick piece of stationary across the dirty table. “It’s urgent.”

  “A woman who wastes no time with negotiation.” Aiko gave no indication that she was going to pick the note up. “I like that.”

  “Glad we’re on the same page.” I nodded toward the paper. “If you’d be so kind.”

  “You will deliver me payment later, then.”

  “If you say so.”

  “The enchantment seal on this is complex,” Aiko said, still not moving.

  “You haven’t even touched it.”

  “One does not rely on their senses when they achieve true mastery of their craft.” She looked at me from behind her dark, streaked hair. “But I can perform such theater if you would prefer.”

  “I just want results.”

  “Then you shall wait here.” Aiko plucked the note from the dust and left the room without further explanation. I wanted to call after her and ask, for how long, but it seemed like a pointless question that would be answered only with riddles.

  So, like a true slave to the Information Age, I pulled out my phone and checked the news. This time, however, the dopamine rush paid off: the media had already taken Alice’s story and ran with it. Sprinted down the street. Blasted it out of a damn cannon.

  The video clip was everywhere, showing grainy footage of FBI officials, MagiTekk’s CEO, and Donovan Marshall engaged in clandestine conversation within the bowels of the Cathedral of St. Peter.

  The irony was rich. MagiTekk had essentially been launched in the aftermath of a similarly grainy video: one of Kalos Aeon, half-demon extraordinaire, immolating a wave of murderous daywalking vamps. That their undoing would arise from something similar was poetic justice.

  I checked their stock. It was down more than 20%, and plummeting fast. The numbers were moving so quickly that even the internet was having trouble keeping up. At this rate, within the day, MagiTekk wouldn’t exist.

  Not that I had any delusions about that stopping Malcolm Roark. He—and MagiTekk—were still dangerous, even when they were bleeding out on the floor. I needed to drive a stake through their heart as soon as possible.

  My phone refreshed with more breaking news.

  MALCOLM ROARK ASSUMES CEO POSITION OF MAGITEKK IN STUNNING MOVE

  “What the hell?” My stomach turned over as I re-read the headline.

  I clicked the link, but details were sparse. In the wake of the scandal, MagiTekk’s current CEO, Eldric Dobson, had been relieved of his duties by a unanimous board vote. In his stead, the capable Malcolm Roark—described in the brief article as “imperious and orderly”—had assumed the role of interim CEO to steady the sinking ship.

  With mixed feelings, I skimmed the article again. This wasn’t quite the chang
e I had in mind. A quick glance back at the financial news showed that MagiTekk’s stock was stabilizing—still down heavy, but no longer in freefall. Investors were curious about this unexpected change in leadership.

  Malcolm had bought himself and the company that most valuable of resources: time.

  An addendum to the article indicated that Malcolm would address the media in a “few hours” with an “earth-shattering announcement.”

  That couldn’t be good.

  “It is done,” Aiko said, rescuing me from the tyranny of the 24-hour news cycle. She entered from the kitchen, note pinched between two fingers. “It is fortunate you brought this to me. This man cast a tricky enchantment upon the seal.”

  “Sounds like Harcourt.”

  “You can read the rest of his message upon the back.” Aiko placed the note before me and turned to exit.

  “About payment,” I said.

  “It will come, in time. The world is changing. Who knows what will be valuable in the coming days?”

  “Just decide what you want by day’s end,” I said. “And I’ll bring it to you.”

  “I will hold you to that, Ruby Callaway.” Aiko disappeared from the room like a wraith, off to some corner of the dilapidated house.

  Feeling surprisingly nervous, I reached for Harcourt’s card and turned it over.

  There was only one sentence on the back.

  Fortunately, it wasn’t open to interpretation.

  Finish the list, Ruby.

  6

  Hour 3

  They say old habits die hard. If that’s true, vengeful ones die harder. It didn’t take much to push me in the direction of the final three names. And the promise of learning more about the Tributary—and where Harcourt had sent Roark—was enough of an added carrot.

  I looked at the broken window and rubbed my bleeding hand from where Carrie Sanderson had clawed at me with her sharp nails. Phoenix stretched below, most of the tall buildings looking like miniatures. Up here, at near-penthouse levels, it was a long way down. A shattered Ming vase lay near the queen bed.