Blood Heir

by Ilona Andrews

  We turned down 17th street, heading straight into Unicorn Lane.

  “What happened with the Beast Lord?” I asked.

  “The usual,” Derek said.

  Derek Gaunt, chatty Cathy. “Could you elaborate?”

  “We have three days to conclude our business in the city,” Zahar told me. “If we overstay our welcome, there will be consequences nobody will like.”

  If we survived, Derek would leave in three days.

  “Not a lot of time,” someone said behind me.

  “It’s enough,” Derek said.

  We were a hundred feet into Unicorn Lane when Derek picked up the beggar’s scent and the nearest lamppost sprouted teeth and claws and tried to eat his face.

  17

  The portal measured about six feet wide and ten feet tall. It wavered, its edges ragged and glowing softly, hidden deep inside a ruined parking garage. Inside the portal a wide plain stretched, awash with green grasses, and in the middle of it, a good couple of miles off, a house rose on a low hill.

  Around me the shapeshifters formed a circle, all still human. It had taken us half an hour to get to this spot, and they paid for it with blood. Their flesh wounds knitted closed, but one of the men had a broken arm, and one of the women, a tall redhead, had taken a giant insect pincher to the abdomen. She was breathing in short, shallow gasps. I was pretty sure her intestines were lacerated.

  “What is this?” the other woman asked. “Is this an illusion? It doesn’t smell like an illusion.”

  It smelled like the steppe, of grass, and wind, and water meandering from a hidden stream.

  “It’s the home of the man we’re looking for,” Derek said. “It’s his refuge. He always was a coward.”

  “I don’t understand,” a short male shapeshifter said. “If we go through this, where are we going to end up? Is this someplace far away but on this planet?”

  They looked at me. Apparently, I was the designated tear-in-the-fabric-of-reality expert.

  “I don’t know,” I told them. “It could be. It could also be a naturally occurring pocket of deep magic or a crafted realm, something a powerful being made for themselves.”

  “He isn’t that powerful,” Derek said. “Most likely he found it, and he’s squatting there.”

  “Or,” I told him, “he may have made a deal with whoever crafted it, and the moment we go through it, they’ll dump a meteor shower on our heads.”

  “Are we going in?” Zahar asked.

  “I’m going in,” I told them. “I can better protect myself from magic. I’ll tell you if it’s safe.”

  They would follow me. The ma’avirim hadn’t found this hidey hole, because the house wasn’t on fire, but Derek knew they would be coming. If we could find it, they could too, and leaving shapeshifters by the entrance to face Moloch’s priests alone would be stupid.

  “Single file,” Derek said. “Once we’re through, we may have to run. Nia, how’s the stomach?”

  “Could be better,” the injured shapeshifter said.

  “Krish,” Derek said to the man next to her, “if she slows down, pick her up and carry her.”

  Krish nodded.

  The shapeshifters formed a column behind Derek, and I had a vision of a wolf pack padding one after another through the wilderness.

  I blinked my sensate vision on. A ward surrounded the gap, a narrow column of tense magic. No surprise there.

  I stepped forward into the magic field. Pressure clamped me, piercing my eyes with painful needles. The spell crunched me, trying to break my defenses. I concentrated, pushing outward. Using a power word would crack it like a hammer hitting a walnut, but I had no idea what the day would bring and my magic barely had four hours to recover.

  “Do you need help?” Derek asked.

  “No.”

  The ward chewed on me. Thin veins of dim green light formed in the empty air—the spell trying to expel me. I held my magic shield. Defensive wards came in different flavors. Some were walls, barriers you had to break through with sheer force. Some, like this one, were designed to cause pain and squeeze the intruder until they retreated. This wall type had to be shattered. Most people thought that the squeezing type couldn’t be broken. Most people were wrong.

  “What are we waiting for?” someone asked behind me.

  “Quiet,” Derek ordered.

  The ward squeezed and squeezed, the pressure grinding on me. It would keep squeezing until it broke me or ran out of power. Pain was temporary. It would pass like the water of a moving river.

  The green veins flashed with white. With a sharp clap, the ward crumbled around me, its magic exhausted. The pain vanished.

  “I just broke his ward. If he didn’t know we were here before, he knows now.”

  Derek nodded.

  I jumped through the gap and landed in the grass. The soft stalks reached just above my knees. Sunshine spilled from an impossibly high sky. The air carried scents of herbs and grass. A bee flew by me.

  I waited to see if the ground under my feet would open up and swallow me whole. It didn’t.

  Ten seconds. Fifteen. Long enough.

  I jogged toward the house. Behind me, Derek leaped through the gap. In a few breaths, his wolves overtook me, fanning out in front of me. Nia caught up to me, her face flushed.

  “Do you need me to slow down?”

  “I need you to speed up,” she said. “At this rate, I’ll be old by the time we get there.”

  I picked up the pace. We ran through the plain unhindered.

  We were a hundred and fifty yards from the house when my sensate vision picked up another ward, a translucent dome of green, sheathing the structure and the hill it sat on. Dense currents of magic swirled on its surface like colors on a soap bubble. This one wouldn’t be that easy to break. Letting it chew on me this close to the house would also make me an excellent target.

  I pulled Dakkan out and sliced across my left forearm. A few drops of blood coated the spear’s tip. The Shinar wasn’t the only family who used blood as a catalyst, so I wouldn’t be giving myself away.

  Ahead of me, Derek halted. The ward should have been invisible to him, so he must’ve sensed its magic. The two werewolves on his left and right missed their cue and ran headfirst into the spell. Green pulsed from the impacts. I ran past Derek without altering my pace and stabbed Dakkan into the ward. My blood sliced through the magic like a knife through warm butter. The ward shattered. I kept running.

  A hundred yards to the house.

  The grasses in front of me rippled.

  Derek sprinted. One second he was behind me, the next he picked me up and charged ahead.

  “What…”

  Derek leaped. Below us an emerald green serpent the size of a fire hose reared from the grass.

  “I’m sensing a theme here,” I told him.

  “Mhm. He likes green.”

  Behind us, wolves howled. Derek ran so fast, it felt like we were flying. I wanted out of his arms. Out.

  “Should we help?”

  “No. They’re having fun.”

  His definition of fun needed some work.

  He leapt left, right, dashed up the hill in a dizzying sprint, and set me down in front of the enormous double doors. A stone hall rose in front of us, its grey walls thick and towering.

  Derek pounded his fist on the wood.

  Below, Derek’s wolves, all in warrior forms, attacked the serpents. As I watched, a huge reddish beast jerked a coiling green body into the air and tore it in two.

  “I know you’re in there,” Derek bellowed, “Open these damn doors or I’ll break them.”

  The doors swung open with a soft creak. A man stepped forward. He was perfectly average; average height, average build, neither pale nor tan, with non-descript features and a bald head. Only his eyes were remarkable, filled with intelligence and slight contempt, as if he were the only genius in a world full of idiots and he had come to terms with his fate.

  “Well,” Saiman said.
“I suppose it had to happen sooner or later.”

  I sat on an oversized ergonomic couch that curved around a glass coffee table. The glass was thick and cut in a sinuous curve. The base of the table was an S of black steel set on its side. Saiman sat on an identical white couch across the coffee table. Derek parked himself behind me with his arms crossed. His crew had taken positions throughout the cavernous stone hall, some by the front doors, some by the two hallways leading deeper into the keep, and a couple by the floor-to-ceiling windows rising to the high ceilings. Above us, a circular chandelier of plain white metal paid homage to its medieval origins.

  The building was pure castle, with stone walls, an enormous fireplace, and massive beams of aged wood. The furnishings were the epitome of pre-Shift ultra-modern luxury. The duality that was Saiman.

  Saiman studied me. “Fascinating bone structure…”

  His face rippled, the bones shifting and reforming, stretching his skin like it was a rubber mask. When shapeshifters changed forms, it was nearly instant. Saiman took his time, reshaping and fine-tuning. The whole thing was revolting. I’d seen him do it before, so I knew it was coming, but it still made me want to vomit.

  “I saw you die,” Derek said. “I was at your funeral. I watched them close the casket and lower you into the ground. Why aren’t you dead?”

  “You don’t have to sound so disappointed.” His face was still crawling, and his voice sounded distorted.

  “Kate mourned for you,” Derek continued.

  “I cannot be responsible for her emotional attachment.”

  Asshole. He hadn’t changed a bit.

  Derek leaned forward, menace rolling off him in a heavy wave. “You let her think you were dead. She saved you.”

  “And for that, I am eternally grateful. However, I repaid that favor. I settled my debts before my carefully arranged demise. I don’t owe anything to anyone.”

  “They should have put that on your tombstone,” Derek said.

  “No, I rather like my stele as it is.”

  Saiman’s features finally stopped moving. A close facsimile of me sat on the other couch, wearing my face and Saiman’s clothes. He took a mirror off the coffee table, checked his reflection, and frowned. It didn’t quite match.

  “Why did you fake your death?” Derek asked.

  “Because there is a great difference between being renowned and notorious. Prior to Roland’s involvement, I was respected for my expertise. I was a businessman.”

  A businessman who had charged exorbitant fees for his magic expertise and amassed a fortune in currency and magical items. None of it had helped him in the end.

  “After Roland took an interest in my blood, I became a victim, someone to be pitied and rescued. My credibility plummeted. I have no desire to remain a man who couldn’t protect himself, yet I have too many contacts here to pick up and start over. This was a perfect compromise.”

  Saiman was an egotist of the highest order, someone who detested altruism in all its forms. He maintained that friendship was a weakness and love was a delusion, a view that let him justify the utterly selfish way in which he lived his life.

  The realization that he survived the encounter with my grandfather only because Kate took pity on him was simply too much for him to deal with. Instead of adjusting or altering his philosophy, he had faked his death, run away, and hid here, in this pocket of separate reality.

  “I will see the box now,” I said.

  The fake me tilted her head, trying to mirror my movements. He liked to shock and keep his opponents off balance. Most people would be uneasy when confronted with an exact replica of themselves, but there were things about me he could never duplicate. No matter how much he tried, he would always be a pale imitation.

  “And who do I have the pleasure of addressing?” he asked.

  “Someone who broke all of your wards.”

  “Touché.” Saiman smiled with my lips. “Beauty and power. An attractive combination. Do you have a preference in your partners? A type?”

  Ugh.

  Derek leaned forward, about to jump over the couch, and I put my hand over his forearm. I had to cut Saiman off at the knees, or this would degenerate fast. My expression snapped into my hard Dananu mask.

  Saiman shifted, thrown off balance. It wasn’t my expression alone, it was the transformation from a normal person to Princess of Shinar. It was in my eyes, in the lines of my body, in the authority written on my face.

  My voice went cold, suffused with magic. “You forget yourself, jǫtunn.”

  He tried to match my gaze and squirmed. That’s right. I know your true form. I’ve seen it.

  I held my stare. Silence filled the room.

  “You mentioned a box?” Saiman raised his eyebrows.

  “Time is short, jǫtunn.”

  “I have a name,” he said pointedly. “And I’m a businessman. If, hypothetically, a valued client entrusted me with an item they wanted sold …”

  I tossed a small bag onto the coffee table. It made a clinking sound as it landed.

  Saiman reached for it, pulled the drawstrings open, and gently shook the contents out onto the table. Five blood-red rubies as big as my thumbnail clattered onto the glass, each with a six-rayed pale star shimmering on the surface.

  “Natural stones mined in Burma.”

  Star gemstones took enchantment much better than regular gems. Their magic reserve was significantly larger, and the enchantments lasted longer.

  Saiman stared at the two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars on his table. Money was the fastest way to cut through his bullshit, and time was short.

  “I’ll see the box now,” I repeated.

  He picked up a ruby, looked at in the light, set it down, and walked deeper into the house.

  Derek leaned toward me. “You paid him?”

  “It’s faster.”

  “Or I can put his head into my mouth.”

  “That doesn’t seem sanitary. Wouldn’t you taste their hair? Is that just a thing you do because you get bored in Alaska?”

  Saiman returned carrying a parcel wrapped in purple velvet. He set it on the table with a flourish.

  I pulled the velvet free. A small box rested within its folds, shaped like a classic treasure chest. It was opaque and blueish white, with a cross embossed on its lid. The surface of the box appeared soft, almost ivory like, but the sheen that played on its walls was distinctly metallic.

  My heart skipped a beat. I had seen this hybrid of bone and metal before. I passed my hand over the lid. Magic nipped at my fingers. Not human. Metal fed with magically grown animal bone.

  Derek stared at the box, his face unreadable. Kate’s sword looked very similar to this. It was made from her grandmother’s bones. Telling him this wasn’t carved from one of Kate’s relatives would blow my cover.

  It wasn’t made from the bones of my family, but I would recognize the workmanship anywhere. I had to have this box.

  I reached into my bag, pulled a gold bar out, and set it on the table, raising the stakes to three hundred grand. I carried more rubies on me, but there was no reason to give them to Saiman. Adding the gold bar indicated that I had appraised the box, decided its worth, and was willing to pay a fair price. Billiot was hard-pressed for money. Saiman would take it.

  Saiman studied the table. “Triple it.”

  “It’s not worth that.”

  “Then I regretfully decline.”

  “This box has a guardian. The guardian has killed Pastor Haywood and Professor Walton. It would have killed Billiot himself, if he hadn’t found a way to hide from it.”

  Saiman shrugged. “My defenses are regenerating as we speak.”

  I looked at Derek. “Is the offer to put his head in your mouth still open?”

  “Always.” Derek’s voice told me that he would really enjoy it.

  Saiman rolled his eyes.

  I leaned forward. “I was told you were a smart man. I see the rumors were wrong. I’ll explain slowly. T
ry to follow. You have the magic box. It’s guarded by a divine beast. The beast is ancient and tireless. It exists for a single purpose: to punish the thieves of its treasure and restore it to its rightful place. It will find this place, it will shred your pitiful wards like tissue paper, and then it will carve your heart out of your chest.”

  Saiman sat up straighter.

  I pointed at Derek. “He doesn’t like you. He has six shapeshifters with him, and he is now in your house. He wants to kill the guardian of the box. If he takes the box from you, the guardian will come to him.”

  Saiman glanced at Derek.

  “Moloch has been reborn in Arizona. He also wants this box, and he has sent his ma’avirim into the city. They’re currently scouring Atlanta looking for you.”

  Saiman startled. He’d heard of the ma’avirim, and they had made an impression.

  “I don’t have the time to draw you a chart, so just imagine all the intersecting lines and realize where they intersect. Sell the box to me and solve all of your problems.”

  The veneer of arrogance was gone. “How much time do I have?”

  “I think the answer to that question is none,” Zahar said, looking out the window.

  I got up and went to the window. A thundercloud boiled through the portal, an angry black mass backlit with red. It churned and roiled, and within its depths raged a brilliant white fire. The Ma’avirim Firestorm. My heart sank.

  This wasn’t a single priest. This was much worse. I’d underestimated Moloch, and now everyone with me would pay for it.

  I had to stop them at any cost. If I let them through, they would incinerate the house and everyone inside. Nobody, not even Derek, would survive that fire.

  “Stay inside,” I said. “All of you.”

  I headed to the door, digging in my bag just in case. Don’t follow me, don’t follow me…

  Derek murmured a few words to the shapeshifters and followed.

  I turned around and walked backwards, facing him but still moving towards the door. “Remember that promise you made? About sitting it out when an elder power shows up?”

  “Sure.” He showed no signs of slowing down.