A cold breeze swept across the open street, ruffling my hair and causing me to shiver. I reached down to zip up my jacket, but as I did so, I caught sight of the medallion resting on my chest. The thing was aglow again, the needle appearing brighter than ever. It whirled around, like a racecar spinning out of control, blinking and beaming and lighting up the area around me. I turned my back to the building so as not to arouse suspicion, and as I did that, the medallion’s light began to settle, pointing in the direction of the building.
The medallion had become a compass once again, insisting I check out the building. The only thing I was unsure of was whether or not Damien Louse’s son was inside. Judging by the sudden activation of the compass, I would have guessed that he was.
I hoped I was right.
Tired and frustrated, I scuffed my way across the road and approached the gatehouse. Before I could reach the door, the security guard exercised his bravado, marching my way with one hand on his radio, the other held palm-outward and aimed at me. He was a small guy, with legs thinner than my arms and teeth brown enough to intrigue any ambitious dental nurse. “Hold right there, miss.”
“Have I done something wrong?” I asked, playing the innocent.
“There’s nobody due in, according to the visitor log. Why are you here?”
“Perhaps I work here.”
The man snapped his bony fingers three times in succession, ordering me like a dog. “Then let me see your ID, lady. Come on, quickly now. I don’t have all night.”
Taken aback by his unnecessary arrogance, I stood frozen in place. How could somebody be so eager to make a scene out of something as ordinary as a young woman approaching a building? Having a chip on his shoulder was one thing – hell, even overcompensating for lack of a certain something I understood – but this son of a bitch was just plain rude.
And I was just the girl to teach him a lesson.
Although I no longer had the strength of immortality, I was confident that I had learned a thing or two about fighting over the past thirty years. I also must have outweighed this guy by at least twenty pounds. All I had to do was get him somewhere quiet like the gatehouse, and then I could show him just how tough he really was – or wasn’t.
“I don’t have my ID,” I said calmly. “But if you’d let me make a phone call, I could have my superior come down to confirm my identity. But since I left my cell phone in my locker, maybe I could use your phone?”
The guard studied me. His bored expression swept over me like he wanted to dismiss me, to send me away and then probably tell his friends about tonight’s events, not without a degree of exaggeration. But his desire was overruled by the possibility, by doubt – by the question that ran through his mind, telling him to back off.
What if she’s telling the truth?
“All right,” he said, nodding his head toward the gatehouse. “Come on.”
Without hesitation, I went inside the small, messy room and stood with my back to the wall. It was cramped, and I didn’t want him getting too close to me. Not without his back turned, anyway.
He followed me inside, removed his cap and placed it on top of his dirty magazines. It was a poor attempt at hiding them, but I pretended I didn’t notice. Instead, I averted my gaze until he picked up the phone and dialed a number, and then rested a hand on his hip while scanning me up and down. “What’s your name?”
“Lucy Smith,” I said, giving him the first name that popped into my head.
The guard nodded and turned, looking out through the glass as he waited for an answer.
I had to act fast.
Dashing forward, I wrapped my forearm around his neck, restraining him from behind. I began to squeeze, putting pressure on his carotid arteries as he tried to squirm free. I was relieved to discover that he was even weaker than he looked – a pathetic excuse for a man.
As his skin turned a bluish-red, he stopped struggling and his weight fell into me. I lowered him gently to the ground, hung up the phone and made my way for the door, before an idea flashed into my mind. I went back to the desk, looking around at the series of buttons on the control panel. When I found the one that read: GATE, I hit it and watched with satisfaction as the wide metal gate slid open, unveiling my way through the open parking lot.
Not bad, Keira. Not bad at all.
Feeling a little more pleased with myself than I should have, I ran through the gate and toward the building. When I saw a group of three guys in uniforms climbing into a nearby car, I slowed to a walk so as not to attract suspicion, while peering down the top of my jacket at the medallion. It was telling me to keep going, angling off slightly to the right.
I obeyed.
By the time I made it around the corner and into an unlit area, I started to regret not having picked up the security guard’s keycard. He was bound to have access to most – if not all – of the building, and I could have hit myself for not thinking of it sooner. Sadly, it was too late to go back. By now, the three guys in the car would be on their way to the gatehouse, only to discover my handiwork.
I had to move.
The side-court had nothing but a door and a small, covered smoking area. I stopped and checked the medallion once more, just to make sure that I was heading in the right direction. When the needle continued to point forward, this time more accurately at the single fire door further along the wall, I slipped it back inside my jacket and carried on.
As I approached, the door sprang open. A figure came into view and I hugged my back to the wall beside it, watching as a man stepped out. He stopped right there, bending over and cupping his hands around a cigarette to shield it from the wind. When a puff of smoke blew out from under his baseball cap, he held the cigarette between his fingers and strolled across to the smoking shelter.
As fast as I could, I grabbed for the door, catching it under the tips of my fingers only a second before it could close. I slipped inside, pulling it shut behind me while trying to remain silent. I spun around, smelling nothing but stale smoke and seeing little through the blanket of darkness that stretched out before me.
The medallion lit the way, and as I reached down to grab it, it glowed even brighter than before. The shine of the needle intensified, pointing directly at the blackened area in front of me. Although I was weak and vulnerable, trespassing on a mage’s turf and caught in the dark, at least one thing was certain.
I was going the right way.
Chapter 18
I stayed mindful of my footing, taking one small, metal step at a time while I groped the railing and prayed I wouldn’t stumble. A fall like this could kill a human, I kept reminding myself, forcing me to take extra caution. The last thing I wanted was for the guard to come back and find my dead body, before taking the medallion for himself. Who knew what he might do with it, or who might take it from him?
Treading carefully in the dark, I pressed on until I saw a thin ray of light squeezing through a doorframe. I made my way over, clutching the medallion tight in my hand until I could peer inside. As I saw the empty chair and a row of monitors that ran the length of the room, I rapped lightly on the door and, when no answer came, I went inside.
The lights inside were bright enough to reveal my path, not to mention the mess that the man had left in this room. As I scanned the monitors up on the wall, I wondered why there were two security rooms. I assumed it was one for the parking lot and one for the interior of the building, and I suddenly felt a lot better for not having taken the keycard from the gatehouse – it probably wouldn’t do much for me now anyway.
Most of the screens showed people hard at work; some mindlessly tapping codes into their computers, others in group sessions and learning how to install alarm systems. The third screen from the left, however, gave me a heads-up that the guard was returning from his cigarette break, coming toward the door with a keychain in his hand.
I did my best to hide, maintaining my composure and trying not to panic. I reached for the nearest solid object – an empty as
htray that had probably outlived its usefulness since the smoking ban of ‘08 – and hid behind the door. I waited in silence, my heel tapping nervously on the floor as I heard the footsteps following my trail.
The guard was coming.
When the door began to creak open, I raised the ashtray high above my head and brought it down on the back of his skull. It struck the fleshy part just above his neck, knocking him to the floor, unconscious. I knelt immediately, panicking that I had killed him while feeling for a pulse. When I found one, I breathed a sigh of relief, took the keychain and the flashlight off his belt, and retraced my steps.
“Sorry,” I whispered to the guard, feeling bad. Hurting civilians wasn’t exactly my thing, but two guards in a row seemed to be causing problems for my conscience, running round and round and feeding off my guilt – even if the first guy did deserve it.
I scanned the perimeter, strategizing my next move. Heading back up the stairs would only take me back to square one, so I flicked on the flashlight, aimed the beam at the narrow corridor to my right, and then followed it down, keeping one eye on my compass. It told me that I was heading in the right direction, and for the first time today, I felt mild satisfaction.
The corridor exited onto some kind of storage basement, where row after row of boxes stacked up to over ten feet high. A dim light illuminated the back of the room, where two couches faced an old-fashioned TV, and the flashing images lit up the lounging area like bolts of lightning. I checked the medallion again, which pointed to the couch and then faded out.
Great.
I was on my own now, left to find the owner of this thing by myself. I aimed the flashlight at the couch and approached it carefully. “Hello?” I called out, taking step by cautious step. Knowing what kind of creatures lingered in the dark, I was reluctant to draw any unwanted attention. I wasn’t sure I could survive another creeper attack in mortal form.
“Hello?” I tried again, getting closer.
Suddenly, a figure shot up out of the dark, sitting bolt upright in the couch. A blanket covered the man, who hurriedly pulled it off his head and stumbled to his feet with his hands held defensively in front of him.
“W-Whoa. Please, no,” the young man said. He was small and pale, with black circles under his eyes and blonde hair that looked like a nest of straw. Stubble grew around his chin, starting to sprout into pinching-length. The clothes he wore were merely tattered rags, much like the blanket he’d frantically discarded.
“Calm down,” I said, shining the light in his eyes. “Who are you?”
“What’s it to you?” The man covered his eyes, trying to get a good look at me but failing. He moved back, edging up against the wall and cornering himself. If I were here to cause him harm, he would have just signed his death warrant.
“My name’s Keira Poe. I’ve come here looking for the son of Damien Louse.” I tottered closer and squinted, getting a good look at him. He seemed to be the right kind of age to have Damien Louse as a father. “That’s you, isn’t it?”
“That depends. What do you want?”
“I have something that belongs to you.”
“What’s that?”
I removed the medallion from my neck and tossed it over to him. As he caught it, I felt a sudden loss. It was like I had just given a part of myself away. Considering all the trouble that thing had put me through, it was a wonder I had any kind of positive feelings toward it. I could only blame that effect on magic.
The boy stared down at the medallion in his hands, remembering his father. Recognition glinted in his eyes, but he was grinding his teeth as if the memory caused him great pain. I wasn’t surprised – he had just lost his father.
“What are you doing down here?” I asked, taking a seat on the couch to show the guy I could be trusted. I glanced around at the dark recesses of the storage room, trying to imagine why someone would choose to spend their time down here. I could think of nothing.
“I…” He inched closer, going hesitantly for the seat beside me. He must have thought better of it, as he then crossed the lounging area and slumped onto the other couch, the medallion still clutched in his hand. “You won’t tell them where I am, will you?”
“Tell who?”
“The mages.”
“If you fear them so much, why did you attack them?”
The man looked up at me, small and wimpy-looking. “I didn’t! They attacked me!”
“All right,” I said, waving my hands. “Calm down. So, humor me; why did they attack you? You’re a mage, aren’t you? Why are they attacking their own kind?”
“It’s to do with my father. Our family have been outcasts for many years. I barely passed my training before they threw us out of the Mages Guild. When the creepers murdered one of them and set it up to look like my dad did it, they launched an attack on us.”
It suddenly occurred to me that he was hiding in here, both from creepers and mages. I would have hated to be in his position, and if it wouldn’t strike so much controversy with Dalton and the Elders of R’hen, I would have suggested he take up residence at the Vault.
“So, when they came here…”
“It was self-defense.” The man stood then, holding out the medallion to me. “Which means I don’t want this. If those mages come back, I’ll be completely unable to defend myself. Please, take it away and give it to someone else.”
You’ve got to be freakin’ kidding me.
I shot to my feet, pushing his hand away. “No way. I’ve been all over town trying to get rid of that damn medallion. I’ve been attacked by creepers, threatened by mages, and I’ve not even got my own magic anymore. You’re taking it back, and that’s the end of it.”
The man looked up at me like a confused puppy. “Magic? But… you’re not a mage?”
“No.”
“Then what are you?”
“I’m a Cardkeeper. At least, I will be for a short while longer.”
Bolting to his feet, the man pushed the medallion into my chest as a wide smile broadened his face. “That’s it! A Cardkeeper, yes. Yes! You can get rid of it, if nobody else can. Please, uh – Keira, was it? – take it to my sister. She will know exactly what to do with it.”
“Kid, you’re not listening to me. I don’t want it anymore. It’s your family heirloom, not mine.” My blood pumped through me now, driving my intense anger with each beat of my heart. I was starting to feel like an errand girl, which pissed me off. Still, I couldn’t help but feel for the man – his only crime was immaturity.
“But… ugh.” Finally, the man sat back down, wrapping the blanket over his shoulders and placing the medallion in his lap. He stared at it with open eyes, the color draining from his face. He seemed scared of it – he should have been scared of it. It was what had got his father killed, and now that same evil wanted to pry it from his cold, lifeless fingers.
I sighed.
“Fine,” I said, snatching it up off his lap. “I’ll take it where it needs to go. But you’d damn well better have a name and address for me, because I’m not going on another chase, and my mortality might not stick for much longer.”
The man smiled again, rushing to a nearby notepad and jotting down an address. He tore the sheet off the pad and stuffed it into my hand, grinning. “I don’t know what you mean by mortality, but this is where my sister lives. She’s wanted the medallion since she first laid eyes on it. I promise you she will accept it.”
I unfolded the paper and rolled my eyes over the address. I knew the place – it wasn’t far past my own apartment, which meant that I could swing by and check up on Jason on the way. I was starting to worry about him, hoping that his condition was improving.
“If she doesn’t want it,” I said, slipping the paper into my pocket, “I want you to know that I will come back here and give it back to you, even if it means cramming it down your throat.” I reached for the flashlight and made my way back toward the door, more than ready to escape from this dusty old basement.
&nb
sp; “Not a problem,” the man called from behind me. “She’ll want it.”
She better.
I wanted it gone.
Chapter 19
As I padded up the steps of my apartment block, digging deep into my jean pocket for the keys, my mind kept drifting back to the look on the young man’s face. I could barely believe that he’d been bullied into a corner, forced to spend his life in the basement of some security building. At least he’d be safe there.
Which was more than could be said for me.
I arrived on the correct floor, stopping dead in my tracks as I laid eyes on my apartment door. It was ajar, with thin traces of light beaming through from inside. Whoever had dared to break into my home didn’t have the common sense to bring a flashlight. At least that had worked in my favor, giving me enough notice to defend myself.
But then I remembered Jason.
I had left him on the couch, weak and defenseless. There was no way he could fight off an attacker in his current state. Even if he could shift into his werewolf form, there was no guarantee of strength. I had to protect him. Heart pounding, sweat moistening my forehead, I reached for my magicard before realizing I was still only mortal.
Shit.
My head was a mess, a storm of toxic thoughts tearing through my mind as I crept along the hallway and pushed open the door. It creaked open slowly, revealing the room little by little. By the time I saw who was inside, my heart was lodged in my throat.
“Link.”
Jason was right where I left him, sitting up with his back to the arm of the couch. Link was perched on his shoulder, dabbing a wet flannel to his head – taking care of my man. When he spotted me, a smile broke out onto his lips.
“Keira!”
Pleased as I was to see him, my beating heart still pounded on double time, like it didn’t yet know this was a false alarm. I slammed the door and crossed the room, sitting by Jason’s feet and patting his leg. “Think you could close the door next time?”
Broken Magic: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Cardkeeper Chronicles Book 3) Page 8