by TR Cameron
He raced down the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him. Vizidus and his wife waited within the transparent magical walls, both covered in dust and the prone wizard also smeared with blood. He dispelled the wards and ran to them, retrieved his healing potions, and handed them to Tracia. She dribbled it into her husband’s mouth, then helped him to sit and drink more. By the time the vial had been emptied, he had a glass of water for each of them. He escorted them up the stairs and seated the couple at a table, then sat across from them. Even though the potion had done its work, they both looked weary.
“What happened?” he asked,
Vizidus coughed. “No good deed goes unpunished, my friend. Apparently, the Zatoras have an issue with the council.”
The dwarf frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“The magical that dropped our house on us said so,” Tracia replied acidly. “‘A farewell from Rion Grisham.’ I suppose it’s too much to hope he meant the bastard is leaving town.”
The wizard laughed. “That is doubtful. It’s more likely that he’s concluded we’re an impediment to his plans and decided it was time to do something about it.”
Zeb shook his head. “This doesn’t make sense. The council hasn’t done anything to him directly. I wonder why?”
The old man snorted. “He’s gone crazy with power, is what it is. What more is there to say? He’s afraid of anyone who won’t do what he says so he lashes out. Well, he made a mistake when he didn’t finish the job. We need to bring the others together. It’s time to take action.”
The dwarf sat with the couple until they were ready to walk to a hotel. All of them agreed that it would be a bad idea to return to the house with anything other than a full force. As he left them at the entrance to the Sheraton and turned to stroll back through the Quarter, he shook his head.
There’s something more going on here and I don’t think it bodes well for any of us.
Chapter Seventeen
The text message summoning him to The Otter had been unexpected but welcome. Most of Tanyith’s efforts to find Aiden Walsh had so far been unsuccessful, but he’d also dropped a few lines into the water to see what would bite, as his father used to say. That Karam had reached out to ask for a meet to share information gave him hope that at least one of his rods had snagged a fish.
He had to pause at the landing to let a drunken couple pass and grinned inwardly. They hung on to one another and it seemed to indicate the seemingly uncomplicated pleasure they took in the other’s company. No doubt there’s a world of challenges an inch below the surface like there are for all of us. Still, it’s nice to see romance flourish, if only for a moment. He made it the rest of the way up the narrow staircase without challenge.
The bar had a solid crowd for ten on a Wednesday night with even more people around than he remembered from the days when it had been one of the Atlantean gang’s secondary hangouts. For a minute, he wondered what Zeb would make of it as it seemed a polar opposite to the tavern. Individuals and small groups shared drinks in huddles as opposed to the air of celebration that usually filled the Drunken Dragons’ common area. Unless Cali was fighting with someone, of course.
He grinned at the thought of his partner in…well, certainly not crime, regardless of Barton’s opinion. Justice, maybe. He chuckled inwardly. It would take a better poet than me to find the answers to that. An arm waved from the far corner of the room opposite the entrance, the last table along the big windows that looked out over the street below. He snatched the drink Otto set on the bar for him as he neared and headed over and took the chair across from his oldest friend and mentor.
Karam nodded. “Thanks for coming.”
“Well, when you use the words ‘meet’ and ‘information’ in the same text message, how could I resist?”
The older man lifted his glass to his lips. Like last time, he was richly dressed in a shirt that shimmered in blue and black trousers and shoes that sucked in the light. His dreads were pulled away from his face. “I thought that would catch your attention. But before I tell you what I discovered, I might suggest that you should let this whole thing go right now. You won’t get any more money out of it, true?”
Tanyith chuckled. “No, that well is dry and besides, I already have what I was promised. The lack is on my end since I haven’t delivered the answers yet.”
The other man shook his head. “You know, answers sometimes aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. Especially where it concerns the past. It might be better to let things that are buried stay buried.”
“Sorry. I can’t do it. I had this role model once who wouldn’t let anything go once he’d committed to it. He kind of resembled you around the face and eyes, now that I think of it, and he taught me well.”
Karam laughed and his deep voice attracted the attention of those nearby, who stared for a moment before they returned to their conversations. The older man nodded. “Yeah, I guess that sounds like me, doesn’t it? Okay, here’s what I know—and mind you, this is sixth- or seventh-hand information. There is all kinds of ‘I know a guy’ happening in this chain of knowledge.”
He shrugged. “I won’t hold you accountable for its accuracy. And really, anything is better than the nothing I have right now.”
“Okay. The word is there’s a warehouse.”
“What the hell is it with warehouses?” he interrupted, then laughed. “Sorry, that’s a long story. Let me get refills.” He crossed to the bar and took the new glasses in exchange for the empties and sat again. “So, you were saying?”
“Right. There is apparently a warehouse, up to the north. Someone from the old days said they’d overheard a conversation that sounded like how Aiden talked, even though the person didn’t look anything like him. They managed to trail him, probably looking to skim off whatever he was up to. Walsh was always good at finding money.”
Tanyith chuckled softly. “Yeah, and constantly so secretive about how he did it. The bastard.”
Karam nodded. “Anyway, they followed him to this warehouse and discovered more than they expected. Now I’m not really up on the players these days, but the source said they were Zatoras.”
He frowned. “First, don’t give me that. You know everything that’s happening around here—always have and always will. But second, let me make sure I have this straight. You’re suggesting our old friend is tied up with a gang of anti-magical humans?”
His mentor spread his hands wide and leaned back in his chair. “Exactly that. And it was my reaction too. Like, seriously, what the hell?” He shook his head. “But it’s a crazy world and getting crazier. It’s not out of the question. And like you said, there’s always something hidden with our friend Aiden Walsh.” He fumbled in his shirt pocket for a pen, found a napkin, and wrote an address on it. “Here’s the location. But I’m telling you, if this was my search, I’d give it up and find myself a new girlfriend.”
Tanyith picked it up, looked at it once, and folded it and slid it into the back pocket of his jeans. “She’s not my girlfriend anymore and won’t be again. But I still need to do what I said I’d do.”
Karam stared at him hard for a minute before he broke into a grin. “No, you simply need to know because you’re damned curious about everything and can’t let a secret exist without trying to find out what it is. Same as always.”
He pointed at the older man. “That’s unfair and entirely probable.” They shared a laugh and he swallowed the rest of his drink. “Okay. I guess I have some investigating to do. Thanks, man.”
His oldest friend nodded and they exchanged fist bumps. Tanyith threw two twenties on the bar and headed to the door.
Maybe once I put this to rest, I can get myself some investigative work that actually pays me money, rather than costing me.
For the first time in weeks, he had the feeling he was finally on the right track.
He’d made the trek to the particular part of town in an Uber and had suffered through a long diatribe from the driver about how th
e New Orleans Saints needed to move on from their quarterback. His knowledge of football was far from encyclopedic, but he was fairly sure that wasn’t the issue with the team, given the other chatter he’d heard.
Once he’d escaped from that particular discomfort, he’d proceeded the last several blocks on foot and waited to be sure the car would have ample time to clear the area in case anyone tried to back-trace his movements.
Not that I’ll get caught but it doesn’t hurt to cover all the bases.
Tanyith selected his favorite option and took to the roofs when he was close and made his way undetected to the building parallel to the warehouse. He crouched and scuttled carefully across it until he approached the side that looked onto his target. The roof had no wall, so he zipped his leather coat and lay on the gravel surface to wiggle forward until he could see the structure he was interested in.
It rose three stories high, the same as the one he was on. Signs of activity abounded, with several trucks pulled up to the loading docks and the sounds of workers unloading them. It seemed rather less than secretive and completely the opposite of what he’d expected. As far as he knew, the Zatora syndicate had no public-face cover business that would justify what happened below.
Well, it’s not like I know everything about them. And it’s so deserted around here that maybe they simply don’t care.
He watched for fifteen minutes to get a sense of the ebb and flow of the people inside. Like the roof he was on, skylights dotted the top of the other building, which he assumed would offer the safest route to get a decent look inside. He extended his magical senses to search for traps or wards but found none. With a frown, he tried again but the result was the same.
Okay, I’d better be on the lookout for physical defenses. He spent another fifteen minutes scanning his target carefully, half-afraid that he’d already been detected by an electronic device he couldn’t see. But that also came up empty—no cameras, no obvious tripwires, and no blocks that looked like they could be laser beam sensors.
Maybe they rely on secrecy? He shrugged, having considered all the possibilities he could think of. There isn’t much more I can do.
Tanyith waited until the workers below had all entered the building once more and launched himself across the street. He used a combination of telekinesis and force magic to land lightly and immediately dropped to his stomach again, ready to summon a portal and vanish at any sign that he’d been noticed. After several minutes, he low-crawled to a skylight and peered into the warehouse.
It appeared to be a typical storage area, much like what he’d seen at the local big-box hardware store, with rows of shelves separated by barely enough space to drive a forklift between them. It was only a quarter filled, and he couldn’t discern any labels on the crates. They looked as if they’d been there for a long time, though. He crabbed a little to get a better angle on the loading dock, and things finally started to make a little sense.
A different storage arrangement was present there where crates were stacked atop one another in a grid pattern, sized for hand jacks rather than motorized forklifts. The workers removed boxes from pallets and placed them on separate stacks. Many had stenciled letters in army green, while others were unmarked. Some of the former were labeled MRE and others marked as ammunition.
So they are either stealing from the nearby bases or working a black-market scam. That’s consistent. Heavy plastic cases stood in the far section and as he turned his attention to them, three men walked into view, headed to that area. The first looked like a lawyer or accountant with mousey brown hair and a stylish tan suit. He was in conversation with a second and much larger man dressed in a less expensive suit that didn’t fit nearly as well as his friend’s. His status as a gym rat was apparent even from a distance. The two stopped walking but continued to talk and gestured toward the boxes in front of them.
The third man seized his attention the instant he strode into view. He could get lost in a crowd even faster than the first. Everything about him was ordinary, from the sandy hair to the ill-fitting shirt, pants, and sweater vest he wore. But none of those had arrested his senses. It was, instead, the way he moved and the slight quirk at the end of the smile plastered on his face. Those were as familiar to Tanyith as Kendra’s grin or Zeb’s scowl. He’d spent hours at a time with the guy back in the day, and those characteristics were clear identification, regardless of the clothes and skin he wore.
“Aiden Walsh, you damn bastard,” he muttered. “What the hell are you doing hanging out with these scumbags?”
He couldn’t get inside without notice, not with a magical of Walsh’s skill present. Hell, I’m lucky I haven’t been noticed yet. His mind spun plans to follow the man, but he was in no way ready for that. It would require preparation but now, he finally knew something. Not only that, but he also had an idea of how to put a crimp in the gang’s plans, or at least a small one.
Quickly and quietly, he moved away from the skylight, launched himself to the other rooftop, and called Kendra. “There’ll be a report of a fire in a few minutes.” He gave her the address. “You’ll want to roll on it. The building has some interesting contents.” She replied in the affirmative and hung up. Her penchant for quick action was one of the many things he liked about her.
Tanyith retrieved the burner phone he always carried and turned it on. He dialed nine-one-one and made an effort to disguise his voice with something close to low and growly. “Yah, there’s a fire here.” He shared the location and clicked off, yanked the sim chip out of the device, and incinerated it with a brief burst of fire magic. Then, with a smile for the chaos he hoped he’d caused, he delivered a fireball into the corner of the building farthest from the workers. It had little chance of spreading but a great chance that the fire department and police would arrive in time to find the illicit goods.
When the shouting began, he portaled away, satisfied with his night’s work.
Chapter Eighteen
Scoppic had been able to narrow down the location of the museum Emalia had identified. It was in the Latin quarter of Paris, home to the Sorbonne and other national treasures. The gallery that allegedly contained the shard was part of the National Museum of Natural History. Dasante had scoured the web and downloaded floor plans and maps for her and had even offered to come.
She felt no small regret about the way the events of her life had pulled her apart from her older friends and pursuits and seriously missed busking in Jackson Square with her neighbor. But she’d forced herself to pack those thoughts away for later, with the distinct hope that there would be a later in which to unpack them.
Although the magical council could have gotten her to Paris, Nylotte deemed the situation worthy of reaching out to her other students. Cali, Tanyith, Fyre, and Zeb now waited in the tavern for their arrival, far earlier in the morning than any of them likely would have wished. Tay looked pleased about something and seemed to carry less stress than he had in the recent past. She wanted to push him to talk but experience had taught her that he’d share in his own time or not at all, and trying to change that would merely make him grumpy. Instead, she contented herself with stew, cider, and waiting.
Finally, a noise emanated from below and they all turned expectantly toward the stairs, except for Fyre who barreled out from behind the bar to sit at the top. Rath appeared first, his purple hair a blur as his three-foot form hurtled through the air to wrap the Draksa in a hug. Fyre fell back and while the two wrestled, the troll’s laughter filled the room and summoned smiles to every face.
Next up the stairs was Diana Sheen, the leader of the agents. She was dressed in casual black jeans, boots, and a t-shirt under a thin leather jacket, and carried a black backpack. Now clipped almost to the scalp at the sides, her hair was shorter than when they had last seen her. Her strong features were arranged in a grin as she shook her head at her partner’s antics and stepped past the tangle of friends at play to approach the bar.
The final one to ascend was Cara, who
Cali had met on the night of the battle at the docks against the Kraken. Diana’s second in command seemed as capable as her boss. She wore an almost identical outfit and held a matching carryall. Their prowess made her feel self-conscious like she was an amateur playing at a sport they were pros at.
But they’re not matriarchs of a noble house, I bet, so that’s something. She rolled her eyes inwardly at her nonsense. “Hi, Diana, Cara. Thank you for coming.”
Diana dropped her heavy bag on the floor and slid onto the chair beside her with a relaxed laugh. “Well, when Nylotte tells you to do something, it’s generally best to do it, I’ve discovered.”
“Right?” She had arrived independently at the same conclusion. “She’s like a force of nature.”
The other agent took the seat next to her boss. “Most definitely. But she has more knowledge than anyone else I’ve ever met. We’re lucky she’s willing to teach us.”
“So,” Diana said briskly, “she said you need a lift to Paris and maybe support once we get there but wouldn’t say more. Because, you know, Nylotte.” The emphasis on the last word perfectly encapsulated the Drow’s often maddening games and made all three of them laugh again.
Cali nodded. “There’s a museum, and somewhere inside it is a piece of a sword. It’s most likely one of the shards of my family’s heirloom weapon, which I need to reconstruct.” She didn’t feel ready to share the situation about Atreo so she didn’t explain the reason behind the search. “So, getting us there and helping me make sure nothing nasty is waiting would be awesome. My enemies tried to trap me with another blade fragment recently, and while I don’t think they have anything to do with this one, it would be better to be safe rather than sorry.”