“Are you all right?” I asked, lowering the cane again.
Kyle blinked several times. “Just got a little light-headed. I do apologize.” He took another moment to gather himself, then straightened. “Now, how may I help you, sir?”
It was as if the last two minutes hadn’t happened. I repeated my description of Arnaud. This time he nodded almost immediately.
“Yes. Mr. Grimes. He’s staying on the penthouse level.” He retrieved a keycard. “I can show you up if you’d like?”
13
Kyle and I stepped from the elevator and into an ornate corridor with a Persian runner extending its length. Overhead, enormous chandeliers dripped with crystals. I hadn’t wanted the receptionist to escort me up, but he’d insisted. I could tell the idea of being involved in a police investigation excited him.
“His are the two doors on the left,” Kyle said importantly. “He asked that his room not be cleaned or serviced except at his request. He was very specific about that.”
“I appreciate all your help. I can take it from here.”
“Oh. Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I said firmly.
Kyle dipped his head like a chastised puppy’s, handed me the keycard, and retreated back into the elevator.
“Oh, and one more thing,” I said, pushing power into the words. “Don’t tell anyone I was here.”
Two could play at Arnaud’s game.
I waited for the elevator doors to wall Kyle off and the elevator to begin its smooth descent before invoking a shield around myself and starting down the corridor. As I opened my wizard’s senses, energetic currents bloomed across the corridor. The demons’ passage through the Harkless Rift may have hidden them from detection, but they still left fleeting void trails like the ones I’d picked up in the gang’s apartment.
Nothing here, though.
I slowed as I approached the first door, then stopped. There was a symbol, hidden beneath the doorknob. Pulsing with demonic energy, it had been crafted to detect entry and alert the caster, not unlike a minor ward. After checking for other protections, I touched the tip of my blade to the bottom of the symbol and incanted. A tiny white flare breached it, and infernal energy drained out, rendering the protection inert.
Go carefully.
Sliding sword back into staff, I aligned my mind to the interfaith power in my ring. Not wanting to take any chances, I pulled a stealth potion from my pocket, activated it, and downed half of it. When I felt the potion taking effect, I inserted the keycard and turned the handle. The door released quietly from the frame. With a trembling fist, I aimed the ring through the opening and pushed the door wider.
Nothing rushed out at me.
I peeked into a lavish open floor plan. Heavy gold curtains covered tall windows that overlooked Central Park, casting the penthouse in a kind of twilight. A musky scent hung in the air, recalling Arnaud’s former penthouse office. But beneath it lay a subtle stench of sulfur and decomposition. I listened until I could hear the soft swish of blood in my ears, but nothing was stirring in the penthouse.
I stepped inside and rested the door against the frame behind me. Though I could sense subtle energies warding the windows, there were none in the open space. Leading with my ring, I crept around the arrangement of dark leather furniture and antiques, avoiding the rugs in case they hid other symbols.
At an oak bar, I noted bottles of vintage scotch and a small collection of empty glasses. Condensation had puddled around one of them and then dried save for a thin ring of moisture. Otherwise, the room was immaculate. The bedroom suite as well, the giant bed not even appearing to have been slept in. I caught myself scanning the pillow for hairs, even though any Arnaud had shed would have sublimated by now.
From the bedroom, I entered a large bathroom. Since the scene at Blade’s apartment, I’d become ultra-sensitive to the scent of blood, and it was here, hanging in the air. I scanned the sinks, counters, and jacuzzi tub. All clean. Not a single corpuscle. On a hunch, I opened my wizard’s senses. On the floor near the jacuzzi, the image of a smeared symbol grew into view. Blood-rendered, then wiped away.
A pow-wow with Malphas? I wondered. Is that why Arnaud left here last night?
I produced my small notepad from my coat and sketched the symbol. When I finished, I swapped the pad for my handkerchief and a small vial that contained a bonding potion. Arnaud’s demonic matter might have sublimated, but if he’d created the symbol with ingested blood, I could track that.
I wet the kerchief with activated potion, then wiped the tile floor where the symbol had been. Not only would the potion pick up everything it contacted, it would help isolate the elements for later casting. Upon finishing, I placed the kerchief in a Ziploc bag.
Back in the main room, I considered my next move. I wanted to continue searching, but that would only raise the risk of Arnaud knowing I’d been here. When my gaze fell to a large rug covering the center of the floor, a flashbulb went off. I rolled it back to expose a section of bare carpet and grinned.
Perfect spot for a demon trap.
Signing into the air, I returned my book on casting circles to the cubbyhole and closed it again. On the floor, the ornate demon trap glowed with my infusion of power. It wasn’t as strong as the containment cell I’d warded at 1 Police Plaza, but it would hold Arnaud long enough for me to put him down.
I watched the circle until it began to dim, then very carefully arranged the rug back over the trap.
With my stealth potion wearing off, it was time to go. But I felt good. For the first time since his return, I had an advantage over Arnaud. Unfortunately, I also had Upholder commitments. That was the deal. I would have to pull in the other three golems so they could watch the remaining sides of the building. Fix it so any alerts they sent would be sure to punch through whatever I happened to be casting.
As I left, I stopped at the door and listened into the corridor. Footsteps, approaching from the elevator. My breaths quickened as I retreated into the penthouse, rounded the demon trap, and slipped into the bathroom.
“Oscurare,” I whispered, deepening the surrounding shadows.
The footsteps stopped at the door. Arnaud? I imagined him studying the sigil. He would sense the drained energy, but would he see the small blemish? A moment later, the door opened. The footsteps that entered sounded cautious. I set my jaw as visions of Blade’s blood-soaked apartment flashed through my head.
No screwing around, I told myself. If Arnaud doesn’t walk into the demon trap, you have to put him there. The ring will do the rest. I checked the interfaith charge. Still hovering around eighty percent. More than enough.
The progress of the footsteps continued, then stopped suddenly. I fixed my slick grip on my sword and staff. The footsteps resumed, but around the edge of the room now.
Damn, he senses something. Need to push the advantage while I have it.
I slipped from my concealment, a force invocation readied.
In the main room, a cloaked figure spun toward me.
“Vigore!” I shouted.
No sooner than the word had left my mouth, I could see it wasn’t Arnaud. The druid’s quarterstaff flashed as it spun around and absorbed the incoming attack. He was preparing to sling it back at me when he saw who’d thrown it. Frowning, Jordan lowered his staff and discharged the energy.
“Everson,” he said.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” I hissed.
“You weren’t answering your phone. I tracked your bonding sigil to see if you were in some kind of trouble.”
I sighed. “I’m fine, but we need to leave. Now.”
He peered around the penthouse. “Is this where the Stranger’s name led you?”
“How did you even get into the hotel?”
He made a flapping motion with a hand: his raven form. “I asked you a question,” he said.
“Let’s discuss it outside.” This wasn’t a conversation I was looking forward to. “Stay there. I’ll come to yo
u.”
He had stopped beside the bar, and the last thing I needed was for the demon trap to close around him. But something was off. One of the cabinet doors on the bar had come open. Through the narrow opening, I spotted a sigil. The dark marking was sizzling softly, like fat in a pan.
“Get down!” I shouted.
I hit Jordan with a force flash, knocking him to one side. A split second later the entire cabinet exploded, smashing bottles and glasses and sending comets of infernal energy storming around the penthouse. One comet glanced off my shield with a searing hiss. From his back, Jordan repelled another with his staff. But we didn’t seem to be their intended targets. The comets disappeared into the bedrooms.
That couldn’t be good.
“What’s going on?” Jordan called.
“Someone planted a magic-detecting sigil in the cabinet.” I’d been extra careful to hold my aura in tight while moving throughout the penthouse and building the demon trap. The invocation I’d slung at Jordan, and that he dispersed, must have triggered the damned thing.
Jordan climbed to his feet and peered around. “What happens next?”
As if in answer, shrieks sounded from the bedrooms. Infernal bags. The sigil had been the trigger, but the bags were the true bombs. Arnaud’s security was more layered than I’d given him credit for.
“Get ready,” I said. “We’re about to have company.”
I activated the banishment rune on my sword, casting the blade in holy light. The air swirled around Jordan’s raised staff. The first imps to appear were nasty things the size of vultures. They flapped through the high-ceilinged penthouse, all ragged wings and skeletal frames. Fang-crammed beaks opened in piercing screams.
Wincing from the sound, I swung my sword. The blade’s holy aura smashed through the company, sending several of the imps to the floor in parts. Those that made it past my attack, veered toward Jordan. He met them with deft staff strikes, expulsions of energy blowing them apart.
I cleaned up the ones that circled back. But the next wave of demonic creation was already swarming in: spiny devils.
“Why aren’t we bailing?” Jordan shouted. “The way is clear.”
“Because these things are designed to kill on sight. We can fight back. The hundred-odd people staying in the hotel can’t.” I grunted into a swing, my blade cleaving a devil’s head. “Don’t let any past you.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” he growled, punching his staff into a devil’s gut.
I drew in a sharp breath as talons raked down my shielded back. The pain that broke through me was psychic, the reaction of infernal energy to my magic. Wheeling, I severed the creature’s knotted spine above the hip. The devil collapsed in two parts, still struggling as it broke into a foul gas.
There must have only been two infernal bags because the imps and devils were thinning out. What remained were easy pickings. Until a devil ducked past Jordan. The druid’s quarterstaff came around, but too slowly. Before I could stop it with an invocation, the devil was darting out the door.
Shit. I took off after him, hacking an imp from my path.
“Finish the ones in here!” I called to Jordan.
By the time I emerged into the corridor, the devil was almost to the elevator in the right wall. I watched in horror as the door dinged open. Someone had come up. I was already thinking Arnaud when a human shriek sounded, followed by a stammer of words: “Oh my dear Lord what is that thing?”
The voice belonged to Kyle the receptionist. I began shaping energy, but the devil was already lunging into the elevator—and being met by a solid fist to the jaw. The devil staggered back into the corridor, its spiny mouth hanging to one side. Jughead lumbered from the elevator, hands balled into giant fists.
Hell, yes!
My favorite golem landed a haymaker to the devil’s gut followed by a roundhouse to the side of its head. Another blow sent the creature staggering toward me. I wasted no time running my blade through its back and speaking the banishing word. The devil came apart in gobs of phlegm. I sheathed my blade as Jughead lumbered up.
“You don’t know how happy I am to see you,” I said.
The golem nodded and lowered his fists. “Thank you, master.”
“H-he told me he was with you,” Kyle called from the elevator. “So I brought him up.” The doors closed on his final word, and he headed back down. I couldn’t blame him.
Jordan emerged from the penthouse, his cloak billowing around his legs as he ran up. He looked from me to the golem and back.
“Who in the hell is this?”
“Be nice. His name’s Jughead.”
“Jughead,” Jordan repeated, staring into the golem’s sunken eyes.
“Did you finish them off?” I asked, cocking a head back toward the penthouse.
“Yeah,” Jordan said distractedly. “I think so.” He stopped trying to figure out Jughead long enough to glower at me. “Do you want to tell me what we just fought—hell, what we’re even doing here?”
“Sure, right after I neutralize the infernal bags.”
I returned to the penthouse in a mope. I’d set the perfect trap, only for this to happen. I stared around the trashed space. Even if I could somehow put everything back to the way it was, there was the tripped sigil. Arnaud would know I’d been here.
The advantage belonged to the demon-vampire again.
14
“So this was a personal project,” Jordan concluded, his voice thick with anger.
“While my spell is hunting the Stranger’s name,” I said. “Believe it or not, I can do two things at the same time.”
We were outside, standing beside Jughead’s hotel-facing bench. After neutralizing the infernal bags, I took closer stock of the damage to the penthouse. The imps had torn open a couple couches and rendered long gouges in the wall. And that was to say nothing of the oak bar having been blown to shit. Still, I left the demon trap under the rug on the very slim chance now that Arnaud would wander into it.
I’d had to use my wizard’s voice on Kyle the receptionist to explain away the spiny devil he’d seen. I also reinforced the suggestion that I had never been there. It was the best patch-up job I could do, but now I had a ticked-off druid to deal with. A shame I couldn’t use my wizard’s voice on him.
“That wasn’t the agreement,” he said.
“My priority remains to the Upholders.”
“And yet I found you uptown, sneaking around someone’s penthouse who’s not a Stranger.” He shook his head. “I told Malachi this was going to happen. I said, ‘We make an exception for him up front, and he’s going to get it in his head he can call in exceptions whenever he damn well pleases.’”
“Well, you’re wrong.”
“This was about getting your woman and her kid safe-housed, wasn’t it?” He edged closer as he spoke. “That’s all you care about. You couldn’t give two spits about the rest of us.”
Jughead had been following our exchange from the bench. Now, seeing the challenge in Jordan’s posture, the golem’s instinct to protect his creator kicked in. He rose, shouldered his way between us, and pressed a blocky hand to the druid’s chest. Jordan responded by raising his quarterstaff.
“You better tell him to step the hell back,” he said.
“It’s all right,” I told Jughead. “We’re just having a professional disagreement.”
“Professional nothing. Did you or did you not ditch the hunting spell to pursue your own demon?”
“I didn’t ditch anything,” I said. “The hunting spell is still … hunting.”
“Well, maybe it would help if you put some more of your focus into it, instead of into clay brain over here.”
Jughead, who’d begun to sit down, straightened again.
“Hey, you don’t want to mess with this,” Jordan warned.
I showed Jughead a hand, spoke a silent command, and waited until he was sitting before turning back to Jordan. “One, a golem doesn’t take much energy to sustain. That’s what
his amulet is for.” I made a special point of not mentioning the three other golems in my service. “And two, if I put any more energy into the hunting spell, our quarry is going to know we’re targeting her.”
Jordan glared back at me.
“Look, the spell is working. We just have to give it time.” I made another point of not telling him I’d only started the spell that morning and not last night as promised. “As for Arnaud, I understand where you’re coming from. Yeah, he’s my problem. But if I can get a jump on him, take him out, it’ll mean one less demon in our world, and one less threat to anyone I’m associated with. Including the Upholders.”
“Why can’t your Order deal with him?”
“Because they’re in the Harkless Rift, making sure no more…” I broke off.
There had been more to last night’s dream. I watched Blade’s face turn into Arianna’s. Trapped, she’d said. In the Harkless Rift. Then she’d touched my third eye. The same claustrophobia seized me as I watched members of the Order attempting to return only to be repelled by an unyielding force.
“What?” Jordan asked.
“They’re trapped.”
“Who, your Order?”
“Trapped in the Harkless Rift,” I said, already pulling out my phone and dialing Claudius. As the line rang, I turned away from Jordan so I could shift the remaining golems. I wanted Archie and Betty joining Jughead on stakeout, while Veronica, the go-getter, would begin a search of the upscale hotels. If Arnaud was changing locations, I was betting the one constant would be luxury.
“Yes?” an elderly voice answered.
“Claudius, it’s Everson.”
“Everson…” He seemed to search his memory despite that we’d worked together in person just last week. “Ah, yes, Everson Croft. How can I help you?”
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