Druid Bond

by Brad Magnarella

  Jordan and I emerged from the ship last, his wife between us. She was among those sleeping, but she was aglow with fae magic to help restore her soul. Once we got her and the others to land, the druids would complete the healing.

  Jordan climbed aboard a boat, and I handed her up to him. As he lifted her onto one of the bench seats, two of the half-fae wrapped her in a thick blanket, part of a store of supplies they’d found in the deck cabins.

  “How did you know?” I asked Jordan.

  “That the Stranger wasn’t her?” He seized my arm and helped me aboard. “I’ve been with Delphine for twelve years. There’s not an inch of this lovely woman I don’t know. The Stranger’s resemblance to her was uncanny but imperfect. And what you said made sense. The final proof was in the way she reacted to that light of yours. She’s never made a face like that.”

  So he had caught that.

  Wrapping his arms around her, Jordan pulled her beside him to keep her warm.

  As I took the seat next to him, he smiled. “We did all right back there, Croft.”

  “We did,” I agreed. “Your seed toss was brilliant.”

  “Not bad, huh?”

  The half-fae manning the oars began rowing. We rounded the leaning prison ship and went with the flow of the river toward the silent warships. Having completed their mission, Pip and Twerk had probably returned to Osgood. I couldn’t help but smile at the image of all those British Redcoats slumped out in faerie slumbers. As strange as it sounded, I hoped to see the two pixies again.

  “I owe you an apology,” Jordan said, breaking up my thought.

  “For what?”

  “Oh, come off it, man. I doubted you. Doubted you hard. But you did everything you said you would. Seay has her group back. I have mine.” He nuzzled against his wife’s wrapped body. In the soft glow of fae light, she looked like she was having a very pleasant, very restful sleep. “You’re solid, Croft.”

  “I probably wasn’t always so understanding with you,” I said. “I’m just glad I could help.”

  “The second we get back, I’ll release you from the bond. You’ll be free to hunt Arnaud. And if you need me, I’m there. I can’t speak for the rest of the Upholders, but I’m sure they feel the same way.”

  I nodded my thanks, but something was bothering me. We were acting like our mission here was ending, but there was still another Stranger. One who was manipulating the ley lines and God knew what else. And Demon X clearly knew we were here now. He’d sic’d his soldiers on us twice.

  So why hadn’t the final Stranger tried to stop us?

  “Any idea where Arnaud might be?” Jordan asked.

  “I have something I can use to hunt him,” I said, thinking of the cloth with the bonding potion and blood corpuscles. Fortunately, little time had passed back home. The blood would still be in him and…

  Wait a minute.

  I reviewed everything we’d learned during our time here and lined it up with the info I’d picked up in the past few days. I thought about how Demon X had used both sides—the American soldiers as possessed sentries and spies and the British Redcoats as unwitting guards. Pulling that off would have required someone with intimate knowledge of the period. Someone moneyed and adept at manipulation. Someone like…

  “He’s here,” I said.

  Jordan’s brow creased. “What?”

  My magic gave a pair of hard nods.

  “Arnaud’s in the time catch,” I said. “He’s the final Stranger.”

  37

  Following the gun battle on the East River, Governor’s Island was a hornet’s nest. Redcoats ran along the earthen ramparts and manned cannons, while others scuttled around the western docks. Several rowboats were already making their way upriver, no doubt to see why the warships had gone silent. Under the cover of glamours, our fleet rowed around to the backside of the island where we found a small inlet.

  We pulled in and helped the recovering druids to a patch of woods beyond. The trees would help their healing. I called the Upholders together around Malachi, who lay on a bed of leaves. He’d suffered a savage leg injury during the first bombardment, but druid magic was already at work on him, repairing torn tissue and fractured bone.

  “Do you remember the departure point?” I asked everyone.

  “Center of those earthworks,” Seay said, nodding past the ring of half-fae who were maintaining our glamour.

  “That’s right. Osgood will know you’ve arrived, and he’ll transport you back.”

  “What’s all this ‘you’ stuff?” Gorgantha asked me. “Aren’t you coming?”

  I had thought about my revelation on the rest of our trip downriver. “I’m pretty sure the fourth Stranger is Arnaud Thorne, and he’s here, posing as himself from a couple centuries ago. Which means Demon X is his master, Malphas. He must have acquired the other Strangers from a weaker demon and brought the whole show here.”

  “Why?” Jordan asked.

  “The demon apocalypse,” Malachi answered from the ground.

  I nodded in agreement. “I think Malphas is manipulating the energy here in an attempt to build a channel to his corner of the demonic realm.”

  “And from here it’s just a short hop to our world,” Seay said in understanding.

  Malachi pressed himself up to an elbow. “And if he gets through, other major demons will follow.”

  “That would take a lot of energy, wouldn’t it?” Jordan asked skeptically.

  “He must have a plan,” I said. “The fact Malphas let us take out the two Strangers and recover the possessed suggests they might have already served their purpose. Arnaud may be the only one he needs here now, and it has to do with the manipulation of ley lines. They’re probably happy to see us go. If I grab Arnaud, I’ll not only mess up whatever Malphas is doing, but help free my Order from the rift. Arnaud is key somehow.” Eliminating him as a threat would also free Vega and Tony from their de facto imprisonment.

  “Then I’m going with you,” Jordan said.

  “Me too,” Gorgantha said.

  “And me,” Seay chimed in.

  “I’d go if I could,” Malachi said from the ground, “but…” He gestured to his wrapped leg.

  I waved my hands. “I appreciate that guys, I do. But my magic is telling me this needs to be a solo mission. Plus, you have to make sure everyone gets home. That’s your mission right now. And you should get moving soon. You can’t maintain this glamour forever.”

  “What about you?” Gorgantha asked.

  “I have my own ride back, remember?”

  I checked to ensure my bond to the warded cell at 1 Police Plaza was still intact. Thanks to Osgood’s magic, it felt as solid as ever.

  “Do you even know where to find Arnaud?” Jordan asked.

  I remembered the tall, dark building with a crenelated tower I’d seen that morning.

  “Yeah,” I said. “He has a small fortress in the city.”

  To preclude any further debate, I stepped up and hugged Gorgantha. Her return hug was surprisingly tender. In contrast, Seay squeezed me hard enough to pop a couple of my vertebrae back in place. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for helping find my friends,” she whispered.

  “You’re not home yet,” I reminded her.

  Jordan’s hug was solid and wordless. He finished by clapping my shoulder.

  I knelt beside Malachi. “Are you going to be all right?” I asked him.

  He nodded, but his eyes looked troubled. “Are you?”

  “Hey, my magic hasn’t let me down yet.”

  As true as that was, I’d lied a moment ago about this needing to be a solo mission. My magic hadn’t said that. But I had already exposed three people who trusted me to the demon-vampire, and the result had been a blood-drenched apartment. I wasn’t going to expose four more. Plus, I was confident I could handle Arnaud.

  “At least let me send Lorcan and Failend along,” Jordan said, referring to his new druid friends. “Make sure you get across the river a
ll right.”

  I thought about it, then nodded. “Thank you.”

  My four teammates watched as I drew out my final potion, activated it, and drank it down. It would kick in by the time I shoved out into the river. And now my magic was talking, telling me shoving-off time was now.

  “See you in two hundred fifty years,” I said.

  With a final wave to my teammates, I turned and made my way down to the boats. Behind me, Jordan uttered a series of druidic words. The sigil on my hand glowed briefly before dimming. I felt something unlock in my mind. He had just released me from the bond, freeing me to hunt Arnaud Thorne.

  “Go safe,” he called.

  On the far side of the East River, I docked the rowboat and climbed onto the pier. With my stealth potion hiding me from everyone except those preternaturally attuned to my presence, I raised a hand to my raven escorts. The druids circled around, released soft caws, then flapped back toward Governor’s Island.

  I slipped from the wharves and wound my way through the dark, misty streets. An occasional soulless soldier wandered by, vacant eyes staring past me. I was still in the priest’s robe, which felt fitting considering who I was about to confront. The pockets might have been empty, but I had what I needed for Arnaud.

  With every silent step, I felt calmer, more confident. I couldn’t explain it other than that I was taking the initiative, not Arnaud. That had been my biggest fear: the demon-vampire catching me or my loved ones by surprise.

  I passed Vander Meer’s furniture shop, the windows dark, and aimed for the side street where I’d encountered Arnaud earlier. Had he known who I was then? Recalling the way his voice had dripped with familiarity, I nodded. And it was probably no accident he found me right after my meeting with Elizabeth Burgess. He was the one I’d caught peering from the soldiers’ eyes. He’d had them attack her in order to see whether it was actually me. My display of magic would have confirmed the suspicion.

  But then why had Arnaud played games instead of pouncing?

  I put aside the questions and called up his building in my mind. I could expect sigils on the doors, concentric rings of slaves. I was confident I could get past them all, though. I would find Arnaud in a sanctum on the top floor.

  And then it will just be a matter of—

  I had been turning the corner into the alleyway, and now I suddenly pulled up.

  I wasn’t going to need to do any of those things. The son of a bitch was right here.

  Halfway down the alleyway, the demon-vampire was circling someone who could barely hold himself upright. “Yes, you’re lost, you poor, poor soul,” he was saying in his soft, seductive voice. “You need guidance. Allow me to provide it.”

  The recipient of his words was a young man whom Arnaud must have caught walking home from a tavern. He clearly intended to claim his soul and add him to his growing army in the time catch. The man swooned, but Arnaud seemed to catch him with eyes that glowed blood red in the night.

  “Allow me to deliver you unto the light,” Arnaud purred.

  The man slurred out a laugh as he leaned his head back and tugged away the stained cravat that covered his neck.

  “Very good,” Arnaud whispered, fangs glinting from his mouth. He was behaving more vampiric than demonic; regardless, I couldn’t stand here and watch him prey on another victim, time catch or not.

  “Vigore!” I shouted.

  The force from my blade lifted Arnaud from the street and slammed him through a stack of crates into a brick wall. Wood planks and mortar dust burst around him. As Arnaud fell to the ground, his would-be victim snapped to and stared around.

  “Get the hell out of here!” I shouted in my wizard’s voice.

  Because of my stealth potion, the directive emerged faintly, but the man caught enough of it to stagger into a run in my direction. Arnaud sprang up and raced after him. His tricorn hat had fallen off, and his cape was in disarray, but his eyes burned with hunger. With another shouted Word, I willed a wall of light into being and brought it into him. The opposing forces met in a blinding collision. Arnaud flew from his feet once more. This time, he landed in the street on fingertips and toes.

  “Who’s there?” he demanded, his inflamed eyes scouring the alleyway.

  I enclosed him in an orb and stalked forward. The channeled energy had burned through much of my stealth potion, and now I appeared as a ghostly apparition. His gaze locked on mine. The priest’s robes seemed to confuse him for a moment, but as I formed a shield around myself for protection, Arnaud rose and straightened his cape.

  “Mr. Hanson,” he said, affecting a genteel smile. “I thought I smelled wizard blood earlier. But why the hostility? Have I done something to offend you?”

  “Cut the crap,” I said. “We both know who we are.”

  His head tilted. “Are you saying you’re not Mr. Hanson?”

  “Malphas sent you here to claim souls and arrange the conditions for his arrival through some sort of channel. You’re the one who paid to have the rebel soldiers turned out. You’re also the one trying to buy the St. Martin’s property, but for Malphas this time. Well guess what? It’s not gonna happen.”

  I strode toward him, confident I had my demon, but there was one way to be absolutely sure—the demon brand Carlos had seen on his neck.

  Arnaud began inspecting the orb that contained him. “I have been making investments as you suggest, yes,” he said distractedly. “But I’m afraid I’ve never heard of this Malphas.”

  “Oh, really.”

  “Mr. Hanson, I know all of the players on this side of the Atlantic and most on the other, and no, I’ve never heard the name.” He smiled sweetly. “Now, I see that your powers are considerable. We could engage in a messy struggle, yes, but I assure you that it wouldn’t end there. You have a family, I presume? Loved ones?” He tsked twice. “I’m a reasonable man, but I’m known to get a bit zealous when it comes to exacting retribution. A character blemish, I suppose. But what a pity it would be to involve other, innocent, parties. I’m sure we can come to more amicable terms?”

  “So how did it feel taking out your 1776 version?” I growled. “Did you get off on butchering yourself?”

  “Now you’ve really lost me, Mr. Hanson.”

  I had no idea why he was keeping up the ruse, but I was done talking. I pushed energy into his confinement and slammed him face-down on the street. Arnaud shouted in surprise. With a fingerlike force, I jerked down his collars and inspected the back of his neck. The pale skin was waxy smooth. No demon brand.

  Impossible.

  I spoke the Word for reveal, but there was no concealing magic either.

  “I promise you, Mr. Hanson,” Arnaud seethed from the street. “You are making a fatal error.”

  Grandpa’s ring was pulsing away now, keen to unload the power of the Brasov Pact. But if this was the demon-vampire Arnaud, why wasn’t that power being negated? Where was his scepter?

  “Why have you been making those investments?” I demanded.

  “Because it’s what I do. I have wise counsel, and I follow it.”

  “Whose?” I asked.

  Sensing I wanted something, Arnaud began to chuckle. I upped the pressure that pinned him.

  “Whose?” I repeated.

  “My servant’s,” he managed.

  Servant’s?

  The blast of infernal energy that broke through my shield sent me in a staggering dance across the alleyway. I landed against a wall. My protection had absorbed much of the attack, but that protection was now gone.

  “He was referring to me, Mr. Croft,” an accented voice said.

  I looked over to find the silhouette of a tall figure strolling down the alleyway, smoke drifting from his hands. And I knew him. He had grinned at me that morning following my encounter with Arnaud.

  Now I understood why.

  I ducked behind a stack of split wood and began incanting to restore my prism.

  “You were quite right,” he said. “I couldn’t count
enance the prospect of disposing of this version of myself, so I assumed the guise of my faithful servant. And I didn’t have to harm a hair on dear Zarko’s head. I simply ordered him to the basement, and he was quite happy to go. I am still his master, after all.”

  His footsteps continued toward me in a soft, steady cadence. Meanwhile, the vampire Arnaud had recovered. From behind my woodpile, I heard him growl with the indignity of having been man-handled.

  “Stay where you are, master,” Arnaud-as-Zarko told him. “I’ll handle this little nuisance.”

  I tried to focus on my prism, but my mind was scrambling for a plan. Arnaud had caught me by surprise—not only by assuming Zarko’s form instead of his own, but in the strength of his attack. Whatever the reason for shifting the ley energy, he was accessing a concentrated form somehow, increasing his power severalfold.

  “Have you nothing to say?” Arnaud-as-Zarko asked.

  Regardless, my plan hadn’t changed. I just needed to get a hand on him.

  “I’m disappointed,” he continued in a taunting voice. “I was certain you’d have so much to tell me. So much to get off your chest. That little exhibit I arranged at your friends’ apartment, for example?”

  The image of the bloody carnage at the vampire hunters’ ripped through my mind, and for a moment everything went wavy and gray.

  He laughed. “Yes, I thought that might elicit a reaction.”

  I squeezed my sword and staff until the world steadied again.

  “What are you doing here?” I growled.

  “Oh, you deduced much of it, Mr. Croft, and I’m impressed. As for the details? Loose lips sink ships, as they say, and we can’t have that. But since the question’s been broached, what are you doing here?”

  “Helping rid the world of your filth.”

  “Oh, come now, Mr. Croft. You’ve been in this business too long to be that naïve. We are as essential to this world as the shadow is to light. The balance may shift, but it can never be all one or the other, now can it? But I understand your willful ignorance. You wish a safer world for your lovely detective friend and her son.”

  He wanted me to react again, but I blocked him out. I had managed to restore my casting prism, and now I was struggling to pull energy around it. It shouldn’t have been this hard, though. He stepped nearer.