Smoke & Mirrors

by C. L. Schneider

“Is that why you keep Evans around?” he shot back. “To lighten things up? To make you feel like none of this is real?”

  “I keep Evans around because he’s not a dick.” Leaving Creed staring, I spun and walked off to the ‘portcullis’. With a push, the door swung in, revealing a large service elevator. The panel indicated it went one direction: down.

  Nadine and Creed joined me. She reached for the button, and he blocked her hand. “When the doors open, we’ll be exposed. There could be an army of those things waiting.”

  I nudged Nadine with raised brows. “Is he right?”

  “Possibly,” she said. “But, more likely, he thinks we’re dead. Arno might have had plans for you, but disrupting his auction is like a cardinal sin. He sent that second wave of ulfar to take us out. And he’s made it, so they won’t stop until we’re dead—or they are.”

  “If he thinks they’ve done their job, we might have a slim chance of surprising him,” Creed said. He asked her then, point blank, “What’s down there?”

  “The original site of the Market. It was run from here, underground, for years before the museum was built on top. The operation was smaller, then. It didn’t require as much space. When you exposed his other facilities, Arno would have pulled everything back here—his operation, his storage, and his wolves.”

  “Is there another way out?”

  Meaning filled Nadine’s gaze. “There is an exit, yes.”

  “An exit to where?” Creed balked. “We’re deep underground.”

  “Where doesn’t matter,” I said, lying through my teeth. “As long as Nadine can block it. Use sound waves,” I said to her, referring to our recent clash with the worms. “Collapse the walls, the ceiling if you have to. I don’t care. Just get to it before anyone else does.”

  Nadine nodded, knowing “anyone else” included Creed.

  “What makes you think Gant isn’t gone already?” he said.

  “Arrogance,” Nadine replied. “Arno’s faith in his control over the pack is absolute. He knows those wolves will die for him.”

  “They have no choice,” I said.

  Creed looked at me. “You said the skin rots faster when he uses his power. If he needs to wear it to control them, and he’s constantly changing, there must be a window when his influence is weaker. Why don’t these ulfar fight back then?”

  “It’s more than what he wears,” I said. “I think it’s the symbols, the tattoos on his real skin. There’s a rare creature whose ink has special properties. I’ve heard of it being used in similar rituals before, to intensify abilities. If anyone has such a thing, it’s the Market.”

  “Wait,” Creed broke in, “you’re saying those marks are magical?”

  “Depends on your definition of magic. Either way, they need to go.”

  “Go how?”

  I slapped my table legs against his chest. “Hold these.”

  Taking them, Creed turned gallantly away as I bunched up my skirt and unfastened the hoop around my waist. I shimmied out of the plastic cage and handed Nadine my knife. She stabbed the blade into the material at mid-thigh and drew it across. As she ripped the bottom half of the skirt away, I let out a sigh. Blood splattered the beaded bodice. The sleeves were torn, the hem jagged, and my feet were bare. It was the best I’d felt all night.

  We entered the elevator. Creed returned my homemade batons. His curious stare swept over the visible edge of the sheathe on my thigh to land on the object he’d felt earlier. “Lipstick?” He nodded to himself. “You could have just said that.”

  “It’s not lipstick.” I leaned past him and pushed the button. “It’s blood.”

  Creed chewed on that a second before managing a pained, “Why?”

  “Gant made it clear my invitation would come without notice. If it came tonight, I didn’t want to waste time going home.”

  “For…blood?”

  “The ritual Arno invoked included having Oliver for dinner. And not in the traditional way. Legend says, the blood of the person consumed can later have a negative effect and dissolve the ritual. Or it might not do a damn thing.”

  “That’s what I like about you, Nite. Your rock-solid plans.”

  The elevator slowed. Creed and Nadine aimed their barrels at the seam, but it parted to an empty hall. The decor reminded me of an old hospital corridor with peeling, innocuous gray wallpaper, a pale tile floor, and buzzing fluorescent lights one bzzzt away from blinking out.

  Rooms lined both walls. The steel doors on the left were deadbolted from the outside. The right corridor appeared unused. Doors were missing from the rooms. Lights hung broken from the ceiling. Stained, empty gurneys were piled like barricades. A lone wheelchair sat in the shadows. Turning from the abandoned section Evans would have proclaimed was haunted, we went left.

  The rooms we passed were all equally creepy, with hydraulic beds, sinks, tables, and various medical equipment. Something pale with six arms floated in a tall, bubbling tank. Flesh in various colors and textures hung in glass freezers. Humanoid remains, too mutilated to identify, were strapped to several of the beds. Blood and tissue clung to instruments and sheets.

  The end of the hall was marked by a thick curtain of yeren hide. Even knowing it’s masking properties, I wasn’t prepared for the abrupt smack of heady stench when I moved it aside. The double doors beyond had a gap in the center. I peered through to a cavernous, warehouse-style room, reminiscent of the factory basement. The tall ceiling was made lower by snaking ventilation ducts and shafts. Shiny meat hooks dangled from suspended pipes. None were occupied.

  Concrete walls, shelving, machines, work tables, and large, wooden crates divided the space and obstructed my view. Closer, a row of pens, like the ones on Nadine’s world, were deadbolted but unguarded. Must be my lucky day.

  There was no one in sight. The clatter of rapid movement, curt voices, and the noise of a high-pressure hose came from deeper within. The smell of smoke betrayed Gant’s actions. He was egotistical, yes, but not stupid. If there was a chance the police officer he’d abducted might escape, he had to clean house.

  I inched back from the door and looked at Nadine. “Free whatever creatures he’s keeping in those pens and get them through the exit. You know what to do with it after?” She nodded, and I looked at Creed. The urge to tell him to run was powerful. It was also a waste of time. “Don’t go far. Find a vantage point nearby and stay there. Cover Nadine and keep this door clear. We might be leaving in a hurry. Headshots,” I reminded him.

  “What’s your plan?” he said.

  “After I sneak past the pack of ninja werewolves? I’m going to make Gant wish my invitation got lost in the mail.”

  Thirty

  Even the best laid plans go awry. Spur-of-the-moment, patched together, bullshit plans usually hit a snag sooner than most. I’d expected to get a little more mileage out of this one, though. It started out so well.

  Creed and Nadine reached the captives without incident. He found a perch in the shadows, with a perfect sight line. She slid open the deadbolts and quietly reasoned with whatever was inside. I waited to make sure they weren’t spotted, then left my cover.

  The first uniformed guard went down without a hitch. The sickening stench masked my scent, and his own racket (hastily scooping tools into a container) hid my approach. Spying instruments on a table, I helped myself to a shiny scalpel. He squatted to pick something up and, a moment later, was on the floor with his throat cut.

  Two more died in similar fashion as I snuck past the machinery, winding farther and farther through the expansive building, stalking the sound of Gant’s voice.

  As it grew loud, I climbed on one of the tarp-covered crates. Stretching out on top, I spotted him in the back, right hand corner, surrounded by at least four dozen ulfar. A few were in human form, sliding trays of Gant’s precious skin into refrigerated wheeled carts. Others were tossing severed limbs into a small furnace. Several were armed, herding a line of chained creatures. The one with blue skin caught
my eye.

  Nyakree was still alive.

  As Gant barked out orders, the symbols on his scarred flesh glowed. Fluid escaped the slack seams of his patchworked skin. To burn the symbols before his guards could retaliate, and before Creed and Nadine were discovered, it would need to be done fast and hot. But my target wouldn’t stand still. There were too many crates in the way, too many wolves. I didn’t have a clear shot or time to wait for one. What I had was a desperate need to keep my secrets intact and my friends safe.

  Both worked against me.

  In my rush to eliminate Gant, I’d forgotten one tiny detail of his getaway: he hadn’t fled the stage alone. I’d also underestimated the role of the woman he left with. As his hostess dropped from the shadows to land on the crate—slamming her boot into my jaw and catapulting me off the edge—it was clear she wasn’t hired for her perky smile.

  Landing on the concrete floor below, impact sent a shockwave of aches through my body. Air exited my lungs. My crafted batons were still on top of the crate, and I was in full view of the bad guy and his furry minions.

  Three wolves bared fangs and dropped to all fours. Hackles raised and eyes wild, they padded toward me. Behind them, Gant halted their approach with a gesture they couldn’t possibly have seen. I understood why he called them off, as the hostess jumped down in front of me. The sword in her grip possessed a particularly, troublesome gleam. The blade was made from Drimeran metal.

  Donning a leisurely grin, she looked back at Gant. “May I?”

  “Go ahead, Meiko,” he replied. “Bring her to heel.”

  I shot him a glare. “You really have no idea how to talk to women.”

  Impatient, Meiko tapped her blade on the floor.

  I unsheathed my knife as I stood, and she lunged. Steel rang as I scrambled to deflect her sizeable sword. I managed to repel three more solid strikes. The fourth was less impressive. Unable to withstand the might of Drimeran metal, the tip snapped off my blade. Hers carried through. The edge sliced a bow from my sleeve, and a scratch across my arm.

  Tossing the broken knife, I leapt aside; barely dodging her tight, controlled swings. I watched her eyes, her stance, the rise and fall of her chest, the slight turn of her foot. When I had enough to anticipate her next move, I sidestepped a swift swipe at my throat, rolled past, came up, and thrust an elbow back at her head. She came around, swinging, but I was already down low, sweeping a leg out and knocking her off balance. As Meiko stumbled, the rumble of an explosion shook the floor.

  The sound originated from across the building. Nadine.

  Gant dispatched a handful of wolves to investigate. I was out of time.

  Rousing my fire, I lobbed a blazing sphere, striking the hostess in the face and sending her careening into a storage shelf. The legs collapsed, and the contents slid off, burying her smoking body beneath.

  I pivoted to unleash on Gant—and met snag number two, as a fierce jet of water struck my chest. Drained of both breath and fire, there wasn’t time to escape the unrelenting stream before another high-pressure hose joined the party and knocked me off my feet. The third pushed me swiftly back across the floor. I hit the wall, and the ulfar operating the hoses kept me there.

  Skin stinging, water clogging my mouth and nose, I reached out to my scales for protection. But my body wouldn’t respond. Its entire focus was on one thing: not drowning.

  It was a battle I was swiftly losing.

  The water finally shut off, and I fell limp like a ragdoll. Gagging and wheezing, I rolled onto my stomach and spewed up enough liquid for a halfway decent breath. It took another minute to make it to my hands and knees. My skin was red and throbbing. I was bruised, shivering, and soaked to the bone. I still struggled, as clawed hands clamped on and dragged me in front of Gant. I managed to cough out a little more water at his feet; relishing in his annoyance, until he booted me in the jaw.

  I wiped the blood from my lip and sat up. Moving the sopping wet curls off my face, I caught the gaze of the ciguapa across the room. Nyakree’s saucer eyes were strong and defiant as they met mine. She was ready for my next move. Whatever that is, I thought, unhappy to see circumstances had changed during my forced shower.

  I wasn’t alone on the floor.

  Nadine was beside me. Creed was on the other side of her. His glasses were gone. Neither were seriously injured, but both were bruised enough to suggest they’d put up a good fight.

  Leaning over, Nadine whispered, “I got the creatures out. And no one will be using the exit without a forklift. But there were too many, Dahl. If we didn’t surrender…”

  “I know. I’ll figure something out.” Except, we were underground, hurt, surrounded by ulfar, with the symbols on our captor’s marred skin glowing brightly. The only “something” I had would spill everything I’d been trying so hard to hold in. Yet, I wasn’t going to let Creed die for my secrets. There was just one little problem.

  My body was a mess.

  I needed two or three minutes, at least, before I could summon anything strong enough to save us. It didn’t seem like much. But in our current situation, a minute was a damn long time.

  Gant motioned at Creed. “Get him up.”

  “You don’t want to kill a cop,” I warned, pushing to my feet. “There’s too much heat on you already. If he goes missing, you’ll be the target of a manhunt.”

  “A wise observation,” Gant replied. “But I’ve already concluded my earlier directive was premature. The Detective is far more than a bag of organs.”

  The ulfar dragged Creed closer. Claws pressed against his neck, keeping him still, but the fight remained in his eyes. I met them with as much reassurance as I could before Gant gripped Creed’s head and captured his full attention. “My recent acquisition of the mayor’s loyalty has much potential,” he said, praising himself. “But you, Detective, are in a position to ensure the police never look my way again.”

  Creed pushed out a firm, “Fuck you.”

  “Oh, we’ll have none of that. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the promotions Anderson has in store for you. I know I will.” Gant’s grip tightened. The symbols pulsed. A patch of skin on his chest darkened and shriveled, and Creed stopped trying to look away. His muscles relaxed. His breathing slowed. A glaze moved in to banish the emotion from his eyes. “Much better,” Gant said. “Later, we’ll make this more permanent. A pound of flesh, as they say? For now, a test is in order.” He turned Creed to face me. Getting no resistance, he instructed his guard, “Give the detective some room.”

  One kept a clawed hand on Creed’s shoulder, but they released his arms.

  “And a weapon,” Gant added.

  “Whatever you’re playing at,” I said, “you know I can stop you.”

  “Yes, but how quickly? Human flesh is so fragile. It would take very little for my wolf to rip out his throat. And while you’re formidable, and conceivably desperate enough to show it, your friend will be dead before you reach him. At least, with me, he lives.”

  A handgun filled Creed’s grip. He tried to swing his arm to aim at Gant, but his body resisted. Sweat rose on his skin, as he strained to make his muscles work. Pushing harder, shuddering and panting with exertion, he managed to move a full inch.

  Gant glanced at his piece of stolen, human skin. It was drying and decaying swiftly, curling and loosening the threads. He pressed the dangling flesh in tighter, so it made full contact. The symbols pulsed again, and Creed turned the weapon squarely back on me.

  “Dahlia…” Fear widened his blue gaze. His panicked voice shook as much as his hand. “I can’t fight him. Tell me what to do.”

  I couldn’t. With a knife, I might take out the ulfar before he tore into Creed. But rushing them would end badly. My body was nearly ready for a hard, fast shot of flame, yet Creed was too close. He’d never survive. Cooperating, buying the time to formulate an escape, was the only way to keep him alive.

  I eyed the angle of his aim and said, “It’s okay. Just do it.”

  “
No.” Horrified, Creed shook his head. “I can’t. I won’t.”

  “You have to. He’s just trying to prove a point.” The asshole damn well knows I’ll heal, I thought. “If you don’t, he will kill you.”

  “Goddamn it!” Creed trembled harder. The claws pressed in tighter. One was poised at the edge of his throat, seconds away from drawing blood.

  “Please, Alex,” I begged. “I don’t want to watch you die.”

  Gant pushed the skin tighter against himself, and with an agonizing cry of surrender, Creed pulled the trigger. Pain tore through my stomach. Red spread across the front of my dress, and I stumbled.

  Nadine helped me to the floor. “That son of a bitch. Why didn’t you run?”

  “He wasn’t aiming for a kill shot.”

  “Dahl, I hate to break it to you, but that will kill you.”

  “Not right away. And if I moved, he might’ve hit something more vital.” Blood soaked my hands as I pressed them to the wound. Breathing through the pain, I said, “Sway him.”

  “Arno? They’ll never let me sing long enough.”

  “Not him.” My eyes darted to Creed, staring down in shock at the weapon in his hand. “You put Evans to sleep with a touch and a few words. I need you to get up there and do it again.”

  “Casey trusts me,” she argued. “And I’m low on juice.”

  “Your ability is natural, Nadine. Gant’s isn’t. You’re stronger than him. I know you are. You have to be,” I said, and she nodded. Fighting the growing ache in my gut, I covertly scaled both palms and gathered my heat. “Get Creed to the floor, then duck and cover.”

  “Sweetie, are you sure you have it in you?”

  I glanced at the welling blood. “We’re about to find out.”

  Nadine pushed her painted lips into a pout and stood. Head and shoulders slightly forward, chest caved, she made herself smaller and took a tentative step. “I didn’t want to do it, Arno. I know what the penalty is. But she threatened me.” Getting no response, Nadine tossed her hair and inched closer. “Extend my contract if you have to. Whatever you need me to do. Just keep that crazy bitch away from me.”