Cloak Games: Hammer Break

by Jonathan Moeller

  I killed another half-dozen anthrophages with a whirling sphere of fire and then shot a glance at Murdo just as his gun clicked empty. He didn’t reach for another clip, which I supposed meant he was out of ammo and was about to die. My conscience overrode my ruthlessness, and I started to turn, preparing to attack the anthrophages rushing up the stairs towards him.

  Instead, Rory Murdo cast a spell of his own.

  He made a sharp gesture, and a twin pair of lightning globes whirled into existence around him. The globes leaped forward and slammed into two of the charging anthrophages. The creatures rocked back with their usual metallic howls of pain, but the globes hadn’t hit them hard enough to kill.

  But before the anthrophages could react, Murdo cast another spell.

  A sword of lightning appeared in his right hand.

  I mean, an actual freaking sword, but instead of steel, it was made of snarling, spitting blue-white lightning. Riordan had been able to do something like that, but that had been a function of his Shadowmorph symbiont, and he had called forth a blade of pure darkness. Murdo’s lightning sword proved no less effective than Riordan’s Shadowmorph blade. He slashed the sword, taking off the head of one anthrophage, and then drove the blade through the chest of another.

  Turns out that he was just as good with a sword as he was with a gun.

  We wound up fighting back to back as I unleashed fire and ice and lightning with my magic and he wielded that lightning sword. Anthrophages died, frozen and burned and electrocuted, and black slime spattered across the carpets and the wallpaper. Murdo stood behind me, whipping that sword back and forth as he took limbs and heads from anthrophages with sharp, economical motions. Again and again, they almost ripped off his head or opened his throat, but he stayed ahead of them by mere inches, and they never laid a claw on him.

  I had been wrong. He wasn’t a good hand-to-hand fighter. He was masterful.

  I blasted a hole through the chest of another anthrophage, and I looked around, seeking more.

  But there weren’t any. We had killed them all.

  Rage boiled through me, my hands hooked into claws, and for an instant I was back in the Eternity Crucible, fighting the monsters of that place, and I had the sudden overwhelming urge to burn down the building.

  Murdo was staring at me like I was a bomb about to go off.

  I can only imagine what my expression looked like. I forced myself back to calm.

  “We need to get out here now,” said Murdo.

  “Right,” I said, “but first we have to do something about the cameras.” I pointed at the little black dome of a camera on a ceiling overhead. “All our fun is recorded somewhere. Fortunately, I know just where it is.”

  Murdo followed me as I ran back down the stairs to the sopping, smoking lobby. Dead anthrophages lay everywhere, alongside wrecked furniture and shattered glass. I had done a number on the place. Hopefully, the Rocky Mountain Mile had good insurance, but I wondered if any insurance covered anthrophage attacks.

  I jogged behind the front counter and into the security office. The door stood open, the chair inside lying on the ground. Whoever had been inside had wisely fled for his life when the fireworks started. One wall had flat-panel monitors showing dozens of views of the hotel and the grounds, and beneath the desk was a humming black box the size of a small refrigerator. It was the server that managed the hotel’s camera systems and stored the archive of the recordings.

  “Let’s wreck that,” I said.

  Murdo frowned. “Won’t it have already uploaded the video recordings to off-site data storage?”

  “Nah,” I said, flexing my fingers as I drew together power for another spell. “That’s a WTS Mark VIII control server. The Mark IX uploads its recordings every five minutes. The Mark VIII only does it every day at midnight to cut costs. The hotel went cheap, so…”

  Murdo nodded and slashed his lightning sword into the box. There was a snarling groan, a spray of sparks, and the server’s front plate fell to the ground with a clang.

  “Get the hard drives,” I said, pointing at the row of metal racks in the interior that held the server’s drives.

  “I have destroyed evidence before,” said Murdo in a dry voice, but he raked his sword across the drives, melting them to slag. The sword winked out of existence. “It’s done. Let’s get out of here.”

  I nodded and followed him. We ran through the wreckage of the lobby and out a side door. I saw a group of employees huddled at the far end of the vast parking lot, and the distant wail of approaching sirens, but no one stopped us. Murdo’s vehicle was a blue Royal Motors Adventurer SUV, and I scrambled into the passenger seat and tucked my backpack behind me as Murdo started the engine.

  We got the hell out of Denver.

  Chapter 4: Elemental Blade

  We drove in silence for about three hours.

  I remained tense, expecting to find Homeland Security on our tail. Murdo drove through Denver and got onto Interstate 70 East, and I spent the first two hours looking backward, watching for any signs of pursuit. Murdo had a radio scanner, and I made good use of it, listening to local Homeland Security radio chatter and the talk between long-distance truckers. I heard reports of an incident in Denver, and most of the local Homeland Security branch had been mobilized, but it didn’t seem like Colorado had been put on lockdown.

  After about three hours, we had gotten out of the mountains and crossed the border into Kansas, trading the mountains for endless plains, and I started to relax a little.

  But only a little.

  I was, after all, alone in an SUV with a very dangerous man, who was taking me to a meeting with a lot of other dangerous men.

  “All right,” I said into the silence.

  “Miss Stoker?” said Murdo. The black eyes glanced at me and then back at the interstate. There wasn’t much traffic in this part of Kansas. Oddly, he had seemed almost sad as he looked at me.

  “I think we’ve probably gotten away clean,” I said.

  Murdo grunted, his calm, professional expression settling back into place. “Most likely. The state branches of Homeland Security don’t cooperate well unless an Elven noble forces them into it. Which might happen once they find all those dead anthrophages at the hotel, but we’ll be on the other side of the Mississippi by then.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I think it’s time we had a little chat. Lay down some ground rules.”

  I expected him to take umbrage, but he only nodded. “That seems reasonable. I suspect we have a lot of problems to discuss.”

  “And I’ve got a hell of a lot of questions you’re going to answer,” I said.

  “Funny,” said Murdo, “because I’ve got questions for you.” He frowned. “I suppose we should do this in an orderly fashion. We’ve no reason to trust each other, so let’s take turns. You ask a question, and then I’ll ask one.”

  “Fine,” I said. “First question. Did you deliberately walk into a trap to get me killed?”

  Murdo let out a long breath. “If I did, I’m the world’s biggest idiot.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question, buddy.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” said Murdo. “I don’t know if you’ll believe me or not, but I had no idea what was going to happen. Our mutual employer…”

  “Nicholas Connor,” I said.

  Murdo nodded. “Connor told me to pick you up at the Rocky Mountain Mile and to bring you to the meeting point at Washington DC. For obvious reasons, he said to do it via car, rather than plane, train, or zeppelin.” I traveled everywhere by car because you needed to show ID to use planes, trains, and zeppelins, and that caused problems. “We are supposed to be at the meeting point by 8 PM tomorrow.”

  “And that was all he told you?” I said.

  Murdo’s lip twitched. “He…did make some impolite observations about you.”

  “Yeah, I can imagine,” I said. “But he didn’t say anything at all about the anthrophages? Nothing to give away that this was a trap?”
/>   Murdo shook his head. “No.” He switched lanes to pass a truck pulling a trailer full of cows. “Nothing. I know you don’t believe me, but I think this was a setup.” He shrugged. “If they had told me to kill you, I wouldn’t have done it like that. Sniper would have been better. Or a bomb under your chair.” He snorted. “And given the kind of magic I just saw you use, that might be the only way to safely kill you. A face-to-face confrontation would be suicide.”

  “Aw, that’s so sweet,” I said. “We just met. Save some of that sugar for later.”

  He gave me a flat look, and then snorted. “My turn for a question.”

  I nodded.

  “Do you think Connor set this up?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “No.”

  Murdo grimaced. “Why not?”

  “How long have you known Nicholas?”

  The grimace sharpened. “Too long.”

  “Then you know this isn’t how he operates,” I said. “He’s not above using big, showy terrorist tactics like bombs and mass shootings.” I thought of that stadium in Los Angeles. “But he knows my capabilities. Even without your help, I had a good chance of winning that fight at the Rocky Mountain Mile. Sending a mob of anthrophages after me was just sloppy and stupid, and that’s not his style.”

  “Then who did it?” Murdo held up a finger. “And that’s not my next question. It’s a continuation of the first one.”

  “What, were you a lawyer before you turned Rebel?” I said. “I don’t know. I pissed off some high-ranking Rebels last year, and the Dark Ones cultists don’t like me.” Corbisher and Swathe both might have the authority to summon that many anthrophages, and Nicholas’s girlfriend Hailey might know the spells to command them.

  Murdo frowned. “Connor’s lieutenants would go behind his back like that?”

  “I bet you haven’t been with the Rebels long.” I stared at him, wondering how he would react. “The Rebels are a bunch of mass-murdering scumbags, and they think they can use the Dark Ones like toys, which is pretty stupid. They talk about freeing mankind, but all they want to do is set up a government worse than anything the High Queen has ever done, and they want to be in charge of that government. One of the Rebel leaders I met said he would be happy to kill ninety percent of the human population if it meant the other ten percent could live free of the Elves, and he was probably one of the less extreme ones. So, yes, I’m entirely certain they would go behind his back to kill me if they thought they could get away with it.”

  “Suppose they’ll try something different next time,” said Murdo.

  “Yeah.” I stared out the window for a while. Kansas in late winter is kind of a bleak place. “All right. My turn for a question.”

  Murdo inclined his head.

  “Do you think someone set this up to kill you?”

  He considered it. “It is possible. I only recently joined the Rebels. I am afraid I am not yet held in high trust, which is likely why Connor sent me to pick you up since I doubt he trusts you either. I’m afraid that if I had been caught in that anthrophage ambush without your help, I would have had a much harder time of it.”

  I snorted. “Doesn’t look like you needed much help.”

  He smiled, briefly. “Nevertheless. Maybe Connor, or one of his lieutenants, arranged the trap to get rid of two problems at once.” His smile faded. “But that was a lot of anthrophages. I don’t think anyone in the Rebels or the Dark Ones cults would expend that much effort to kill me.”

  “Is that insulting or flattering?” I said.

  Again, Murdo gave me that flat look, and then, almost against his will, he smiled.

  “Given that bullets are involved, I’ll go with flattery,” said Murdo. “My turn for a question.”

  I nodded.

  “Are you a Rebel?”

  I frowned. “I just made that speech about how much I hate the Rebels, and you’re asking if I’m one of them?”

  “You made that speech as I’m driving you to meet with Nicholas Connor,” said Murdo, “and you’re not meeting with him for the first time. I already know a lot about you, Miss Stoker, but…”

  “Oh, yeah?” I said. “What do you know about me?”

  “You’re the shadow agent of an Elven lord or lady,” said Murdo. “That’s where you learned magic. The Elven noble has a hold over you, likely an illness with one of your family members, and that’s how the lord or lady compelled you into working for them. Except something awful happened to you, and now you’re working for the Rebels.”

  I felt a chill. “Nicholas told you all that.”

  “Connor didn’t tell me anything useful,” said Murdo. “I’m not blind, and I’m not stupid. I’ve seen this kind of thing before. So. Are you a Rebel or not?”

  The question hung in the air. It seemed important to Murdo. Maybe he was trying to find out if I was on his side or not.

  “You know what?” I said, annoyed. “You want the truth, buddy? I’m not a Rebel. I’m not part of your glorious Revolution or whatever the hell Nicholas is calling it this week. I’m only helping Nicholas because my Elven noble forced me to do it. She made a deal.” I remembered my lie to Nicholas that I worked for an Elven noblewoman. “I have to steal three things for Nicholas, and then I’m done with him and his stupid Revolution.”

  “I see,” said Murdo.

  His flat tone only made me angrier, so I leaned closer to him.

  “And when the deal is done,” I said, “I’m going to stop him and whatever murderous thing he’s going to do. So, Rory Murdo, if you’re spying for Nicholas, you can take that back to him. Tell him everything he already knows.” I dropped back into my seat. “I’m not a Rebel.”

  “Then why does Nicholas tolerate you?” said Murdo.

  It was my turn for a question, but I was too angry to care. “Because he needs me. I can do things that no one else can. But once he doesn’t need me, he’s going to kill me. At least, he’ll try.”

  Murdo grunted. “I guess his lieutenants might not see it that way. Which is why they sent the anthrophages to kill you. That explanation makes the most sense.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Now. My turn. Are you a Rebel?”

  Murdo sighed. “Yes. I have committed myself to the Revolution.” He did not sound happy about it. “I share your assessment of their unsavory nature. But suffice it to say, I was…compelled to join them.”

  “Right,” I said. I started to say that was a bullshit answer, but he spoke first.

  “My question,” said Murdo. “Something terrible happened to you. What was it?”

  I blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

  “I just killed twenty-three anthrophages,” said Murdo. “You killed four times as many.” His dark eyes regarded me for a moment, and then turned back to the road. “I have never, ever seen a human use magic of that potency before, and I have seen some powerful human wizards. Watching you fight was like watching an Elven noble in battle in the Shadowlands. And yet you look like a human woman of…what, twenty-five?”

  “Twenty-two,” I said in a quiet voice. My body was nearly twenty-two years old.

  My mind was much, much older.

  “Then…what happened to you?” said Murdo. “It had to have been something terrible.”

  He sounded almost concerned.

  For a moment or two, I couldn’t find the words to answer.

  You have to understand. I hadn’t talked to anyone about the Eternity Crucible, not ever. Well, I had talked to Morvilind, but that didn’t count. I hadn’t talked to anyone who might care. I mean, what could I do? Burden the Marneys and Russell with that knowledge? Walk into a therapist’s office and tell him that I had died every day for a hundred and fifty-eight years, and ask if he had some pamphlets about breathing techniques for managing stress?

  I hadn’t realized how badly I wanted to talk about what had happened to me. No one could fix me, but I wanted someone to at least listen.

  “Miss Stoker?”

  I blinked. I had
been quiet for a while. I heard a creaking noise, and realized that I was gripping the armrests hard enough that my knuckles had turned white.

  I made myself relax.

  “Bad things,” I said in a quiet voice. “Bad things happened to me. I’m not going to talk about it.”

  Murdo nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  On reflex, I started to snarl at him, started to tell him to go to hell, started to tell him just where he could stuff his words.

  But he sounded like he meant it, and the lines on his face seemed to have gotten a little sharper.

  Maybe it was all just a ploy to win my trust.

  Or maybe bad things had happened to him too.

  “Thanks,” I said, and I stared out the window for a while.

  We didn’t talk again for an hour. The scenery didn’t change. God, but driving across certain parts of the Great Plains can be monotonous.

  “It’s your turn for a question,” said Murdo at last.

  “Oh, yeah,” I said. “Hey, wait, yeah. I’m not the only one in this SUV who knows magic. You cast spells during the battle. Where did you learn them? Are you some Elven lord’s shadow agent as well?”

  “No,” said Murdo. “I’ve encountered shadow agents before, but I’ve never been one. I was in the Wizard’s Legion.”

  “Huh,” I said. “Aren’t the men of the Legion supposed to be all enthusiastic for the High Queen? You’re her personal troops.”

  “Yeah,” said Murdo.

  “So how do you go from a soldier of the Wizard’s Legion to the Rebels?” I said.

  Murdo sighed. “I was compelled. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, or at least my necessary ally.”

  “You’re not a Dark Ones cultist?” I said.

  Murdo scowled. “No. The Dark Ones are dangerous and malicious. The Rebels might have had the moral high ground, once upon a time. The High Queen has brought order and peace to Earth, but she does it with a ruthless hand. But to worship the Dark Ones…the Rebels have crossed every line. Have you ever encountered someone possessed by a Dark One?”