Aaron and Ezra followed as we boldly approached the building, passing an industrial but sort of pretty water feature that bordered the broad sidewalk. Zak reached the glass doors, grabbed a handle, and pulled. It opened without resistance.
The four of us entered a grand concourse, the ceiling three times the height of the doors. Upscale shops, closed for the night, faced a wide swath of shiny tiled floor, and an understated security desk sat in the middle of the space. The only illumination came from the street, shining through the endless windows.
“Is it supposed to be abandoned?” I asked, my quiet voice echoing.
“Not sure,” Aaron muttered.
Zak approached a bank of elevator doors lining a short hall and jabbed the call button. Nothing happened. No light to indicate an elevator had been summoned. No dings or glowing numbers to show what floor the elevators were on and how long we needed to wait for one to return to ground level.
Aaron crossed to a door with a small sign that marked the stairwell. “Guess we’re taking the stairs.”
This building was over thirty stories tall. He didn’t actually think I could climb thirty flights in one go, did he? Because I did not have buns of steel, unlike these guys.
Opening the door, Aaron peered inside. “Shit. The lights are off in here too. Is the power out?”
“Guess we can’t take the stairs either,” I said brightly. “What a shame.”
Aaron flicked on the light attached to his protective vest and grinned at me. I grumbled under my breath.
Ezra turned on his light as well, then tugged up the tops of his steel-reinforced bad-guy-smasher gloves. “You can do it, Tori.”
“I’m pretty sure I can’t,” I muttered, reluctantly following them into the dark, echoing stairwell.
To no one’s surprise, twenty-six flights proved me right.
“I … am … going … to … die,” I panted with each agonizing step. “Just … die.”
“One more flight to go,” Ezra assured me, two steps behind, his light illuminating the endless mountain of concrete stairs waiting for me.
“You’ve been saying that for ten flights now!” I accused between gasps.
“It’s true. There’s one more to go. And then one more, and probably one more after that. At least.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Hurry up, you two!” Aaron called in a low voice from the floor above us. “The impatient asshole is already on the thirtieth floor.”
My thigh muscles screamed in protest as I dragged my foot up another step, lungs heaving, limbs trembling, stomach threatening to chuck up my dinner. Tears of pain and frustration stung my eyes as I tried to make my abused muscles move faster. A two-minute breather, please. A thirty-second breather. Something. Anything.
But we didn’t have time for that.
Clutching the railing, I forced myself to the next landing and faced another flight. Oh god. Stairs. Who invented these torture devices? I could’ve kept up okay on flat ground—probably—but you could only repeat the same motion so many times before your muscles were all, “Screw this shit,” and quit entirely.
Ezra caught my wrist, tugging me back as I lifted a trembling leg onto the first step.
“Tori,” he said, “let me help.”
“I can do it,” I groaned, grabbing the railing to pull myself onto the step.
He tugged me back again and I slumped against him. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he put his mouth against my ear and whispered, “We won’t tell them. You can have a few minutes to breathe.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, furious and ashamed that I couldn’t keep up. “Okay.”
Pulling his pole-arm off his magnetic baldric, he crouched in front of me, and I hauled my exhausted body onto his back. Hooking his arms under my legs, he jogged up the stairs. I clutched his shoulders, grumbling about his impossible strength and stamina.
Five flights later, when Aaron’s and Zak’s voices echoed around the next bend in the stairwell, Ezra let me slide off his back. He swung his pole-arm over his shoulder, the metal clamping to his baldric, and continued upward.
The short break had done wonders for my poor legs, and I was barely limping as I puffed up the last flight. Zak and Aaron waited beside a door with a large “32” painted on the white wall beside it. The druid had pushed his hood back, and I was pleased to see perspiration shining on his face and Aaron’s. Thirty flights hadn’t been a breeze for them either.
“Why this floor?” I asked as I joined them, Ezra beside me. “Not the top?”
Aaron pointed at the door. A tall, skinny window interrupted the steel face, just wide enough to see if there was a person on the other side. His vest light shone across the pane.
Red droplets ran down the glass, a bloody handprint smearing the gory splatter.
Chapter Seventeen
“Holy shit,” I whispered.
“Varvara—or her pawns—beat us here,” Zak rumbled, cool and businesslike. “There are three floors left—this one, and the next two. We should split up and search them.”
“No,” Aaron countered immediately. “We have no idea what we’re up against. The Miuras and their people could attack us too. We’re safer together.”
“We should start at the top,” Ezra suggested. “Kai and Makiko are probably on the penthouse level, and if Varvara hasn’t made it up there yet, we can warn them.”
“Right.” Aaron nodded. “Let’s go.”
He shot up the stairs at a quick jog, and Zak followed. Ezra grabbed my hand and pulled me with him as we sprinted up the final two flights. My legs were on fire by the time we reached the top—and found the door hanging open, one hinge broken. Deep scratches marred the steel as though someone, or something, had smashed its way inside.
Aaron drew Sharpie, the long blade coming free of its sheath with a slithering sound. Ezra pulled his pole-arm off his back, and I unholstered my paintball gun, loaded with sleep potions.
Zak drew his hood up again, then pushed his coat open so it wouldn’t impede access to his belt, test-tube-shaped vials circling his hips. He stepped into the dark corridor. Aaron went in second, his vest light flashing across the walls. More deep scratches tore through the beige paint.
Spotting a panel of light switches, I flipped them up and down, but nothing happened. No power. Finding Kai could take a while—unless I could speed up the process.
I reached into my belt’s large back pouch, my fingers brushing across a gently ridged surface. Hoshi?
Her dormant form uncoiled in a burst of silvery scales. The bluish sylph floated out of my belt, her huge pink eyes turning from me to Zak. She spiraled around me, her odd little antennae bobbing.
The men watched as I patted her nose. “Hoshi, can you look around and see if Kai is somewhere on this level?”
As I spoke, I pictured what I meant in my mind—Kai’s face, the building, and an imaginary little scene where the sylph led him back to me. She nuzzled my hand, replaying some of my images along with flashes of color and patterns I didn’t understand. Whatever they meant, they gave me a positive vibe.
Her tail squeezed around my waist and she pushed her cool nose into my cheek. Another image flickered inside my head: Zak’s face, but with Lallakai’s features overlaid on his. The sylph couldn’t communicate with words, but I felt her meaning: Be careful.
She slid her tail away, then launched down the corridor in a flowing ribbon of silver.
Zak watched her go, then glanced back at me. “Interesting.”
“What?” I asked nervously, Hoshi’s warning crowding my thoughts.
“She won’t talk to me anymore.”
Based on the sylph’s telepathic vision, I suspected it wasn’t the druid she didn’t want to interact with.
We continued down the corridor, Zak in the lead, Aaron behind him, Ezra and I bringing up the rear. The soft carpet absorbed our footsteps, the simple walls interrupted by blank doors. The quiet was unnerving, and I huddled closer than necessary to Ezra’s
side. His head turned, his senses attuned not only to sight and sound but also to the minute shift of air around us.
“Maybe there’s no one here,” I whispered, gripping my paintball gun. “What if—”
A distant boom shook the floor. The overhead lights sparked and flickered weakly before going dark again.
Aaron launched into a sprint, shoving past Zak. The druid rushed after him, and I belatedly pushed my tired legs into motion. With Ezra following, I chased the two guys down the corridor. Aaron whipped around the corner, out of sight, and Zak disappeared after him.
Aaron shouted wordlessly, a sound of shock.
Ezra and I flew around the corner and I came up short, my eyes widening. Aaron and Zak had stopped just ahead of us, but even the two tall, broad-shouldered men, standing side by side, couldn’t block my view of what waited beyond them.
The hall had widened, resembling a posh hotel with numbered doors and oil paintings decorating the walls—where they hadn’t been torn off. The source of the damage stood in the middle of the corridor, so out of place I could barely wrap my head around it.
Welded steel formed the rough shape of a four-legged animal. Blocky head with no features except for a large mouth full of crude teeth. Heavy legs with clawed feet. Gears for joints. Spikes running down its back. And the entire thing was covered in runes that glowed pale red, almost pink.
The steampunk wolf opened its mechanical mouth—and green liquid spouted from its metal gullet.
Aaron and Zak dove aside, and Ezra grabbed me around the waist as he leaped clear. The jet of fluid shot twenty feet down the center of the hall and splashed across the floor. The rug bubbled, reeking white steam roiling off it.
“Caustic poison,” Zak barked. “It’ll eat right through your weapons.”
And, obviously, our poor human flesh.
The mechanical creature launched at Zak with thundering steps. He jumped across the bubbling line of potion to Aaron’s side of the hall, and the clanking wolf whirled after him.
Flames erupted across Aaron’s arms and shot down his blade. He whipped Sharpie in an arc and the blade swung into the canine’s hollow snout with an ear-splitting clang. Fire exploded down the sword, washing over the steel body. The thing didn’t even slow, its lumbering steps backed by several hundred pounds of momentum.
“Shit!” Aaron dodged sideways. “Are these Varvara’s specialty or something? I remember them from last time—they don’t like to die.”
Last time? The memory popped into my panicked brain: suits of armor coming to life in Varvara’s garden; Aaron and Ezra hacking at the metal bodies, unable to stop the enchanted armor.
“What is it?” I squealed from behind Ezra. “Should I shoot it?”
“It’s a golem.” Scarlet light swirled off Zak’s right hand and a curved saber took form in his grip. “Don’t waste your ammo.”
As the thing charged, he swung his saber down. It sliced through the golem’s steel muzzle, but the unstoppable monstrosity bowled into him, oblivious to the new split in its face.
Zak rolled clear, shot to his feet, and struck its neck again. His fae blade ripped through the steel. The golem pivoted, its head hanging on its half-severed neck—but it didn’t seem to notice.
Clanking steps vibrated the floor.
A second wolfish golem stomped around the corner, mouth gaping. What looked horribly like blood dripped from its triangular teeth. It charged like a steel bull, forcing Zak and Aaron to press into the wall to avoid it.
Ezra shot forward. With a gust of wind to propel him, he leaped over the nearer golem, landed between the two, and slammed the butt of his pole-arm down on the one’s half-severed head. Its head tore off with a hideous shriek of metal, and Ezra smashed the other end of his pole-arm in the second one’s side. It jolted from the impact, its side dented in—but the dent did no more to stop it than decapitation had stopped the other golem.
Zak rammed his saber into the neck hole of the headless golem and sliced upward. It lunged into him, almost crushing him against the wall.
“Zak!” Aaron yelled as he dodged around the second one. “How do we kill these things?”
He and Ezra slammed their weapons into their golem from either side. It pivoted with far too much speed for a clumsy hunk of metal, its teeth snapping for Aaron’s thigh. Ezra thrust his pole-arm into its mouth to save Aaron’s leg. Steel teeth crunched down on his weapon and tore it from his grasp.
“There’s an animation array somewhere inside it.” A yellow wire—the same spell Zak had used to dangle a rogue off a building—spiraled out of his hand and wrapped around his golem’s legs, halting its charge. It strained against the binding. “You have to destroy it!”
“I’m a mage,” Aaron snarled, evading another charge. “Why the hell would I know what an animation array looks like?”
“Or you can just wait. The magic only lasts ten or twelve minutes in combat.”
“Not helpful!”
Alone at the edge of the fight, I slammed my paintball gun into its holster. Useless. What else did I have? I shuffled through my pouches as Ezra ducked away, weaponless, and Aaron held Sharpie defensively, its blade useless against the steel-bodied golem. Zak was doing only slightly better, his golem immobilized as he sank his saber into a geared joint, disabling its foreleg.
Aaron’s golem swung its huge head, Ezra’s pole-arm stuck in its mouth, and rammed the pyromage off his feet. As it jumped on him, Ezra drove his steel-reinforced fist into the heavy brute, adding a blast of wind to knock it off its feet.
It slid half a foot with scarcely a wobble. Even Ezra’s demonic strength wasn’t enough, and he didn’t have a proper weapon—
But I did. I had the perfect weapon for him.
I whipped my brass knuckles out of their pouch, drew my arm back, and shouted, “Ezra!”
He looked toward me, and I flung the brass knuckles. All my practice tossing potion balls finally paid off—the artifact flew in a beautiful arc and he caught it out of the air.
“Punch the golem again!” I yelled. “The incantation is ori amplifico!”
He shoved the brass knuckles on his hand as Aaron twisted, a clawed steel foot almost landing on him. The golem’s paw hit the floor, cracking the concrete under the rug. Aaron was trapped, about to be crushed.
Air whooshed down the corridor.
“Ori amplifico!” Ezra shouted, wind forming around his hand, muscles bulging in his arm. His fist slammed into the golem’s shoulder. The air boomed in a bone-breaking concussion. Steel split wide open under the impact and the golem crashed down on its side, almost crushing Aaron’s ankle.
Its legs screeched against the floor, but its metal joints were too inflexible. It couldn’t get up.
“Ezra, Zak, over here!” I rushed forward, pulling out my Queen of Spades. “Aaron, time to make it hot!”
“I can’t melt them, Tori!” he shouted in exasperation, scrambling to his feet.
“You can make it hot enough to mess up the spell arrays, though!” I grabbed Zak’s sleeve and dragged him away from his mechanical opponent. He snapped his golden spell away, and the golem staggered awkwardly on three working legs. The other golem was still waving its feet like a mindless robot. One foot caught on the floor and its body rocked.
Aaron raised his switch, pointing the blade at the ceiling. “Ready?”
I thrust the Queen of Spades out, Zak and Ezra safely behind me. “Ready!”
The metallic scent of ozone stung my nose. Shimmers of superheated air rippled over Aaron’s sword, faint blue flames licking up the steel as it glowed.
He swung his sword down. A wall of blue and white fire exploded across the golems—and straight toward us.
“Ori repercutio!” I cried.
The air rippled and the fire rebounded into the golems. The inferno collided with itself, white sparks flying, the walls scorching black, the carpet igniting. The flames swirled wildly, heat blasting me, then shrank.
The golems reapp
eared. The one Ezra had knocked over, its split side glowing red from heat, no longer moved. The radiant markings over its body had disappeared. But the other, its extremities steaming with heat, creaked in an awkward half circle, its gaping neck hole pointed at Aaron.
A loud pop echoed from inside its body. I heard the splash of liquid, then sizzling. Steam poured out of the golem’s joints, and a horrible burnt stench assaulted my nose.
The golem’s glowing runes faded to darkness, and it went still.
Aaron lowered his sword. His half-melted vest barely clung to him, and his shirt was no more than a few blackened shreds.
“I hate golems,” Zak muttered.
“Me too,” I volunteered.
“Same here,” Ezra agreed. “Aaron, did my pole-arm survive?”
Aaron tilted his head, then kicked at the golem’s jaw. “Nope. Fused to its teeth.” He peeled off the remains of his vest one-handed, then lifted his leather baldric off. It was blackened and the top had burned away. “Damn.”
Ezra tossed me the brass knuckles. “Thanks, Tori.”
“No problem.”
Zak leaned over the unmoving golem, sniffing at the lingering odor. “What is that? Another potion?”
“It’s blood.”
Zak glanced questioningly at Aaron.
The pyromage shrugged. “Burning shit is my area of expertise. That smells like burnt blood. Mostly.”
“Blood as part of a golem array?” Zak muttered. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Can we worry about it later?” I tucked the Queen of Spades and the brass knuckles back into their pouches. “I’d like to get the hell away from here in case more golems show up to—”
With a pale flash, Hoshi swept right through the nearest wall. As she whirled around me, an image filled my head: Kai, blood running down his face, skin smudged with soot, the flickering light of flames washing over him.
“Holy crap!” I yelped. “Lead the way, Hoshi!”
She zoomed ahead of me and I charged after her, leaving the guys in the dust.
“Tori!” Aaron sprinted after me. “Did Hoshi find Kai?”
Druid Vices and a Vodka: The Guild Codex: Spellbound / Six Page 16