The Obsidian Order Boxed Set

by martinez, katerina

  I couldn’t tell why, but already I couldn’t stand the sight of them.

  A strange, guttural feeling bubbled inside of me halfway between frustration and anger. One of the guys turned his eyes up, and I had the sense to duck out of sight before he could see me or my glowing wings, but I had a feeling I hadn’t been fast enough. “Shit,” I said under my breath, “Shit, shit… he saw me.”

  Draven approached the edge of the rooftop and scanned the streets below. He shook his head. “No,” he whispered, “If he did, none of them have said anything.”

  The sound of more laughter rising from the street eased my heart a little. “Thank fuck. Alright, the plan is, we find a quiet way into the place, look for the head office, and find Slade.”

  “Better plan—we bust the front door wide open, weapons drawn, and call the guy out.”

  “Yeah… no. We’re not doing that. Seriously, for a big shot like you, that’s a sucky plan.”

  “Maybe I’m just trying to impress you with my bravado.”

  “Well, cut it out. I don’t like it.”

  Grinning, he nodded. “Okay, we’ll try your plan. There’s an alley next to the strip joint right there. That’s where we’ll make our entrance.”

  “No time like the present… lead the way.”

  The closer we got to the strip club, the quieter we needed to be. We had no idea how easily mages would be able to detect us, so we had to work on the assumption that they were really good at it. That kept us on our toes, kept us from making stupid mistakes that would get us caught.

  I didn’t know of any spells I could use to hide my magic aura, and neither did Draven, so we had to rely on the guys hanging out on the street either a) not being mages at all, or b) being really shit mages. If we couldn’t fool their magic senses, we didn’t want to be seen or heard. That meant we had to take the long way around the block to come at the bar from the back.

  A chain-link fence in an alley stood between us and the bar’s side door. It was open a little. Hanging through the gap between the door and the wall was a hand gripping a cigarette. Draven clung tightly to the wall of the club as we approached, the shadows thankfully keeping us hidden from sight.

  “Wait here,” I said.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked.

  “I’m going to get us in.”

  “Don’t you think you should let me do that?”

  “Just wait, okay?”

  I pushed away from the wall, took a few steps back, and then dashed toward the chain-link fence. At the last minute, I jumped high enough to clear the distance and landed gracefully on the other side. Or, at least, semi-gracefully. My foot had landed in a puddle and made a little splash, catching the smoker’s attention.

  Instinct guiding me, I threw myself behind a nearby dumpster and stuck as closely to it as I could. I peered over the top, and there I spotted the smoker stepping out of the bar. He was tall, with a top-knot and a thick beard, and looked like he’d been pulled right out of a biker magazine.

  He took one last drag of the cigarette as he scanned the dark alley, then pitched it into the same puddle I’d landed in. When he turned around to head back inside, I made my move, springing like a pit viper out from the cover of darkness and rushing toward him.

  The biker guy turned around at the last minute, he opened his mouth to speak, or scream. I wrapped one hand around his mouth, tucked one of my feet behind his legs, and shoved him hard in the chest. He went down on his back, slamming his head against the ground and biting his tongue.

  He grabbed the back of his head and groaned, but then his eyes shot open and he saw me. Right away something started happening to my body. All at once my insides felt like they were starting to burn and chill. He wasn’t speaking, or moving his hands, or chanting in any way, but I could feel his magic at work inside of my body, insidious and unstoppable.

  Before my body could seize up, I grabbed my dagger from its sheath and pressed it against his throat. “D-d-d-don’t!” I chattered, “Un-un-unless you wanna d-d-d-die.”

  The biker mage’s magic slowly receded, but only reluctantly. He stared at me, his eyes burning with the want—the need—to murder me and spray my guts all over the alley. I could’ve killed him, sure. My knife was pressed against his neck, the tip only just biting into his flesh. One wrong move from him, and I’d open his throat in an instant.

  “Better,” I said, once my body temperature equalized. “Now, don’t get any ideas and nobody has to get hurt.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” he spat.

  “Not important. I’m looking for Slade. Is he in there?”

  “Why? You gonna kill him?”

  “I just wanna talk.”

  Biker mage scoffed. “Slade isn’t gonna talk to just any random bitch from the street.”

  “How about Valoel’s sister?”

  I could see it in his eyes, the recognition. He knew that name, and by the look on his face, he feared it too. “Bullshit…”

  “Bullshit? No.” I teased his neck with my dagger. “I don’t bullshit. I also don’t want to have to kill you, which I could. I could kill you and walk through that door right there, and I’m sure I’ll find who I’m looking for after I’ve killed enough of your friends. Looks to me like you have a choice. Help me out, or be the reason why your friends’ lives end tonight.”

  Draven must have come into view, because biker mage’s eyes moved across my shoulder. Maybe Draven’s presence had been enough to seal the deal, or maybe my threat had been enough, but the mage nodded. “Fine,” he grunted, “I’ll take you to him.”

  “Good… but just remember, I don’t need this knife to kill you. One misstep, and there’s gonna be a whole lot of blood in that bar tonight.”

  I drew myself up to standing, keeping the tip of my blade trailed on the mage as he hoisted himself up. Draven walked up next to me and stared at the mage, his black eyes low and sinister. The mage dusted himself off, then he walked toward the side door to the bar, opened it, and signaled for us to go inside.

  “Not subtle,” Draven whispered. “But very hot.”

  Grinning, I walked ahead of him and went where the biker mage directed me to go. The sound of music was stronger here, as was the smell of whiskey, testosterone, and about fifty different kinds of cheap perfumes. I’d talked the talk back there when I threatened the guard, but now I had to walk the walk. I knew I was stepping into a den of snakes, so it was time to make sure my A-game was on point.

  There were a couple of closed doors in the passageway. Behind one of them was where the music and the smell of booze and erections wafted out of. Behind the other, well… that was where the biker mage seemed to be headed. Good thing, too. I didn’t want to have to deal with Slade surrounded by tits and ass.

  I needed to work out my plan. I’d come here with the intention of taking Slade out. If there was going to be blood on my hands, it was only going to be his. Now that I was here, though, I wondered if there was more to be gained from talking to him—maybe even turning him away from Valoel.

  The mage opened the unassuming black door and stepped through ahead of me. I’d barely glimpsed the inside of that office, and already I could tell there was something off about it. The dimensions weren’t right. It smelled heavily of musky cologne and, alcohol, and sex. It probably was no better in here than it was on the main floor.

  The room itself seemed to stretch way more than it should’ve been able to. The room’s black walls were covered in beautiful, silver markings that looked almost like floral patterns. At the opposite end of the room, in front of a ceiling to floor window that impossibly seemed to overlook New York’s skyline, was a black mahogany desk. A lonely computer monitor was all that was on it.

  Off to the side of the room was the man I’d come to see. He lounged on a black bed with blood red sheets, a Rockstar wearing leather pants and a black shirt popped at the collar. Lying next to him wearing only a flimsy G-string was a blonde woman with the most ridiculous body I’d
ever seen in my life.

  She was feeding him grapes.

  His dark eyes turned to us when the biker mage entered. “What have I told you about interruptions, Marcus?” he asked, his voice soft and smooth, but sharp—like a fine wine laced with poison.

  “Sorry, boss,” Marcus said, “She insisted… says she needs to talk to you.”

  The man blinked softly, his eyes then falling upon me. He was stunningly good looking—black hair to frame his pale, chiseled face; dark eyes; a muscular body. He took the grapes from the woman and set them down on a nightstand and without saying a word. The woman he was with slid off the bed and walked toward us, then past us.

  “You,” he said, staring at me. “Your hair…”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “What about it?” I asked. I still hadn’t gotten past the door.

  “I want to know more about it. Are you armed?”

  “Always.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you left your weapons by the door. There’s no need for them here.”

  “Says the mage who doesn’t need a weapon to hurt someone.”

  “True, but you are in my establishment so if you want the privilege of an audience, you’ll play by my rules or you’ll leave.”

  “And if we don’t?” Draven asked.

  The man lounging on the bed—Slade-—grinned. “The alternative is obvious, isn’t it? You’d never make it out of this club alive.”

  “I think you’re underestimating us.”

  “I highly doubt that. Your weapons, please.”

  Marcus stepped aside and opened a small cupboard near the door. I guessed I was expected to deposit my dagger in there. A slight chill moved through me as I noticed the cupboard wasn’t empty. There was a gun in there, two ceremonial daggers, and one amulet that looked like it came straight out of ancient Egypt. Who did those belong to? Why hadn’t they been reclaimed?

  I wasn’t happy about it, but I slid the dagger into the cupboard. Draven was next. He withdrew his sword from its sheath and stared at the cupboard. “It won’t fit,” he said.

  “It’ll fit,” Slade offered his assurances as he poured three glasses of whiskey into three glasses.

  Hesitating, Draven moved the sword into the cupboard, and the cupboard swallowed it with no problem. It looked now like the thing had no end; another distortion of reality, like the room itself.

  Mages.

  Marcus closed the cupboard and excused himself, shutting the door as he left the room. Slade, meanwhile, walked over to me with one of the glasses of whiskey and a sly smile across his lips. I went to take the glass from his hand, but he pulled it away at the last second.

  “Do you dance?” he asked.

  “Dance?” I asked, looking at him, puzzled.

  “Yes. Dance.”

  “I… don’t.”

  “You should. If you danced at my club, with that body?” he eyed me up and down like I was a tasty steak, “You’d make a killing.”

  “Don’t you mean you’d make a killing?”

  Slade’s grin widened, and he handed me the drink. Draven’s, however, he left on the cabinet. I saw him out of the corner of my eye. It was usually hard to read him, but by the way his jaw was repeatedly clenching, I could tell he wasn’t exactly happy right now.

  “Please, this way,” Slade said. “We can sit at my desk or on my bed. It’s up to you.”

  “Desk, please,” I said, following him.

  Draven came up behind me and took a seat after I did. Slade circled around his desk, sat down at his tall chair, and drank deep of his whiskey until all that was left were the two ice cubes. He swirled it around in his hand a couple of times, making the ice cubes clink. Then he set the glass down on a coaster and stared at me from across his desk.

  “I hear you call yourself Valoel’s sister,” he said.

  I narrowed my eyes. “I didn’t say that to you.”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t hear you.”

  “Right… well, then in that case you have one over on me.”

  “I have a few more than just one over on you. Why do you think I even allowed you to enter my office to begin with? I wouldn’t allow just anyone in here.”

  I scanned the bed, then looked over at him again. “So, if you knew we were here, and that you’d let us in, you waited with that girl in your bed… why? To look cool?”

  “Can’t a man display a little opulence in front of guests?”

  “Depends. Are you trying to impress us?”

  “Depends. Are you worth impressing?”

  A pause. “If you know I’m Valoel’s sister, then you know why I’m here.”

  “You want to dissuade me from joining his cause, his crusade. It’s a noble thing of you to want, I’ll give you that. My question to you is why do you even want to stop him?”

  “Because whatever Valoel has promised you, there’s no way he’s going to deliver. That man is vile, and treacherous, and he’ll sell you out the moment it suits him.”

  “Which suits me considering I’d gladly sell him out for the right price.”

  “Are your allegiances truly so flexible?” Draven asked.

  Slade turned his eyes on Draven. “It’s very rare I get to meet with someone of your kind,” he said, “Especially someone with eyes like yours. What must the world look like to you?”

  “Too bright.”

  “I can imagine…” Slade looked over at me. “You’ve taken two great risks tonight. Number one was coming here, and number two was revealing yourself to be a blood relative of someone who has made himself something of a personality among my kind. Valoel hasn’t exactly been cloak and dagger in his recruitment efforts. Anyone who joins him is declared a champion of change. Those who don’t, are quickly labelled enemies of his cause and promised slow, painful deaths at the time of the Great Purging.”

  “Great Purging?” I asked.

  Slade shook his head. “I think we’ve reached the limit of what I’m willing to tell you without a better offer than the one Valoel put at my feet.”

  “What did he offer you?”

  A soft smile washed across his face. “Everything I want. It’s going to be hard to beat that.”

  “You’ve been promised a lie,” Draven said. “Everything you want? I thought mages were meant to be smart. You must be dumb as shit if you’ve believed him.”

  “I did think his offer was a little unbelievable at first. I, like anyone, had my doubts. But it checks out.”

  “Checks out?” I asked, “You mean he gave you proof?”

  Slade’s eyes flitted away from me and Draven for an instant. I could tell his attention was elsewhere in the room, fixated on a point behind us maybe. It was the same kind of small distraction Bastet was prone to getting, only he didn’t talk to it. My back prickled all over, and I stiffened in response.

  “He’s an interesting man, Valoel,” Slade said, “Blessed with very interesting abilities. Among them is the power to see into the future.”

  “I refuse to believe that,” Draven said, “That isn’t an Aevian gift.”

  “Maybe not, but he says he’s surpassed what it means to be Aevian. Something about the stone he carries with him. It’s similar to the one you have, right?”

  My body chilled. “Stone?” I asked, playing the part.

  “I have personally been blessed with three great gifts. The first is an excellent judge of character. The second is a keen awareness of my surroundings—even in places where I’m not present.”

  “What’s the third?” I asked.

  He cocked an eyebrow and looked across to the bed. “I would show you, but I’d have to ask your friend to leave first.”

  From cold to hot. My insides thawed, then burned over. I wasn’t sure how much more of this I could take.

  “You’re a disrespectful asshole, aren’t you?” Draven snapped.

  “Again, I remind you that you are on my turf. Here, I get to say and do what I want. If you don’t like it, well…” he gestured for t
he door.

  “Look, you’re obviously an intelligent man,” I said, “I don’t think we need to beat around the bush here. What would it take to get you to leave Valoel’s side and cut off whatever support you’ve already promised him?”

  Another arching of his eyebrow. “You mean to tell me you don’t know? Or are you just being humble?”

  “I’d rather you say it.”

  A pause. “I’d like for you to get on that bed, undress, and let me have you in whatever way I want. Mine for the night, just for the night. I can promise I’ll be a gentleman, I can promise you won’t be hurt, and I can promise you a series of orgasms like you’ve never had in your entire life.” He turned his eyes on Draven, though I could tell he was still talking to me. “One… after… another.”

  Draven shot to his feet and aimed his hand at Slade. Magic crackled around his fingertips, but whatever spell he was about to send into the mage didn’t go off. Instead, Draven watched the other man, his jaw clenching, his fingers flexing.

  Slade’s eyebrow cocked playfully. “I would consider my next move very carefully, if I were you,” he warned. “I have been gracious so far, but if I am attacked in my own place of business, the weapons you deposited when you entered will join the many that are never picked up after.”

  A tense moment passed. I thought I should do something, anything to break this up before it started. But I couldn’t move, because if I did, I worried Draven would misunderstand my movement for some form of aggression and attack. I had to hope he would simmer down on his own.

  He did.

  The magic around Draven’s fingertips died off. “We’re leaving,” he barked.

  “So soon?” Slade asked.

  “We have nothing to offer you. If you think Seline is going to give her body up to you on a flimsy promise, even a solid promise… you disgust me.”

  “I’m pretty sure the lady can speak for herself…”

  “I can,” I said.

  “And?”

  “I’m afraid it’s a no. Tempting, but no. I’m not a whore. If there’s something else we can trade in exchange for your allegiance, then I’m all ears to that. But I’m not about to jump into that bed with you.”