by M. R. Forbes
Anyway, I kept the yodeling as little more than a whisper, and tried to minimize the movements as much as I could, but I had to go through the process. It was to loosen up my body, and my mind. It was to calm my nerves and get 'in the zone' as best I could. My first move was to hop a ten foot stone wall, without being caught by the security cameras. If that had been the only move, it would have been nerve-wracking enough.
I still needed to get into the house and past the guards.
The armed guards.
I had my gun in a shoulder holster, hidden by the trench. I took it out and hit a small switch on the bottom of the grip, and then held it up to my ear. A soft hum came from the barrel. I checked my watch. Ten thirty and thirty six seconds. I opened my timer app and watched the time vanish in front of me. At exactly ten thirty-one, I hit the 'start' button, turned off the backlight, and eased my way to the corner of the tree.
I watched the cameras swivel. At the moment of intersection, I aimed the gun and pulled the trigger.
There were no bullets. There was no sound. The gun wasn't a gun at all. It fired a micro sized electromagnetic pulse. The two cameras had just been burnt out and gone offline. I expected the disruption would be noticed right away, it was part of my plan, and I would be over and gone by then.
I sprinted from the tree to the wall, gaining speed until I planted my foot and pushed up, reaching forward with one hand for balance, and up with the other for height. I gained a few feet, planted my other foot, and gained a couple more. It was enough to get my hand on the lip of the wall, and I pulled myself up without difficulty. Even then, I didn't slow. I took two steps and jumped forward off the wall, dropping down in a break-fall roll and getting back on my feet, coming up running.
10:31:26. A quick glance in both directions showed me I had made it past step one. I came to a stop against the side of the house. Twelve seconds to get across the yard. I had made it in ten.
Two guards turned the corner at either end of the house, making their way across the grass. I dropped to my stomach behind the bushes and pulled myself along the ground towards the rear. I had two and a half minutes to get to the back of the house. It wasn't a long time, but it felt like forever.
One guard helped another onto the top of the wall. I risked a look back to see him bent over, checking the cameras. My heart was racing, my breath coming heavy. I clenched my teeth to keep from coughing, and kept putting hand over hand. I spent way too much time slithering like a snake.
10:34:58. I reached the rear of the house. The back opened up to a stone patio abutting an olympic-sized pool. Outdoor furniture lined the patio in front of a massive barbecue grill. The guard was standing right in front of the sliding glass doors, his hand to his ear, listening to the report from the others on the wall.
Getting over that wall had been the hardest part. This was the second hardest. There was no cover here. Once I turned the corner, I was going to be an easy target.
I reached into my pocket and took hold of the dice. I rolled them between my fingers. Every job had a bit of chance with it. Every job required some bit of luck. I pulled the dice up to my mouth and breathed onto them. "Guard at the door," I whispered, exhaling some of my power, and some of my decay.
They grew warm in my grip, a dark energy leaking out of my fist. I ducked down, and tossed them at the patio.
The echoes of the dice rolling across the stone caught the guard's attention. He didn't know what they were. Almost nobody knew what they were. He watched them skip and turn, in a strange rotation that didn't follow any known laws of physics. He impressed me then, taking his eyes off them and looking for the person who had sent them on their journey. He saw me a second later, and his rifle went to his hip.
The dice had already stopped moving. The magic hit him, and the rifle dropped from his hand. Blood began to pour from his eyes, his nose, his ears, his mouth... anywhere there was an exit point. I didn't need to see the symbols, I knew what they were by the reaction. Blood and Snake. My luck was still good. He toppled over without a sound.
10:35:47. They would find him when they came back around. I needed to get into the library and grab the stone, and make my way out the front before that happened. I ran over, picked up my dice, and checked the slider. It was unlocked, and I slipped inside.
I was in a quaint living area that was too modern for the more classic style of the mansion itself. There was a hallway at the rear, that was split by a second. I ducked behind the couch as a guard walked across my view, glancing over to the back. My dead guard should have been walked left to right, while one of the pair at the cameras crossed around the rear. I had broken that pattern, but the rest of it had continued, or so the guy in the hallway thought.
10:36:14. I got up off the floor and walked down the corridor as silently as I could. I ducked into a bathroom when the guard passed by again, and then turned right behind his back. A quick dash forward brought me to another door. I pushed it open and ducked into a bedroom that had been converted to a studio. An easel sat in the center, holding a half-painted portrait of a nude male model. A draped table was in front of the easel, waiting for its muscular and apparently well-endowed partner to return.
10:37.04. I heard the footsteps of the guard move past once, and then back again. Just as he crossed my hiding spot, I twisted the door open and put my arm around his neck, cutting off his air and pulling him backwards into the studio. He struggled against the grip, but I had done this often enough to resist despite his greater physical strength. I kept tugging him backwards, getting his whole body in. By the time I laid him on the floor, he was out cold.
10:37:49. I sprinted down the hallway and turned right, going down another short hall and coming up against the door to the library. I turned the handle. Locked. Damn.
I hadn't expected that. I pulled out my hairpin and stuck it in the lock, counting off the seconds in my head. My performance at the gas station had been shit. I needed to do a lot better. I closed my eyes and manipulated the pin. Five... four... I got it unlocked. Three... two... I pushed it open just enough. One... I gently eased it closed. I didn't make it all the way, but it wouldn't be obvious from a distance.
"Impressive."
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lady in red.
"Turn around, let me see your face."
I couldn't see who was talking. She was female, that much was obvious. Older, and used to giving commands. I lifted myself to a stand and slowly rotated. The pedestal sat in the center of the room. The woman was standing next to it.
"I was wondering where this had come from." She was holding Mickey, dangling him by the tail. "It was my understanding that the Houses had an agreement regarding necromancers."
I had been right about older. Mid-fifties, maybe. Asian. She was slender, with shoulder length black hair lined with silver. She was wearing a shiny red suit with a white blouse underneath. A huge ruby hung from a gold chain around her neck.
I ran a pale gray hand along my hairless scalp. "What gave it away?"
"You came to take this?" She ran her hand along the top of the stone.
"Guilty. You aren't supposed to be in here."
She tossed my rat to me. I caught it instinctively. "Neither are you, but you're correct. I'm supposed to be in China right now."
She wasn't afraid of me, that much was obvious. Her clothes, her age, the massive ruby... They all gave me a solid idea of who I was dealing with.
Mrs. Red.
I had been scared the second she asked me to turn around. I was beyond terrified now. I was caught, like Mickey had been. She didn't need to call the guards to dispose of me, unless she didn't want to dirty her own hands. Either way, I was going to die.
I fought against my nerves, working hard to find my breath. I wasn't sure what else to do, so I tried to stall. "So why are you here?"
She rubbed the stone absently. I had heard Mrs. Red was a spitfire, but the woman in front of me looke
d more like a mourning grandmother, a victim. A tear ran from her eye.
"They told me Katherine was sick. They said she had the Rot. When I landed, they said they couldn't wait, that the Rot had taken over."
For years we'd been fascinated with the concept of zombies. Then the reversal happened, and with it came the Rot. It was the disease that started the whole walking dead mythos, and it was just like the movies. A fever, chills, death. Then your body started moving again, in time to a new drummer, motivated only by a desire to eat living tissue.
Unlike the movies, it wasn't that easy to get. Saliva to an open wound from someone or something with the virus would do it, but it was easy to avoid getting bit by a zombie. They didn't move very fast. There had been no hordes of walking dead, or world-breaking apocalypses; just a random stray victim from time to time, who could maybe take one or two others with them before they found themselves with a bullet, arrow, knife, or other blunt instrument lodged in their brains.
Whoever Katherine was, I couldn't imagine how she had gotten it here. I knew some animals could carry it like rabies, even if they never got symptoms. Maybe she had been bitten by an infected squirrel?
I felt the cold deadness of Mickey's fur in my hand. Or maybe she'd been bitten by a rat? Was that why she was telling me? Did she think I was responsible, and she wanted me to know about it before I got the toast treatment?
"It wasn't me." I held Mickey out towards her. "I only came for that, and I don't kill children." Did I really think I had a chance of getting out of here alive?
The tears hit her cheek and ran off her chin, leaving wet splatters on her suit jacket. "It wasn't a rat bite."
"Who was she?"
"My responsibility. The daughter of a deceased friend. She was only nine."
The ringing of alarm bells in my mind was sudden, and loud.
"What is it?" She must have seen my expression.
"Little girl, about this high?" My heart had already been pounding, my adrenaline already pumping. An overwhelming feeling of dread joined the mix. I thought getting caught was bad.
"Yes. How did you-"
I dove away from the door just in time, as the loud popping of gunfire echoed through the hallway, and bullets ripped through the wood. The lady in red wasn't so lucky. The shots slammed her hard, knocking her backwards into a bookshelf. Whoever they were, they were crack shots, or they could see through the door or something, because they managed to leave the stone and the pedestal totally unharmed.
I crouched in the corner, finding the knife and holding it at my side. The gunfire stopped. I could hear two pairs of feet coming down the hall.
"Come on, Mickey. Back at it," I said, reaching out for the rat. It came alive as it had before, sniffing and turning. When the gunman kicked the door open and saw the motion, he turned his rifle on it and let loose. I used the distraction to get the knife to his neck and cut his throat, fighting against the nausea that rose up as a result. This way of killing was too personal for my taste.
If he had been alone, I would have been fine. The guy behind him opened up, and it was all I could do to get out of the line of fire and keep the other guard in front of me, catching some of the rounds and deflecting others. A bullet whizzed past my ear, the hot slug scorching it on the way by. I shoved my victim, trying to push him into the other guard, but he backed up and then jumped over.
I recognized both of them. They were supposed to be defending the place, and instead they were making their own move on the stone. What the fuck was this thing that they were staging a bloody coup to get it?
He smiled when he saw me, the muzzle of the gun swinging my direction. I was in the open, and all I had was a knife.
A sudden flash of energy bolted across the room, catching the guard full-on. He shook and rattled as the power coursed through him, and then fell to the floor. I whipped my head around, to where Red was laying propped against the bookshelf, bleeding out but still alive.
I stared at her for what felt like forever, but it was only a couple of seconds.
"They're going to blame you for this." Her voice was faint. A soft chuckle followed. "I should have known. I should have seen this coming."
I stood up and looked towards the door. I needed to get the hell out of here. "I was just supposed to steal the stone."
Her laughter was louder, mixed with a choking gurgle. "Then steal it, necromancer. It's the only way you might live long enough to continue dying."
I walked over to her and crouched down. Her eyes were turning glassy, but she didn't look afraid. "Dannie was right. I was supposed to die here, wasn't I?"
"Live, die, it doesn't matter. You aren't important . You're just the ghost. I was supposed to die here. It was supposed to be taken, but not by you." She looked over at the smoldering guard. "Eight years, and they got to him. You need to take the stone. Don't let them get it. Bring it to Jin." She reached up and took hold of the ruby. "Take this with you. She will know I sent you. If she survives, you survive. There is no other way."
I stared down at her. I never should have picked up that goddamned card in the first place. I needed to get away from there. I needed to get back to Danelle and get her out of Chicago before Black's kill team...
"I was paid by Black. The card came from Black."
She coughed up some blood. "It wasn't Black."
"How do you know?"
"It wasn't Black," she repeated.
There was no motion down the hallway... yet. "Why should I help you?"
"Help yourself. You'll die if you don't do as I say."
I crouched in front of her, trying to decide what to do. If I left without the stone, I could get away for now, but someone would be coming after Danelle and me. Whether it was Black or not, any House could fund a kill team. They would figure out who had done the job, and they would find us, and we would be dead.
I could take the stone, and call it in like I was supposed to. If I had been set up, I would just be painting a big fat target on my ass. The fact that they had convinced Red to be here when I walked in... Danelle had been right. Those two ogres were supposed to be dead right now.
Red was right, too. Her rope was the only one not already tied into a noose.
I had been stupid for taking the job, and for dragging Dannie into this. I had been stubborn and greedy, with a side of desperate.
Why couldn't things be simple?
"Where can I find Jin?" I leaned over her and reached for the necklace.
"New... New York." She was struggling to speak. All the color had gone out of her. She reached up and put her hand on my wrist. "The House... you don't know... secrets... protect the treasure."
"Treasure?"
Her eyes shifted past me, towards the pedestal. She took one more deep, gasping breath, and abandoned this world for whatever came after.
My head was spinning while I took the ruby necklace from her corpse. I would have loved more answers, but my magic didn't work on users. Instead, I got up and walked over to the guy that Red had toasted.
"Wake up, asshole."
Without his name, it took a lot more effort to bring him back. Without his name, it would make him harder to control. Under any other circumstances, I wouldn't have even tried it. Thankfully, the fields were strong here, and it helped spare me from some of the burden.
The corpse moaned, and sat straight up. His clothes were whole, but his body had been scorched beneath them, leaving the flesh burned and blistered.
"What the hell?" His eyes zipped around the room, frantic.
"Not yet." I didn't like to bring fresh kills back. They tended to spend too much time being shocked and confused that they weren't in Kansas anymore. Death was a bit of an adjustment. "Get up,"
His eyes found me as he rose to his feet. He looked down at his barbecued complexion.
"You fucking killed me?"
"You would have killed me first, but no. Red took care of you." I turned back and put my hand to the stone, shocked by the warmth of the
light shining down onto it. It was soft and smooth, and didn't weigh anything close to what I had been expecting. I held it in the crook of my arm like a football. "Who paid you to turn on Mrs. Red?"
"Turn on?" He shook his head. His expression was still one of shock. In this case, it was at least making it harder for him to resist my control. "No, we wiped the original set last night. Stuffed 'em all in a big laundry bin downstairs, and then this woman did us up in makeup so we'd look just like them. Paid? I don't know. I just do the dirty work."
"Who organized the team?"
"Some fixer or other. He wore these fancy italian shoes."
Shit.
"How many of you are in the house?"
He looked down at the other guy's body. "Six, and Carla."
"User?"
He nodded.
"What kind?"
"Water."
She must have been the maid downstairs. "Close?"
He shrugged. "They should have been blasting your sorry ass by now. I thought necros were against the rules?"
What? I bent down and grabbed the other assault rifle from its former owner, and then I moved past him to the hallway. I didn't hear anything. At all. "Lead the way, smokey."
He didn't have a choice. He raised the assault rifle and walked up the hall ahead of me.
"It's clear," he said when he reached the crosswalk.
I joined him there, looking out from behind. The gunfire was still ringing in my ears. There was no way every living thing on the property hadn't heard it.
"Do you know what this thing is?" I asked him, shifting the stone in my arm.
"No. Don't care either."
"Even though you died trying to get your hands on it?"
"Especially because of that."
We walked down the hallway. There was nobody there. We turned right and headed past bedrooms and bathrooms, a game room with a pool table and a large formal dining room. We spilled out into the foyer through a pair of mahogany doors.