Stone 02 Kato

by DB Reynolds

  Grace didn’t say anything.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. All right. You stay on Kato’s tail and guide me in, but, Grace, you have to listen to me on this. Do not, under any circumstances, try to take these people on by yourself. You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

  “Do you?”

  “I have a damn good idea of it, yeah.”

  “Do you think it’s Sotiris?” she asked, not really wanting to hear the answer. All during the drive to Joshua Tree, she’d been trying to convince herself that Kato’s kidnappers were some cultish, fringe group who’d discovered his significance to the Dark Witch and decided to use him to enhance their own magical power. She hadn’t worked out how they could possibly know about him, but—

  “I know that it’s Sotiris, babe.”

  Nick’s quiet assurance blew her theory to shreds. “Well, shit,” she hissed softly. “Gabler’s there, too, Nick. Or whatever demon possessed him, anyway. I heard his voice when they were taking Kato.”

  Nick was quiet for a few minutes. “All right. I have to think about this. But, please listen to me, Grace. Right now, they don’t know you’re onto them. Keep it that way.”

  “No promises,” she said. “I won’t let them hurt him.”

  “I understand,” he said quietly. “I love him, too. See you soon.”

  Grace disconnected, switched to four-wheel drive, made sure all her lights were off, and then started down the primitive road. She drove slowly, hoping to minimize the engine noise, hoping they were too busy with their magic to pay attention.

  She didn’t know how far she had to go. She only knew that Kato was at the end of it.

  KATO’S AWARENESS HAD begun as a trickle, but it ended with a rush. One moment, he was absorbing his surroundings in bits and pieces, and the next he was being bombarded with information.

  “You’re awake. Good.”

  That explained the abrupt awareness. Sotiris’s presence alone would have jolted him awake, but the damn sorcerer had put a punch into the statement to make sure. He wanted Kato to know he was there.

  Kato pushed himself off his back and onto his side to relieve the pressure on his hands which were bound behind him. He tried to sit up next, but he was too weak . . . or too ensorcelled. He knew his body, knew what it was capable of. More than once, he’d fought with blood pouring from his wounds, with broken bones like ivory shards piercing his skin. And yet, in this moment, when he faced his greatest enemy, he couldn’t even sit up? More out of curiosity than any expectation of success, he reached for his magic, the black energy that sat below his heart like a cancer. It wasn’t there. Of course not. Sotiris would never have dared to challenge him at full strength. He was using magic not to steal Kato’s power—that wasn’t possible—but to contain it somehow, to keep it out of Kato’s reach.

  He decided to go along for now, to listen and learn while he waited for his mother’s magic to reclaim his body and his strength. Sotiris’s spell was working for now, but the Dark Witch was a selfish bitch. Kato’s magic belonged to her alone. Nico had figured out a work around when he’d nullified the vicious spell she’d concocted to punish Kato for leaving her. But Sotiris wasn’t working around anything. His spell was for control, nothing else. Whatever they had planned for Kato, they didn’t want him messing it up by fighting back.

  “We meet again, young Kato,” Sotiris said in his oily voice.

  Kato didn’t respond. He had nothing to say.

  “You’re probably wondering what I have in store for you.”

  He was wondering, despite his best efforts not to. Whatever Sotiris had in mind, it wouldn’t be good. But if there were gods in any of the many universes, it wouldn’t be a return to the horror of his stone prison.

  “Not yet, Donnie,” Sotiris called out to someone who was little more than a black silhouette on the other side of the sizeable bonfire they’d lit in this flat expanse of desert. “He has to be fully conscious for it to work.”

  “But won’t he—?” Donnie’s words chopped off as he suddenly found himself gasping loudly for breath. Sotiris didn’t like people who argued with him, Kato recalled. Especially not people he considered well beneath him. Which was most of the population.

  “Suitable help is so difficult to find,” Sotiris muttered, as if expecting Kato to empathize with his plight. “People in this world simply don’t know their place.” He gave Kato’s shoulder a comradely slap. “Not like the good old days, heh? Still, this lot have been useful. Idiots, but useful idiots.” He snickered, then leaned in as if to confide in Kato. “They thought to resurrect the Dark Witch. Can you believe it? Mind you, not to seize her power for themselves. Oh, no. Their grand plan was to abase themselves before her, to learn at her feet.” He gave a dismissive snort. “The only thing they’ll learn at the feet of the Dark Witch is how to eat dirt, am I right? That bitch is better off dead, her bones burned and blowing in the desert winds.”

  He paused for a moment, admiring his own wit, his words taking on a sly tone when he continued. “Her magic, on the other hand, that would be a powerful tool in the hands of a true sorcerer like myself.” He laughed, gazing off into the distance, as if contemplating a future filled with unimaginable power. “I could rule the world,” he whispered to himself, and then he turned on Kato and his voice hardened. “And all I needed was you.

  “You were the one thing your bitch of a mother got right, young Kato. I was searching for you long before you met Nicodemus. Did you know that? Far and wide, we hunted. To the four corners of the earth. But that damn, interfering bastard found you first. You were so young, so tortured. And so fucking powerful.” He clicked his tongue. “All he had to do was love you,” he said distastefully. “And you were his. What a fucking waste.”

  He slapped Kato’s shoulder again, hard enough to rock him sideways. “Ah, well, your power will be mine soon enough. That’s all that matters.”

  He was silent for a moment, peering through the darkness and frowning at what he saw. Kato caught the sound of angry shouts and had the momentary thought that Nick and the others had found him, but Sotiris’s next words disabused him of that hope.

  “Morons,” he muttered. “Why in the name of all the gods did you have to end up in a world with such suffocatingly thin magic? Your death at their hands would have served nothing. Your power would have been completely wasted.”

  Kato heard more shouts from the other side of the fire, arguing over how best to kill him. They should be more worried about their own deaths. The minute they’d invited a snake like Sotiris into their midst, they’d become dead men walking. Sotiris would take what he wanted and kill them all, stealing even the small magical boost of their pitiful deaths.

  “Grace,” Kato muttered. She was the only person he worried about. He didn’t know what they’d done with her. She might be somewhere nearby, bound and afraid, waiting for whatever fate Sotiris had planned for her. Or, if she’d somehow managed to escape capture, she could be lying injured back at the Malibu house with no one the wiser. The others—Nico and Damian, and even Casey—would be fine. They knew magic and could defend themselves. But his Grace was still an innocent in his world.

  Sotiris’s furious reaction to the single syllable of Grace’s name surprised Kato. It told him she was still alive, still free. His chest swelled as he breathed out a relieved sigh, even as Sotiris’s sudden burst of anger seared Kato’s bare skin like an open flame, hotter than the untamed fire burning just a few feet away.

  “Ah, yes. Grace,” Sotiris growled. “Fucking little bitch destroyed months of well-laid plans in a single night.” He went silent for a moment, and Kato thought that was all he was going to say, but then he continued in a tone of studied boredom, as if he regretted admitting Grace had caused even a ripple of disruption to his scheme. “I’d planned to free you myself, you know,” he said casually. “I have to admit, it was sheer luck that I found you when I did. That pompous ass Gabler walked me right to you.

  “He had n
o idea what you really were.” He barked a disdainful laugh. “He didn’t know what I was either. Another moron. The man is as magically null as anyone I’ve ever met. Though Zelroth—that’s my demon friend who’s currently occupying Gabler’s meat suit—is finding him a most worthwhile host. He has excellent contacts among this city’s wealthy patrons. Remarkable for such a tedious man. Anyway—” he continued as if this was a pleasant chat among friends, catching up after a long time apart, “—I knew you were there before I ever laid eyes on you. Your mother’s magic, so dark and beautiful . . . it scented the very air in that shabby basement. How anyone could miss it . . .

  “Well, I began making plans. Plans that did not include your little girlfriend sticking her nose in where it didn’t belong. I was the one who made sure she got that research fellowship. I even arranged Zelroth’s visit with Gabler to ensure the fucking scrolls would be assigned to her, where her puny bit of magic could activate the spells. I didn’t need the spells for themselves. What did I care if a demon or two ran loose in this boring world? I simply wanted to know if the Dark Witch’s magic was still potent after all these years of lying dormant. I made Grace Van Allen’s fucking career. And how does she pay me back? She breaks your curse before I could get there. Who’d have thought, right? I crafted that damn thing so carefully.” He made a disgusted noise. “Well, it was a different time back then. But, no matter. You’re mine now, and I do believe these bungling fools are finally ready to begin.”

  He grabbed Kato’s hair and yanked him nearly upright, intending to cause pain. “This is going to hurt like hell, you bastard. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  GRACE HAD NO trouble locating the people who’d taken Kato. They’d lit a fire so big that it was a beacon in the dark night. So much for secrecy. They were obviously confident that no one had followed, and no one would come to check on them this far away from the campgrounds, despite their illegal fire.

  She drove along the rough road, running completely dark, headlights off and even the lights on her dashboard dimmed down to nothing. The engine was loud, unfortunately. The same qualities that made the big SUV an ideal chase vehicle also made it less than ideal for a covert approach. Deciding she’d gotten as close as she dared, she pulled to one side, powered down her window, and then turned off the engine. The stygian darkness of the desert seemed to go on forever, the stars a blanket of light in the sky. It was wrong that such a perfect peace should be interrupted by foul magic.

  Her gaze shifted to the fire dancing in the distance. She could hear voices now, some sort of chant.

  She frowned. Chanting was never good in these situations. Checking to be sure the interior lights on the SUV were off, she opened the door and slipped out into the desert. She quickly checked her Glock, even though she knew the gun was loaded and ready to go. In her mind, she could hear her bodyguard’s voice, “Never assume; always check your weapon in a hostile situation.”

  And this certainly qualified as hostile. She was more terrified than she could ever remember. Not even that secret meeting in the Afghan desert had made her this scared. Not for herself, but for Kato. She desperately hoped she had the skills to save him. Her heart was pounding, her throat closing up, and she felt as if her entire body was trembling. And yet . . . her hands on the Glock were steady, and her mind was clear and focused. There was no way in hell she was going to hide in the dark while Kato died.

  She grabbed Kato’s blade from behind her seat, closed the car door, and started forward, moving slowly, checking every step before committing her full weight to it. There were all sorts of potential hazards on the desert floor that could turn a foot or twist an ankle, but she didn’t dare use a flashlight of any kind. She stuck to the road at first. It was easier, with surer footing, but before long, she was forced to veer off into the scrub for better concealment.

  The brush scratched her bare hands and caught on the blade. And once or twice she had to bite back a scream as something landed on her cheek. She’d never liked camping or the great outdoors. She could appreciate the beauty of nature just fine from the patio of a climate-controlled hotel. But tonight she persisted, not stopping until she was close enough to see into the kidnappers’ encampment. What she found made all of her earlier fears seem trivial. Kato was stretched out on some kind of altar, lying on his side, his hands bound behind him. His shirt had been cut away, and the bloody symbol carved into his bare chest made his captors’ intent all too clear.

  Her heart was telling her to storm in there, gun blazing, to free her lover. But while she might not be a badass, she wasn’t stupid either. She paused, listening carefully for distant engine noise, or any other indication that Nick and the others had arrived. There was nothing. And Kato couldn’t wait.

  She crept closer and counted the enemy. There weren’t as many as she’d feared. She could see six in total, with five of them in a tight cluster a few feet away from Kato’s prostrate form. They were the ones doing the chanting, all dressed in black, with sigils painted on their faces in what she feared was more blood—hopefully not Kato’s. Even worse, she recognized the individual symbols from the scrolls, the ones written by the Dark Witch. That’s why they’d wanted Kato, why no one else would do. But what did they hope to accomplish?

  She jolted in recognition when a seventh man emerged from the shadows. Gabler. Or what was left of him. Even from a distance, she could see the changes the possession had wrought. His normally ruddy coloring had paled to a sickly gray, and his clothing hung on a body which appeared to have lost half its weight just since last night. He wore the rictus grin of a dead man as he approached the sixth person in their gruesome tableau, the one who was standing closest to Kato. His back had been to Grace, but as demon Gabler approached, he turned and she bit her lip to stop a gasp of surprise from giving away her position. Sotiris. She shouldn’t have been surprised, and yet she was. She had no reason to disbelieve what Kato and Nick had said about him, but she’d had trouble reconciling her memories of the inoffensive and frankly rather dull patron of the arts with their depiction of an evil mastermind. And yet, there he was, a gray T-shirt and jeans replacing his expensive wool suit, as he stood over Kato, gazing down at him almost fondly while he spoke words she couldn’t hear. He glanced up at his minions, and then grabbed Kato by the hair and yanked him upright in a way guaranteed to cause pain.

  She nodded to herself. Okay, so at least her primary target was clear. Sotiris.

  Her thoughts skittered to a halt as the five chanters suddenly moved, coming closer and forming a half circle around Kato, with Sotiris on the opposite side of the altar. Demon Gabler seemed to be little more than a spectator, standing off to one side, that ghastly grin painted on his face, as if he was having the time of his life.

  The chanters picked up their pace, the already unintelligible words now becoming a jumble of sound, one word running into the next, until she could no longer distinguish word from word. Sotiris didn’t join them, didn’t say anything at all, but for all his silence, he was the most ominous of them all. His head was thrown back, his arms half-raised, palms open. . . . And Grace’s heart almost stopped in her chest. He held a knife in one hand, eight inches of serrated blade that was already dripping with crimson liquid—Kato’s blood, she assumed, from when Sotiris had carved the sigil into his chest. The bastard.

  Grace stood slowly, her silhouette concealed by the leafless branches of the tall scrub. She was resolved. There were no nerves, no qualms about what she had to do. Her only question was timing. It would do Kato no good if she stopped Sotiris only to have one of the others pick up the knife and finish the job. She wished again that Nick and the others had gotten there sooner. But she couldn’t wait. Kato couldn’t wait.

  Sotiris raised the blade. Demon Gabler grinned. The chanters reached a fever pitch.

  And Grace fired.

  “WHAT THE FUCK?” Nick’s head was halfway out the open window of his Ferrari, straining to hear someth
ing above the rumble of the engine. Swearing viciously, he drove through the unattended gate and pulled the Ferrari as far off the road as he dared. There was no way in hell he could get the car over the rough road Kato’s kidnappers had taken, even if he’d wanted to. Which he didn’t, because it wasn’t necessary. He could run faster than he could drive at this point.

  With the engine’s rumble turned off, he unfolded himself from the car and stood in the darkness, listening.

  “Dark magic,” he whispered to himself. But it wasn’t Kato. Someone else was playing with forces they didn’t understand. He glanced around, then moved, leaping onto a tall jumble of stones with an athletic grace that owed more to his regular workouts than to any magical power he possessed.

  He scanned the surrounding desert with its skeletal Joshua trees and low-lying scrub, then inhaled deeply, the dry air burning his lungs. He wasn’t a fan of deserts, much preferring the humid swampiness of his Florida home. But he wasn’t here for the scenery.

  Except for that. . . .

  He stared at the pillar of brilliant flame burning in the near distance and immediately dampened his own power signature until it blended seamlessly with the magic that Sotiris was all but blasting into the ether up ahead. If his lack of secrecy was any indicator, he must be confident that he’d eluded any pursuit and now had all the time in the world to finish whatever ritual he had planned for Kato.

  He punched up Damian and Casey on his cell phone.

  “Fuck me,” Damian answered. “I have to get one of those Ferrari things.”

  That got a tiny smile from Nick, who’d blown by Casey’s truck two hours ago, hitting speeds in excess of 200 miles per hour. But the smile didn’t last.

  “I’ve found them,” Nick said. “And I’m going in.” He waited for an argument from Damian, some insistence that he wait, but it never came. Of course not. Damian understood war better than any of them. He knew the sacrifices that had to be made, the risks that had to be taken. There was only one acceptable outcome and that was victory, at any cost. “Join me when you can,” he added. “I’ll try to save a bad guy for you to kill.”