His focus turned inward, as if he was running the numbers in his head. “That will work,” he finally said, to my delight. “Six feet of wire per person should give more than enough protection. You could double it twice and twist it to make a simple wrap around bracelet. Needs to be worn against the skin, preferably under a sleeve to keep it from getting snagged and torn off—”
He fell silent as the basement door creaked open. A few seconds later Elinor and Giovanni descended the stairs.
She gave Szerain a smile. “So this is where you’ve been hiding . . .” Her voice trailed off. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing we can’t handle,” Szerain said with a comforting smile. He flopped into the armchair. “You’ve no need to worry.”
Elinor pursed her lips at him, clearly not buying into the there-there routine, then leveled an expectant look at me.
“Xharbek’s pissed and acting out,” I told her then glared at Szerain when he made a Be Quiet throat clearing. “She of all people deserves to be in the loop.”
Szerain spoke to me in demon. “What in the eleven chasms are you thinking?”
I answered in kind. “She may not be one who needs to know, but she is deserving of knowing that which affects her so deeply. They will both remain here for the confrontation, sheltered, and well clear of Xharbek and his mindreading.”
Elinor’s chin lifted. “Lord Szerain, you cannot protect me by keeping me ignorant of danger.”
Szerain glowered at the double-pronged argument then lifted his hands in surrender. “Elinor, my dear, you had a will of iron before, and now you have this one’s attitude.” He jerked his head at me. I returned an innocent look. “Very well. Have a seat and I’ll fill you in.”
While he did that, I stepped away and texted Pellini the info about the mutagen, the arcane user immunity, and the specs for the wire bracelets for everyone else, including people and animals remaining behind, both here and at Jill’s house—just in case. After a bit of mental math, I added a request for fifty feet of triple-strand makkas cable.
Awesome. Pellini would make sure everything was taken care of. I started to type in a thanks then paused as the thought from earlier reappeared at the edge of my mind. This time I let it creep further out.
Right. It was past time to deal with that anyway.
“Hey, Szerain, how much wire would be needed to protect a horse at ground zero?”
He stopped mid-word and gave me a long look. “Twenty-five feet,” he said after a moment.
“Gotcha,” I said then texted
Damn, Pellini was sharp. “How much wire for a two-hundred pound dog?” I asked Szerain.
Bafflement and curiosity warred on his face, but he simply replied, “Ten feet?”
“Thanks,” I said and relayed the info to Pellini.
I rejoined the others just as Szerain finished his rundown of Xharbek’s antics and our plans thus far.
“That seems a clever trap,” Elinor said, brow furrowed. “But how will you get him to tamely walk into it?”
“We hadn’t quite reached that point in the planning,” I said. “Xharbek isn’t stupid, which rather limits the possible ways to lure him in.”
“Is there perhaps an object he desires?” Giovanni offered.
Szerain leaned back and crossed his feet. “His wish list is a touch more abstract than most.”
Elinor stood a bit straighter. “I know what he desires—me,” she said. “Use me as your lure.” Her voice held the barest whisper of fear—noticeable to me only because I’d been her.
My estimation of her climbed higher. Being fearless was overrated.
“Don’t be absurd,” Szerain said at the same time as Giovanni’s, “Absolutely not!”
She shifted to better narrow her eyes at both men. “Excuse me?”
Giovanni wilted under the fierce gaze, but Szerain inclined his head in apology. “What I meant is that you are of no use to Xharbek now that you have the firewall.”
“Xharbek doesn’t know that, though,” I pointed out. Elinor shot me a grateful look.
Szerain grew thoughtful. “You’re right. And he wouldn’t be able to resist making a try for her.”
“Wait, no,” I said, wincing. “He’d be able to read the truth from her before he got close enough to be trapped.”
Szerain shook his head. “With the firewall, I can shield her well enough.”
“Perfect. How close can he get before he realizes she’s no good to him anymore?”
“Within a few feet,” Szerain said.
Close enough.
Giovanni reached for Elinor’s hand. “My love, please. You cannot put yourself in such danger.”
“Yes, I can, and I will.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Dear Giovanni, don’t you see that I must?”
He searched her face, then his distress softened to acceptance. “I do, though I am loath to admit it. My beloved. I will remain here and await your triumphant return.”
She gave him a smile of heart-melting adoration then leaned in and kissed him. “My little snake,” she murmured ever so softly. He chuckled and kissed her back.
Curiosity swelled about the little snake thing, but I forced my mind to more important matters and hit Szerain with my next thought. “To keep Xharbek from discerning our intention, I propose that only Elinor, you, and I know that she’s a lure, or that we’re hoping to confront him at all. We can’t be read. Everyone else needs to believe that we’re there to close the valve, and the extra forces with us are to keep the demons at bay.”
Szerain considered for a moment then blew out a gusty breath. “That seems to cover the needed bases. And Elinor can wear a makkas bracelet. It will be arcane camouflage to muddle her signature so Xharbek won’t notice her until we get into place.”
“At which time, she’ll remove the makkas and be like a beacon of come-and-get-me.”
Szerain gave a firm nod. “He’ll take the bait, I’ll break the bond, we’ll wrap him in makkas and zap him with rakkuhr. Wham. Bam.”
“I just had a nasty thought,” I said. “What’s to keep Xharbek from scooping everyone into dimensional pockets and leaving them to rot?”
“Aside from demahnk constraints—which Xharbek is good at loopholing—the area around ground zero is too unstable to allow access to any dimensional pockets.” He looked around. “Anything else? No? Good. Go do what you need to do.”
I pulled Elinor aside as we neared the stairs, then waited for Giovanni to reach the top before I leaned close. “What’s the ‘little snake’ about?” I whispered. “Eilahn called him that, and he blushed scarlet.”
She grinned, bright and mischievous. “He is quite skilled with his tongue,” she whispered back, eyes dancing with merriment as I clapped a hand over my mouth to hold back my chortle. “Eilahn once heard me say it to him, and she does so love to tease.” She looped her arm through mine as we climbed the stairs. “Do you not have a term of endearment for your Lord Mzatal?”
“Yep. I call him Boss.” I grinned. “Because we both know who the real boss is.”
• • •
Upstairs, Pellini had conscripted everyone with a working pair of hands into an assembly line for measuring, cutting, twisting, and trimming makkas wire. I told him that we were going to ground zero to get the valve and the flow of mutagen under control, and said nothing about Xharbek. Pellini, as usual, accepted the info I gave him and didn’t press for more, even though it was clear he knew there was more to it.
“We’re bringing DIRT in on this?” he asked.
“Just our squads,” I said. “We’ll muster at the fairgrounds. That’s far enough away from gro
und zero for everyone to stay safe while they get issued makkas and instructed in the whys and hows of wearing it.”
“Which are?”
“Against the skin. Probably should be taped down and worn under sleeves so they don’t accidentally get ripped off.” I paused. “I’m also going to talk to Boudreaux.” Not only could we use his help, but it was time.
Relief flowed over Pellini’s face, as if he was finally letting go of a worry—one he’d been holding onto ever since he decided to approach me about the arcane. Boudreaux and Pellini had been partners at work and best friends the rest of the time, and I’d become the main obstacle between them.
But all he said was, “Good,” and left it at that.
* * *
• • •
I made the call from the privacy of my bedroom.
“Boudreaux here.”
“It’s Kara Gillian.”
He paused barely an instant before replying in an acid voice. “So, what can I do for Your Royal Witchiness?”
“It’s time for me to tell you the truth.” I didn’t have to explain about what.
“The truth?” He let out a harsh laugh. “You mean your version of it.”
“No. The truth. I’ll tell you what really went down at the Farouche Plantation that night. I only want one thing in return.”
“Fuck you, Kara,” he shouted. “We’re not trading favors here. I’m not giving you shit for doing what you should have done a long time ago when I asked you straight to your face!”
And more than once. He’d known I was lying about not being involved in the plantation raid that ended with his mentor Farouche dead and his stepfather Angus McDunn in hiding from the police. Even worse, he’d known I was withholding info about the whereabouts of his mother—whom I suspected had gone to ground with McDunn.
“My favor to you is that I’ll finally answer straight to your face,” I said. “I’m on a pretty tight timeline, so you’d have to meet me at St. Long Elementary in twenty minutes. But if I talk to you in person, you’ll know—without any shred of doubt—that I’m telling you the whole truth and nothing but the truth.” Including why it had to happen, I added silently.
I heard his intake of breath. “Yeah, well, I’m pretty good about knowing when people are full of shit,” he said, blustering with the faintest trace of uncertainty, likely rattled that I knew about his little knack for getting people to tell the truth. “What do you want from me?”
“Round up volunteers from your squad for a mission that’s going down in about forty-five minutes and have them assemble at the old fairgrounds,” I said. “If you determine I’m lying, you’re done, and they can go home. But if you determine I’m telling the truth—whether you like that truth or not—you and your team join the mission.”
“What kind of mission?” I could practically see his eyes narrow.
“Incursion at Ground Zero.”
“I didn’t get notification of a new rift.”
“It’s not a rift. Look, are you in or out?”
“Yeah. Sure, what the fuck.”
“Good. See you in twenty.”
• • •
He was at the abandoned school, smoking under the portico, when I arrived. As I walked up, backpack in hand, he tossed the half-smoked cigarette down and crushed it out with the toe of his boot.
“Let’s get this bullshit over with,” he said with an ugly curl of his lip. “Some of us have real work to do.”
I dropped the pack beside a nearby bench then sat, deliberately letting him have the advantage of height. Boudreaux’s career as a cop had been far from stellar, but the one thing no one could knock him for was his ability to get information and confessions out of suspects. It wasn’t coercion either. There’d been a number of times when he’d interviewed a suspect and then come out and said the guy didn’t do it. Didn’t always go over well with the brass, especially when they were looking to make a fast arrest and close the case, but Boudreaux was always right.
I’d felt the force of his little knack for myself a few months ago, when I was arrested for the murder of J.M. Farouche. I’d resisted Boudreaux’s influence at the time, but it had been hard as hell to hold back the unfiltered truth.
It was going to be even harder for him to finally hear it. Boudreaux had been a skinny kid with an amazing way with horses and big dreams of being a jockey, and James Macklin Farouche had been his mentor and benefactor. After Boudreaux nearly died in a racing accident, Farouche had moved heaven and earth to make sure he recovered as fully as possible, and even built him a house right by the stables. He’d been Boudreaux’s idol, and for good reason.
And now I opened up to Boudreaux’s influence, embraced the urge to unburden myself and told Boudreaux that, just as he had a special knack for gleaning the truth, this man he worshipped had also possessed a knack—one that allowed him to instill paralyzing fear in others. I went on to describe how Farouche had wielded his talent to influence, coerce, and terrorize other knack-gifted people to do his bidding, including kidnap, torture, and murder. And then I explained how Angus McDunn, who’d served as Farouche’s right-hand man, used his own talent to enhance those knacks. Or, in my case, diminish.
As I spoke, Boudreaux’s cocky sneer flickered and faded. I paused at intervals to give him a chance to stop me, but though his eyes filled with increasing anguish, he kept signaling me to continue.
I told him about the women Farouche had ordered kidnapped, and how I took the place of a targeted victim to infiltrate the plantation and rescue Idris Palatino.
I told him about the Mraztur using the valve node at the plantation to come to Earth, and of the resulting battle.
I told him how Kadir dragged Farouche from the mansion, looked deep into his mind, and declared his life forfeit.
I told him how Bryce, ex-hitman for Farouche, intervened and claimed the right of vengeance, and how Farouche tried to influence Bryce in that moment and bring him back under his control.
I told him how I watched and did nothing while Bryce shot Farouche in the head.
And, finally, I admitted that, when Boudreaux had been frantic with worry about his missing mother, I’d purposefully withheld my suspicion that she’d fled with her husband, McDunn. At this, triumph flashed through the pain in Boudreaux’s eyes. Though it lasted only the merest fraction of an instant, it was enough to tell me that he knew something of the current whereabouts of McDunn and his mother.
I fell silent. The urge to speak was gone because there was nothing left to say. Boudreaux stood like a statue, looking at a spot on the wall behind me. The anguished expression was gone. Now he simply looked bleak.
“Boudreaux, I—”
“You’ll have your volunteers,” he said in a voice scraped raw.
I had to hand it to him—he didn’t like the truth one bit, but he wasn’t one to welch on a deal. “We’re rolling out to ground zero in less than fifteen, but I know it’ll take longer to get horses ready, especially with this.” I shoved the backpack forward with my foot. “There’s a . . . magic radiation at ground zero that’ll mutate just about everything, but the stuff in here blocks its effects. You and your people need to wear the bracelets against the skin. I suggest duct taping them down. There’s some for the horses and the dog, too. It all needs to be securely in place before y’all head to ground zero.”
He fished one of the crude wire bracelets from the bag and eyed it doubtfully. “I thought you said we were dealing with an incursion?”
“I lied. We’re going there to save the world.”
His gaze snapped up to mine. “Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“I am.” I pushed to my feet. “Get your people ready as soon as you can so you don’t miss the fun.”
Chapter 44
An eerie quiet enveloped downtown Beaulac, as it had since a week after t
he valve explosion, when demon incursions put an end to search and rescue operations. Though at least by that time there’d been no more hope of finding anyone alive.
Cleanup efforts had, of course, never begun. Rubble remained where it had fallen. Broken glass glittered in the sun, and cars remained where they’d been abandoned.
As our vehicles neared the quarter mile perimeter of the valve, I ordered a halt. The color and texture ahead was wrong. I scanned with my binoculars, suddenly very glad I’d stopped the convoy.
It was like gazing into an alien landscape. The twisted and broken concrete looked as if it was covered with an undulating snot-green mold, and crimson vines snaked over everything like capillaries. And everywhere, movement. Rats? Inky black shiny rats?
We’d stopped near what was left of the First Bank of Beaulac, a good fifty yards from the edge of the weirdness. Elinor and Turek remained in the vehicles while everyone else piled out. Alpha and Bravo squads hustled into formation on the cracked sidewalk.
“Don’t engage unless you have to,” I told them. “But if you do, hit ’em fast and hard. Your primary job is to keep the demons away from us. Except for this one.” I signaled Turek to come out of the APC. He’d very reluctantly donned a bright red XXL “SuperSwole Gym” t-shirt—with the sides slit to accommodate his massive chest and multiple arms, and the neck widened for his big head. He’d acquiesced only after I explained that precious few humans would be able to tell him apart from any other savik. Hell, there were still plenty who couldn’t tell a kehza from a reyza. “He’s an ally,” I continued, “and the only demon you’ll see out there wearing a red shirt. Do not shoot him.” I paused to let the message sink in before continuing. “Bravo squad will approach the valve from the east with Idris and Pellini as arcane support. Alpha will move straight in from here along with my team. Once we reach ground zero, Idris and Pellini will close down the valve and stop the mutagen flow. My team and I will be working close by. I don’t know what’s going to happen when we start adjusting the valve, so be prepared for anything.” That was the closest I could come to warning them that we were walking into a trap set by an increasingly unscrupulous demahnk.
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