Song of Wishrock Harbor (The Invisible Entente Book 2)

by Krista Walsh

  “Gabe, are you all right?” Percy shouted in his ear.

  Gabe’s mouth felt dry and his throat was sore. Although he hadn’t been able to cry out in the illusion, he guessed he’d been shouting for a while.

  “I’m here,” he said.

  John’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened as he realized his spell hadn’t worked. He glanced at Ligeia, but she remained on the floor, her head buried under her arms as she continued to sway. Large tears streamed down her cheeks, and her expression of despair sent another wave of fire through Gabe’s veins.

  “If you’re ready for it, I’ve got the dirt on this asshat,” Percy said. “Since he came to town in the early seventeen hundreds, he’s lost over a thousand employees to strange tragedies that no one but a willfully blind human would call an accident. One man fell off a roof, according to the coroner, but the state of the body suggests he was thrown from the height of a few thousand feet — and this was long before airplanes. The victim was a known rival of Deverill’s. He’s also lost three wives over the years, all determined to be suicides, and they all died the same way. Looks like hanging, only no ligature marks around the neck. More like the air was sucked out of their bodies. The list goes on, just tell me what you need.”

  “The dogs,” Gabe said, no longer caring if John figured out there was another person in the room. The jinni had crawled into his head and dragged his worst moment into the present. They were done playing games.

  John was now surrounded by his hounds. He rested his hand on the head of one to his left, and the hound barked, which set off the others in a sonorous chorus.

  “Ignore them,” said Percy. “They’re linked to him. Get him, you get them.”

  But John had already released his hold on the monsters, and the six beasts launched themselves across the room in his direction. Gabe crouched down to protect his middle. He swung his arms and lashed out with his legs whenever they came near him. Each time he made contact with a hound, it disappeared and reappeared at John’s side to rush him again.

  “You asked for proof?” he asked. “How’s this?”

  Gabe pushed through the gaps the hounds left when they vanished, each step taking him closer to John. With each swing, he shouted John’s crimes into the room as Percy recited them in his ear.

  “Melody King, thirty-two, kicked in the head by a horse in her neighbor’s field, only the neighbor didn’t own any horses,” he said. “George McKinnon, seventeen, slipped in a drought-ridden field and drowned in an inch-deep puddle.”

  A dog jumped for Gabe’s throat, and he spun out of the way. The hound struck the couch and yelped, then vanished before it hit the ground and reappeared across the room. Another threw itself at his leg, and he cried out as its teeth pierced his flesh. He clasped a hand over his closed fist and brought both arms down over its head. His swing continued to the ground as the dog disappeared, throwing him off balance, and he stumbled to stay upright.

  A third hound moved out of the corner of his eye and leapt before he could turn around. But the weight of it never landed on Gabe, and he whirled in a circle to see where it had gone.

  “Oh, shit, Gabe,” Percy said, his voice now filled with a sharp panic. “Not good, man. One of those dogs. It’s here. It’s in my goddamned room!”

  Wild barking broke out in Gabe’s ear, and he slammed his elbow down on another hound gunning for his arm.

  “I’m almost there,” Gabe said between blows. “Throw things at him to keep him off you.”

  John heard his words and grinned. He snapped his fingers and two more dogs appeared beside him. He looked as though he were having the time of his life.

  Percy groaned. Crashes echoed through Gabe’s earpiece, the sounds of electronics smashing against a cement floor. Another crash came, then a piercing cry.

  He heard the buzz of an electric charge, a loud whistle and zap, then a resounding thud. Finally Percy’s voice returned on the line, his words coming in ragged gasps. “It’s fine. I’m all right. Now let’s finish this son of a bitch, shall we?”

  Before Gabe had a chance to ask him what had become of the hound, Percy read the next item to him in a distinctly ironic tone.

  “Frederick Wilson, forty-two. He wanted to take over John’s business, but ended up hanging from a tree by his ankle, his upper body torn apart by what the sheriff called — you guessed it, folks — wild dogs.”

  The dogs in question came at Gabe again. He sidestepped one and swung his leg out toward the other.

  He pressed on, name after name. He knew John would never break down and confess or beg for mercy. But he kept talking in the hopes that the jinni would stumble. That the irritation of Gabe’s constant blather would cause him to break his concentration and make one misstep that Gabe could use to his advantage.

  John stood only a few feet away, his smug grin still plastered on his face. The bastard was enjoying this show. But it was almost over. Just two more steps and Gabe could reach him. His fingers curled, anticipating the joy he would feel in wrapping his hands around the jinni’s throat.

  “I enjoy this part,” John said. “My hounds allow people to believe they’re making progress, besting the villain. But the fact of the matter, Mr. Mulligan, is that I can create as many of them as I need. You’ll be crawling with exhaustion by the time you reach me.”

  He stood up straighter as six more dogs shimmered into view at his sides. Gabe eyed the pack, aware of the sweat trickling down his spine, and forced a grin into place.

  At his expression, a fleeting wave of concern passed through John’s eyes, making Gabe smile even more broadly.

  “You hide behind as many mutts as you need. At least your dogs are worth my respect.”

  John’s grin faded into a sneer and he crossed his arms.

  “Brave words for a man in your position. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

  Gabe snorted and swung his fist at another dog. “So far all you’ve proved is that you like to play with creatures in your control. That’s not power, it’s laziness. Makes me think you haven’t earned a single piece of your collection. You just stole it all from someone weaker, like a bully in a playground. Now you’re up against someone your own size, Johnny. Let’s see how you play.”

  John’s grin returned, but anger burned in his violet eyes. He stepped forward and shouted a word that set the dogs running. The entire pack bounded toward Gabe and leapt at him, but he’d anticipated the attack and dove beneath them.

  Launching off his toes, he pounced at John and caught him across the legs. The jinni cried out as they fell to the floor. Gabe grabbed hold of the front of his shirt and pulled himself up until he straddled John’s waist, then he pulled the carving knife from his belt and rested the point against his throat.

  John rolled his widened gaze downward to keep the blade in sight, and Gabe leaned his weight into it, pressing the tip into the skin. No blood trickled out when the blade broke the surface, but that didn’t put Gabe off. Driving a blade through a jinni’s throat wouldn’t kill him, but it would put him out of commission until he formed a new body.

  “W-wait,” John said, and pushed his hands into Gabe’s shoulders. His bloodshot eyes were filled with wariness. “You want to make a deal? I’ll deal. The siren for your silence. That’s what you wanted, right? I let her go and you don’t speak a word to anyone.”

  “You lost your chance for deals,” Gabe growled.

  “If you get rid of me, you’ll threaten the stability of New Haven’s economy. Of your home. I’ve spent so much time forming this city. Most of its support beams are in my name. Made with my money. You get rid of me, and there will be nothing left to prop it up. Everything will come crashing down, and you’ll do more damage than that bitch could have done with a thousand songs.”

  Gabe leaned into his knife, but he hesitated. Allegra had said as much herself. John’s constant presence over the centuries had built New Haven up from nothing. The entire city would need to redistribute itself with his lo
ss.

  “Forget the deal,” Percy yelled in his ear. “Finish him off. You’ve won. What do you get out of making agreements with him now?”

  Gabe heard the words, but they did nothing to break through the walls around his conscience. His reluctance to take a life, his desire to protect the city he’d embraced as his home, urged him to listen to John’s offer.

  He glowered at the jinni. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

  Percy groaned and swore under his breath.

  John attempted a smile, but it came out feeble. “Because you were supposed to get trapped in my illusion. You broke through it. I’ve never seen anyone do that before.”

  His body twitched against the floor, and Gabe increased his pressure on the blade, making John squeak.

  “What game are you trying to play?”

  “No game,” John replied, his words rushed. “You wanted to make a deal, and I give in. You’re right. If I land in Tartarus, they’ll never let me go. I want her, I desire her more than I’ve ever wanted anything, but she’s not worth that.”

  Suspicion snaked through Gabe’s mind. John Deverill would never give in so easily. And yet the deal was there, just as Gabe had laid it out.

  “For god’s sake, man,” Percy said, and Gabe ground his teeth, leaning deeper into the knife.

  “Call off your dogs,” he said. “Make a show of good faith and call them off.”

  He emphasized each word as an individual command. Gabe couldn’t allow John to see him as weak. If he did, he would take advantage. This was Gabe’s chance to get the upper hand, to get the jinni into his debt instead of the other way around.

  John snapped his shaking fingers, and the room went silent except for Ligeia’s whimpers.

  “Get the hell out of there,” Percy said. “Don’t waste your time in any stupid parley, just kill him and go.”

  Gabe didn’t trust John any more than Percy did, but his internal debate waged. John had done endless harm over the years, but a city had been built on his back. Ligeia also had her crimes to carry, and yet he’d already resigned himself to her freedom if she remained moderate in her needs. Letting John go wouldn’t be any different. As long as Gabe was left with the better end of the deal, would sparing him be the worst decision?

  Coin toss.

  That’s all this choice could be. Gabe couldn’t tell the future no matter which option he went with.

  Swearing under his breath, he eased off the blade.

  John raised himself up on his elbows, his smile stronger now. “So we have a deal? Her freedom for your silence? And if you should break the deal, I claim you as well as her. I would never say no to having a Gorgon in my collection.”

  Gabe hesitated at the addendum. He glanced over his shoulder at Ligeia, who sat mostly hidden behind the couch. Around the side, he glimpsed her shoulder and the edges of her dress as she continued to moan and rock. A soft, broken song slipped through her lips, but it held no passion. No power. Whatever John had done to her had shattered her soul and left her bound in the prison of her mind. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t actually at the bottom of the river — as long as she remained tethered to John, she was trapped.

  What did it matter what John demanded? Gabe had no intention of breaking his side of the deal. All he wanted was to put this case behind him and never think of it again.

  “We have a deal,” said Gabe.

  “Most excellent.”

  “Gabe,” Percy breathed.

  John extended his hand, and as Gabe took it, his body jolted and his back arched at the shock of energy that jumped down his arm. Purple swirls filled his vision. Sweetness coated the back of his throat and for a moment his air cut off. His fingers went numb and his heart beat against his ribs in a staggered pattern, stalled by the vice squeezing his chest.

  The sensation ebbed, and he gasped for breath, bent over at the waist.

  “It’s an unnerving experience.” John’s voice floated toward him as though from down a long tunnel. “But it’s over now. Look for yourself.”

  Gabe straightened with a grunt. He twisted his head toward Ligeia and found her standing, her hands limp at her sides. The purple-tinted chains were gone, but she still wore an expression of horror. He wanted to tell her that she was free to go now, that everything would be all right, but his breath came too quick to form words. He held out a hand instead, and she crossed the room toward him, her gaze glued to John with a look of deep mistrust.

  John raised his hands and laughed. “You have nothing to fear from me now, my dear. As Mr. Mulligan has requested, you are free to go. As long as he keeps his mouth shut, we will have no further dealings.”

  “Now can we get out of here?” Percy asked in Gabe’s ear. “I’m done with this guy’s games.”

  Gabe nodded and pressed his hand against his chest, feeling the sharp pounding of his heart. Ligeia trembled beside him, her perfect lips parted to reveal the sharpened teeth within. She wouldn’t relax until they were away from the house and she was on her way, so he turned them toward the door.

  The wolfhounds, only two of them now, appeared at John’s sides and started growling, but Gabe didn’t pay them any attention. The cold hand of suspicion still gripped his heart, and he wanted to be gone. The conclusion of the meeting had been too easy. With every step he took, he expected the hounds to come after him, for John to shoot him in the back.

  Or maybe John would let them walk, give them a few days to believe they were safe, and then come after them. He’d already sent the wolfhound after Percy, so he would know where to find him, and Gabe had no doubt he’d keep tabs on Ligeia no matter how far she ran. They would be looking over their shoulders forever. Gabe found himself wishing he could have just killed him.

  “Oh, Gabriel,” John called.

  As though the words were a part of some spell instead of a spur for his curiosity, Gabe paused. Ligeia tugged on his arm, the lines around her large eyes tight with panic. He understood her urgency, but if he walked now, he’d always wonder what final word John wanted to offer. He’d feel he’d fled instead of meeting his enemy face on. Walking away now would be like never looking at another river for the rest of his life, and he’d already proved himself stronger than that challenge.

  Squaring his shoulders, he turned around.

  John was standing where he’d been when they first entered the room. He was once more a poised, confident figure, an image not even the mussed hair and disheveled jacket could mar.

  “The way you blocked my illusion,” he said. “You carry some Fae in your blood, don’t you?”

  Gabe narrowed his eyes.

  Why does he care?

  But the answer was hardly a secret, so he said, “Yes.”

  One word — one single syllable — and a pain ripped through Gabe’s body.

  He dropped to his knees and purple sparks swam in his vision. At his side, Ligeia let out a moan filled with so much anguish his stomach boiled. He reached for her blindly and touched the edge of her dress, stiff after so many years caught in the river, but she slipped out of his grasp. His neck cracked as he forced his head up and watched her glide toward John. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she didn’t turn around. Gabe guessed some unseen force was dragging her closer, no matter how hard her mind fought back.

  “What are you doing, Deverill?” Gabe shouted. “We had a deal.”

  A grin broke out across John’s face, and he nodded as he ran his palms over his oiled hair. “We did indeed. You agreed to keep silent. The moment you opened your mouth and sounds came out, you nullified the agreement.” A cold, dry laugh filled the room as Percy groaned. “And people call me unfair.”

  Red filtered through the purple in Gabe’s vision, and he released a cry that cut through the jinni’s laughter. The wolfhounds whimpered, then growled in response, but Gabe had already broken into a sprint.

  John pulled his lip back in a snarl and braced his feet on the floor. His wool suit smoothed into purple silk that hugged his wris
ts and ankles. His tan skin darkened into a purple sheen. His eyes burst into flashes of violet fire, and purple smoke wrapped around his hands.

  The jinni raised his arms, and the knife in Gabe’s belt flew sideways across the room. The blade lodged deep into the wall over the mahogany desk, well out of reach, the hilt vibrating with the force of the impact.

  A tight band wrapped around Gabe’s throat and squeezed, and he scraped at the bare skin of his neck. John curled the fingers of his hand and the pressure increased. Gabe grunted as he felt himself lifted off his feet to hover in the air. He kicked his legs and thrashed his arms to free himself, but it only served to tighten the noose around his neck.

  “Come on, Gabe, fight your way out of this,” Percy called to him. “You can fight back.”

  His words sounded more certain than the tone in which he said them.

  “It was a valiant effort, Mr. Mulligan,” John said, his voice sliding into Gabe’s ears and slithering around his brain. The sound was thick and rich. “Your kind of nobility is rare in this world, but there’s a reason it’s been stamped out. Nobility is a weakness. The world only has room for people who are willing to push their limits to get ahead.”

  Gabe opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out. Lights burst in his eyes and a pulsing agony throbbed in his left temple. He rose higher in the air, watching helplessly as Ligeia knelt at John’s feet and kissed his shoes.

  Vomit crept up Gabe’s throat. For a brief moment, he was back in the forest with Rick, the deer standing in front of him. The fawn approached and ate out of his hand. The soft hair brushed against his fingers, a reminder that the vulnerable needed to be protected. Ligeia had trusted him. She’d had the opportunity to kill him, and instead had put her faith in him to see her out of this mess. He wouldn’t let her down.

  He cried out, and as he thrashed his glasses fell from his face and clattered to the floor.

  John released an enraged bellow and added his other hand to the grip around Gabe’s neck. Gabe’s head felt bloated as the air left him. He wondered if Rick had experienced the same sensation when the river had washed him under. When he had tried so hard to regain the surface and find the breath that would extend his life. And failed.